The sky cracked open as they descended the hill, rain pouring in sheets so heavy it blurred the road ahead. The storm was no longer a threat but a force, battering them until they had no choice but to stop near a dimly lit mini‑mart that sat at the edge of the village road. Behind it, a small, run‑down motel loomed, its neon sign flickering against the storm's fury.
Isadora pulled her coat tighter, her hair plastered to her face, her shoes sinking into the mud. Camille, irritated and restless, tapped her foot against the soaked ground.
"This is ridiculous," Camille muttered. "We should've been back hours ago. All because you had to play the saint with that family."
Isadora ignored her, eyes scanning the storm, waiting for it to ease. But Camille's impatience wasn't just about the rain. It was about the humiliation she had suffered at the Alvarez home, the sting of being rejected in favor of Isadora.
When the storm softened just enough for them to continue, Camille's opportunity came.
As they made their way down the slippery path toward the mini‑mart, Camille's voice cut through the rain. "You think you're so clever, don't you,but don't forget that without your little prince charming you are nothing.
Before Isadora could respond, Camille shoved her hard.
The ground gave way beneath her feet, and Isadora slipped down the small hill, her scream swallowed by the storm. Mud and rain blurred her vision as she tumbled, hitting the earth with a thud.
___
Back at the office, Camille swept in with her usual air of superiority, shaking off the storm as if it had been nothing more than a minor inconvenience. She paused at Isadora's empty desk, feigning surprise.
"Oh… she's not here yet?" Camille said loudly enough for half the floor to hear. "I thought she'd be back before me."
Mr. Dalton looked up from his papers, brows furrowed. "Where is Isadora?"
Camille sighed dramatically, stepping into his office. "Sir, I tried to keep things professional, but she lost her temper with the Alvarez family. She insulted them, accused them of favoritism when they asked for me alone. I did my best to calm her down, but she stormed out into the rain. I assumed she'd come straight back here."
Dalton's eyes narrowed. "Isadora is not like that. Are you sure you didn't anger her?"
The words hung heavy in the air, and Camille's smile faltered for a fraction of a second. But before she could answer, the office erupted.
"She probably ran off to her second master boyfriend," one intern whispered, loud enough for others to hear.
"Yeah, maybe she went to beg him to take back the deal," another chimed in, snickering.
"Favoritism, that's all she's got," someone muttered. "Without him, she's nothing."
The taunts spread like wildfire, laughter bubbling up between cubicles. Camille leaned against the doorframe, smirking as the gossip grew, feeding the narrative she had planted.
Dalton raised a hand, silencing them. "Enough. Hayes is dedicated. I don't believe she would abandon a project. We'll wait."
But Camille's smirk said otherwise.
The office eventually quieted, whispers fading into the hum of keyboards and ringing phones. Camille slipped away from the noise, her heels clicking against the polished floor as she made her way to the far end of the building.
She stopped near the stairwell, dark enough to hide evil intentions in broad daylight.
Pulling out her phone, she dialed quickly, her voice dropping to a hushed tone.
"It's done," she whispered. "She won't be a problem anymore."
The voice on the other end was low, cautious. "Are you sure?"
Camille smirked, glancing over her shoulder to make sure no one was near. "I pushed her myself. She fell hard. Even if she crawls back, she won't be in any shape to fight me. And Dalton already thinks she lost her temper. The office believes she ran off to her boyfriend. The story is perfect."
There was silence, then a chuckle. "You've covered your tracks well."
Camille's smile widened. "Of course. By the time anyone realizes, I'll be the one holding the Alvarez deal. And she'll be nothing but a memory."
She ended the call, slipping her phone back into her bag, her expression smooth and composed as she walked back into the light of the office. To everyone else, she was just another employee finishing her day.
But in the shadows, Camille had already declared victory.
____
The rain had slowed to a steady drizzle, but the mud beneath Isadora's body was slick and unforgiving. She lay half‑buried in the hollow, her head throbbing from where it had struck a jagged stone during the fall. Warm blood trickled down her temple, mixing with the rainwater, blurring her vision.
Her breaths came shallow, ragged. Every attempt to push herself up sent a wave of dizziness crashing over her. The world tilted, the storm's aftermath pressing down on her like a weight she couldn't shake.
She reached for her phone with trembling fingers, the screen smeared with mud. Her thumb hovered, slipping, before she managed to unlock it. Kane's name glowed faintly through the haze of her vision.
"Kane…" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the dripping water.
Her fingers shook as she pressed the call button. The phone rang, each vibration echoing in her skull like a drumbeat. She pressed it to her ear, but her strength was fading, her grip weak.
"Kane… please…" Her words broke, her throat tight with pain. "Help me… I—"
Her head lolled to the side, consciousness slipping like sand through her fingers. She forced her eyes open, blinking against the blur. She couldn't let go. Not yet.
Images flickered in her mind — Kane's steady gaze, his arms around her, the way his voice softened when he spoke her name. She clung to those fragments, using them as anchors against the darkness threatening to swallow her.
The phone buzzed faintly, but her hearing was fading. She tried to speak again, her lips barely forming the words. "I need you…"
Her body sagged, her strength draining. The blood from her head wound seeped into the mud, the storm's chill wrapping around her like a shroud.
Her last thought before the darkness claimed her was Kane's face, sharp and clear against the blur of rain.
And then, silence.