Chapter 5

SELENA'S POV. "Help! Is anyone out there?" I cried out, pounding on the door relentlessly. "Felicia! Please, you have to open the door. Felicia!" I shouted, my hands frantically running through my hair as I noticed a hand slip a note under the door. "Is that you, Felicia?" I inquired, quickly snatching the note and tearing it open with urgency. "What could this be?" I wondered aloud as I read, "To my wife, just so you're aware, you won't be leaving the premises at your whim. Sincerely, your loving husband, Aiden Evans." How did I miss this? Idiot. How could he treat me this way? It's utterly unjust. In a fit of rage, I ripped the note to pieces and strode over to the phone by the nightstand, dialing his number in haste. Answer the phone! The line rang, and on the third try, his voice finally came through. "What do you want, Selena?" He inquired, his tone casual as if he'd done nothing wrong. "How could you imprison me as if I were some caged beast?" I lashed out, seething with anger. "Because that's how you behave," he shot back, and his words stunned me, though I quickly regained my composure. "Instruct Felicia or anyone else to let me out. I refuse to be confined like this," I demanded, but he remained silent. "Are you even listening?" I pressed, only to be met with the dial tone as Aiden hung up. The nerve of him! He'll regret this. What an annoying jerk. ********************** AIDEN’S POV. A smirk played on my lips as I ended the call with Selena. She'll learn her place and how to address me properly. Such a tiresome nuisance. Her furious gaze haunted my thoughts as I arrived at my construction firm. "Whatever your name is, Aiden," her defiant words echoed in my mind. Selena's boldness was unlike anything I'd encountered in a woman before. Her confrontation the previous night was unexpected, especially given her delicate appearance. Since then, she's been on my mind constantly, and for reasons beyond my comprehension. I attempted to dismiss thoughts of her as I exited my car and made my way into the company building. "Good morn—" one of the receptionists began, but I silenced her with a gesture. I ignored the whispers of two other ladies nearby. "Mr. Aiden," greeted a familiar voice. Catherine, my secretary, approached, taking my briefcase and helping me out of my suit. "You have a visitor in your office," she informed me, and I shot her a stern look before replying, "Unless it's business-related, ask them to leave." "It's Sir Dave Lawson, your best friend and colleague," she clarified. "Alright," I muttered, turning the handle of my office door. "About time you showed up," Dave's deep voice greeted me as I noticed his legs propped on my desk. "Get your feet down, will you?" I joked, nudging his legs off the desk. "When did you start caring about doing things properly, huh? One night into marriage and you're already different?" he teased, stroking his beard. "Don't remind me," I grumbled, sinking into a couch. "Congrats, man," Dave offered, extending his hand, but I merely glanced at him. "You're not going to accept my congratulations? Fine. I understand. You're upset I missed your wedding. Didn't realize it meant that much to you," Dave said. Indeed, he's correct. I'm somewhat irked that he missed my wedding yesterday. It wasn't crucial, but his presence would've been comforting. "Enough with that," I responded. "It's hard to believe a notorious philanderer like you would ever settle down," Dave remarked. "Drop it. I was forced into this mess by my parents. Besides, I have no affection for her and plan to make her existence unbearable," I confessed, pondering the torment I'd inflict. "That's quite harsh. Be careful with her," Dave cautioned softly. "You can't imagine what I have in store for her," I declared, resting my chin on my hands. "Do you really loathe her that much?" he inquired, his brows knitting together. "You have no idea," I said tersely. "Man, you need to shed that bitterness; it's unlike you," Dave advised, then suggested, "How about drinks after work?" "Agreed," I nodded. "I'll call you later," Dave said, heading out. "Sure," I muttered, booting up my laptop. * * Loud music and dancers on poles filled the club. "How did I not know about this place?" I asked Dave as we entered. "You were preoccupied with your exes," Dave joked, patting my back. We were escorted to a VIP area by an attractive waitress. "Two bottles of wine, please," I ordered, and she acknowledged before leaving us. "What's your plan for your new wife?" Dave probed. Our conversation was briefly interrupted by the waitress delivering our wine. "Just the usual torment," I replied nonchalantly, pouring a drink. A stunning woman caught my eye as she moved near us. "Take her home tonight," Dave chuckled, noticing my gaze. "No, I can't," I declined. "Right, the married man," Dave mocked. "This is for you," the woman murmured, leaving a note on our table before quickly leaving. "What's this now?" Dave asked curiously as I read the note. Wait! What's this? "If you don't hurry, your mother will die," the note read. This has to be a sick joke. "What's it say?" Dave pressed. "None of your concern," I replied, struggling to remain composed. I had to find out what this meant. I couldn't risk my mother's safety. "If you won't tell me—" "I have to go, Dave," I interjected, standing up abruptly. "We just got here," Dave protested, surprised by my haste. "I must leave. Take care," I said, rushing out of the club. I prayed my mother was safe as I sped away in my car. My heart raced. My mother is my world. Who sent that note? The lady handed it to me, but who's behind it? These questions plagued me until I arrived at my parents' home. "Where's my mother?" I demanded from a maid in the living room. "She went out," the maid replied as I rushed to my father's room. "Dad! Dad!" I called out, rushing into his room. "Son," my father greeted, nearly dropping his coffee onto the nightstand. "Dad, where's mom? Is she here?" I frantically looked around the room. "She stepped out to pick up a few things," he replied. "Was she accompanied by Rex, our bodyguard?" I inquired, concerned about her safety. