22. A curious accident

Things seemed to be heading in a positive direction for Emma, with her life finally starting to take on some semblance of normalcy. However, unbeknownst to her, a sinister plot against her was beginning to take shape in the shadows.

One day, as Emma walked to work at the restaurant, as she did every morning, she suddenly heard a loud crack from above. Instinctively, she glanced up just in time to see a massive glass pane plummeting from a nearby building. Her heart raced as she quickly leapt to the side, barely avoiding the deadly shard as it shattered on the pavement where she had just been standing.

Breathing heavily, Emma took a moment to compose herself, her mind reeling. "That was close... too close," she muttered to herself, trying to calm the adrenaline that surged through her veins. She brushed it off as a freak accident, assuming she had just been unlucky enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

As Emma narrowly escaped yet another attempt on her life, the scene shifts back to the dimly lit room where the fake heiress and the mysterious figure meet once again. The room is shrouded in shadows, the only light coming from a flickering candle on a nearby table, casting long, ominous shadows across their faces.

The fake heiress, with her arms crossed and her eyes narrowed, paced the room, her heels clicking sharply against the cold, stone floor. Her frustration was palpable, her anger simmering just beneath the surface. The mysterious figure stood silently by the door, his posture rigid, waiting for her to speak.

Finally, unable to contain her rage any longer, the fake heiress whirled around to face him, her voice laced with venom. "Do you realize what this means?" she hissed, her eyes blazing with fury. "That pathetic girl has embarrassed me in front of everyone. Do you know how humiliating it was to lose face at the Hamilton family's banquet because of her?"

The mysterious figure remained impassive, his face hidden beneath the shadow of his hood. "I understand, ma'am," he replied in a low, gravelly tone. "But accidents can happen. The plan was sound, and our operatives are highly skilled. The target was simply... fortunate."

The fake heiress's lips curled into a snarl, and she slammed her fist onto the table, causing the candle to flicker wildly. "I don't want excuses! I want results!" she snapped, her voice rising with each word. "I don't care about the cost or the risks involved. That girl needs to disappear, permanently. Do you understand me?"

The mysterious figure nodded, his gaze unwavering. "We will escalate our efforts," he promised, his voice calm and measured. "This time, we will ensure there is no room for failure. Our next move will leave no trace, no chance of survival."

The fake heiress took a deep breath, trying to regain her composure. She couldn't afford to lose control—not when she was so close to achieving her goal. "Good," she said, her tone softening slightly but still filled with malice. "I want you to make it look like an accident. Something that won't draw too much attention. We can't have the Hamiltons getting suspicious. If they start sniffing around, it could ruin everything."

The mysterious figure took a step closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "There are ways to make someone disappear without raising alarm. We can stage an unfortunate accident—something tragic and unavoidable. She won't even see it coming."

The fake heiress's eyes gleamed with dark satisfaction. "Excellent. And remember, no loose ends. I want nothing leading back to me. If anyone even suspects my involvement, it will be your head on the chopping block, understood?"

The figure bowed his head in acknowledgment. "You have my word. The target will be eliminated, and your name will remain untarnished."

Satisfied, the fake heiress allowed a slow, sinister smile to creep across her face. "See to it," she said, her voice dripping with finality. "And make sure it happens soon. I'm tired of waiting, and I want this matter dealt with before it causes me any more trouble."

The mysterious figure nodded once more and turned to leave the room, his footsteps echoing softly as he disappeared into the darkness. The fake heiress watched him go, her mind already racing with thoughts of how her life would change once Emma was out of the picture for good. With her rival eliminated, there would be nothing standing in her way—no one to challenge her claim, no one to embarrass her again.

As she stood alone in the darkened room, the fake heiress's smile widened, her heart pounding with anticipation. Soon, very soon, she would have everything she wanted, and no one—least of all Emma—would be able to stop her.

A few days later, as Emma was leaving the restaurant after her shift, she stepped out onto the street, her thoughts focused on the cozy evening she planned to spend with Shirley. But as she walked a few paces from the entrance, she heard the screeching of tires behind her. Whipping around, her eyes widened in horror as a car, clearly out of control, came hurtling toward her at breakneck speed.

Time seemed to slow down. Emma's body froze, her legs refusing to move as the vehicle bore down on her. But just as the car was about to strike, a pair of strong arms grabbed her and yanked her out of the way. They both tumbled to the ground, the car missing her by mere inches before crashing into a lamppost further down the street.

Emma's breath came in ragged gasps as she tried to process what had just happened. She looked up at the man who had saved her—a tall, muscular figure with a serious expression.