Masked Hero

Helpless and hopeless, she shut her eyes expecting to hear a deafening splash as her body slammed into the river, but after a few seconds of waiting, nothing came. 

She felt something strong, warm and fleshy tightly clamping her wrist as her body swung precariously, half-dangling over the edge. Zara was hesitant as she slowly opened her eyes. 

Then she saw him. 

Her masked hero. 

His other arm was hooked tightly around the cold, wet metal, his muscles straining to hold both himself and Zara steady against the violent pull of the storm.

"Don't fucking let go!" His voice was deep, commanding, yet the tremor beneath it betrayed the fear coiling in his chest. 

"You came!" Zara barely responded. Her breath hitched as she stared into the furious waters below, the sheer force of the current making her head spin. She clawed at his arm, desperate to anchor herself to something solid.

The man gritted his teeth, his dark, stormy eyes locked onto hers through the slits of his mask. Rainwater poured down his face, dripping from his jawline and disappearing into the high collar of his coat. Every muscle in his body tensed, veins bulging under the strain as the weight of both their bodies bore down on him.

"Give me your other hand!" he barked. Zara obeyed, their fingers locking in a fierce grip.

With a strained grunt, he shifted his weight and pulled, dragging her upward despite the storm's fury. Her knees hit the metal edge before she collapsed onto the bridge, trembling and gasping for air.

He crouched down in front of her, letting out a shaky exhale. His broad shoulders rose and fell as he tried to catch his breath, rain streaming down his soaked clothing.

The rain had lessened to a drizzle, the storm finally showing signs of mercy. Zara looked up at him, her vision blurred by rain and tears. Her lips trembled as she tried to form words, but nothing came out. She was too stunned, too shaken to respond.

Before she could thank him, a sharp slap stung her cheek.

"How dare you?" He growled, his brown eyes blazing through the slits of his mask. "He is not even worth it. You are strong. You come from a family who genuinely adores you! You are beautiful! You're smart! And you want to throw that all away by killing yours for him?"

Zara flinched, shocked. Then she scoffed, wiping the rain from her face. "Kill myself? Over Ethan? Please! I'd be damned if I ever think of leaving my kids behind for a waste of space like him!" 

His stormy eyes softened for a moment. "I'm sorry," he muttered, his voice rough.

She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself, drenched from the rain. 

Upon noticing this, he removed his coat and covered her with it. As he tried to adjust the front to cover her up properly, they locked eyes for a brief moment. 

His eyes held something she hadn't seen in years—warmth. For a moment, it reminded her of Ethan, back when he still cared. Zara held his gaze, studying him intently. There was something familiar about him.

They had crossed paths before.

Since she was 14, Zara had received anonymous birthday gifts every year. Seven years ago, at her wedding reception, she finally caught a glimpse of the man delivering one of them. He wore the same mask.

The gifts never stopped, but after that day, he became impossible to catch—until tonight.

"Do you love me that much? That you're still so obsessed with me long after I've gotten married and had kids." She asked, curious of his response.

But he ignored her as he buttoned up the coat. 

"I liked all your love letters back in college. They were catchy. But I guess I was just too in love with Ethan to notice anyone else. Or maybe it's because you weren't brave enough to come out." She ranted on, hoping he would open up. She really needed something to talk about. To distract her from her sad reality.

Again, she was welcomed with silence, and as he attempted to move out after helping her buckle up, she swiftly moved her hand, attempting to lift the mask of his face as the suspense on his identity was killing her. 

But he caught her arm mid air and shoved it off, "You must have hit your head after the fall." He said coolly. "I will take you to the hospital." 

He picked her up in bride style and descended down the bridge. Zara was hesitant, but slowly, she wrapped her hands around his frame, resting her shoulder on his sturdy chest as he strode towards his black SUV. 

"No birthday presents today?" She asked curiously, her voice fading into a whisper. 

"I will give you something better. One that you desperately need this time." He replied, his head raised high. 

***

"Though your vital signs and overall health are in excellent condition, you strained your ankle again. It will take more time to heal and you must not walk without support, at least for the next month or two." Dr. Martin, her doctor, instructed shortly after she regained her consciousness. 

Zara blinked against the harsh fluorescent light. The last thing she remembered was the masked man's deep voice and the rumble of his car. Now she is here? Alone. How? Even her phone which she had left in her car that was parked at the studio was laying on her bed. 

"I have no idea what love letters you are talking about. I am only doing this because I have to." He had vividly said, before Zara ended the argument during the ride. 

"Zavier must have sent him," she mumbled, disappointed. Her hopes of a secret admirer were gone.

For years, she'd wondered if her secret admirer was real—if someone out there truly saw her. But now, the thought that Zavier, her older brother, was behind it all made her chest ache with bitter disappointment.

"Zara, are you listening?" Dr. Martin's curious voice invaded her train of thoughts, pulling her back to her reality. 

She threw a fake smile at him as she responded, "I understand, sir." 

She struggled out of bed and maneuvering into her chair. It had also been fully charged. 

 "Dr. Martin, how did I get here last night?" She asked curiously. 

Surprised by her question, the middle-aged doctor glanced over the file in his hand one more time to be sure she hadn't missed a thing. 

"You came here on your own." He replied half heartedly. As he began to walk out of the room, he mumbled, "The divorce must have really shook her." 

Zara bit her lower lip to keep her tears at bay. She might have forgotten how messy her divorce was because of the little interaction she had with the masked hero, but was quickly reminded by the whispers and side talks of patients and passerby, as she found her way back home. 

At this point, it was even harder getting a cab and after two failed attempts, she decided to use her chair to its fullest. 

She tried her best. To not cry. To not falter. Not to fall weak at the sound of the whispers. Instead of thinking about them, she channeled her thoughts into how best to break the news of her divorce with their kids. 

But as soon as she pushed the door to the living room of her home, she was welcomed by a hot slap as Beatrice's —Ethan's mother's hand struck her face. 

The slap burned hot against Zara's cheek, but the sting was nothing compared to the venom in Beatrice's words.

"You shameless girl! Do you have any idea what you've done to this family?" Beatrice barked, her eyes blazing furiously. 

Zara held her burning cheek. Her vision blurred but she refused to falter. 

"Mother, what did I—" 

"I am not your Mother!" Beatrice angrily interrupted. "No one would want a daughter who brings nothing but disgrace to her family." She fired, obviously fed up by her presence. 

Beatrice never liked Zara. Mainly because she didn't find her 'worthy' of her son. "She might be carrying your children, but she isn't your wife, Ethan. She will never become part of us." Her position had been clear since day one. 

Ethan had reassured Zara that she would come around, but no matter what she did, it never seemed to please her.

Ethan who was just descending from the stairs tried to intervene. "Mom, please calm down. The deed is done already." 

Beatrice turned to face her son, fuming, "I told you! To keep this whole divorce thing under wrap until after the election! Why did you even follow her to the show in the first place? Without consulting me!" 

Zara's chest tightened, but she kept her voice steady. "Disgrace? What would you call Ethan's infidelity then? Isn't that more damaging?" She turned to Beatrice, desperate for a sliver of reason.

But Beatrice only scoffed, folding her arms. "If you hadn't baited him into that ridiculous family show, none of this would have come out. This is your fault."

Zara's lips parted in disbelief. "You're not even angry that he's been cheating?"

"Why should I be? At least he found someone worthy of him this time. Someone who understands him, supports him—someone who's his equal," Beatrice said coldly, her words laced with contempt.

Irene's parents owned a thriving clothing company and Irene was an accomplished journalist, so in Beatrice's eyes, she was more worthy of Ethan. 

A smug tugged around Zara's lips, "I know, right? Like I didn't sacrifice my dream to be his wife. And I didn't help him in the past three years to set up his Start Up. What exactly has she done for your son?" 

Beatrice laughed hysterically as she clapped her hands, "Dreams? You called that slutty dance a dream? Oh, Please!"

"Ethan's Start Up was entirely his idea. And Irene, she helped him achieve his dream by using her influence to help him get contracted by a big IT company in New York . Now they are moving, somewhere you don't even fit in!" She snapped at her.

Zara froze, her mind reeling. Irene? The company Ethan was contracted to… it was her brother Zavier's company. For three years, she'd worked tirelessly to help Ethan build his start-up. She'd begged Zavier to help, promising to reconcile with her estranged family. 

Beatrice had always been the main fire fueling their fallen marriage, so leaving Chicago wasn't just Ethan's dream, it was Zara's path to marital freedom. And now Ethan was going to New York with Irene?

"Thank God we're divorced," Zara said aloud, her voice cold.

Ethan flinched at her words, a flicker of anger flashing across his face. She could see it—the irritation. He didn't want her to move on. Even though he'd told her to, he expected her to pine for him forever, to always be there, waiting. With his kids.

"Ethan, my transfer to New York Daily has been approved! We can go…" Irene's cherry voice trailed off as she joined them, holding an iPad. 

She was wearing Ethan's pajamas.

Zara's stomach churned. Her kids sometimes wandered into their parents' room at night. What if they'd seen her?

"Are you so desperate that you couldn't wait until I left with the kids?" Zara snapped, her voice trembling with rage.

Ethan might be an asshole of a husband but he is a great Dad to his kids and wouldn't want to hurt them intentionally. He had initially delayed the divorce because of them, but in the end, he chose not to stay in a loveless marriage. He chose his ambition over them.

He stepped forward, guilt flashing across his face. "Zara, it's not what you think. She stayed in the guest room—"

"Where are they?" Zara cut him off, rolling her wheelchair toward the stairs. "I'll take them and leave."

Before she could maneuver her way around the stairs, Clement Campbell, Ethan's father, stepped into her path, stopping her with a question, "What kids are you talking about exactly? The ones bearing my names?" he voice dangerously cold that it sent shivers down her spine. 

Clement Campbell is the Gold Coast, Chicago City Council Leader, currently running for the post of a post Mayor. Stoic as he was, he paid no mind to affairs around the house, especially things that didn't bring him any gain. 

Just like Zara, Ethan's parents always dictated for him, but by the time they knew about Zara, she was already knocked up and they had no other choice than to accept her

 All he could give was a stern warning, "Do not embarrass my family any further, else I will destroy you." 

But with the talk show, they couldn't be any bigger embarrassment. 

Zara slowly tilted her chair to face him. Her inside was trembling but she stayed, daring to speak before him for the first time, "I signed the papers. He is giving me full custody." 

The Campbells adore their grandchildren. In fact, the twins were the only reason she had ever seen Clement smile. So of course he wouldn't want a random, broke woman to take them away. 

Clement held up a stack of papers, his expression as hard as stone. "The custody agreement has been amended. You're no longer allowed to see the children. To them, you're dead."

Zche's chest heaved as her eyes darted to the papers, "Ms. Lydia said it was official. H—how did you get—"

Her voice trailed off. She already knew the answer. Clement Campbell owned Chicago. He could bend the city to his will.

But she wasn't ready to give up. To let them take away her precious children and leave her with nothing. 

"No!" Zara screamed, tugging at Clement's leg. "I won't let you take my children away from me!"

But with one swift movement, Clement pulled himself away from her, causing her to fall off her chair. The tears she had tried so desperately not to shed started flying off her eyes. The mere thoughts of leaving her child was unbearable. It made her body tremble and broke her resolve. 

Tears streamed down her face as she looked at Ethan, desperation etched into her features.

"Ethan, please. You promised me. You gave me your word!"

Ethan hesitated, his jaw tightening. "I'm sorry, Zara. I'll make sure the kids remember you as a great mom. And I'll still give you the alimony."

Zara's world shattered. She slumped against the floor, tears pouring down her face as her body trembled.

Just then, Clement's personal guard ran in and whispered something to his ear. Nothing could be deduced from his stoic expression until he said. 

"Bring him in." 

Shortly after...

A voice broke the silence. "Good day, everyone."

All eyes turned to the doorway, where a sharply dressed man

stepped into the room, his polite smile radiating confidence.

"I am Nathaniel Hawke, Senior Partner at Blackthorne and Hawke LLP. I'm here as Ms. Zara Eloise Quinn's legal counsel."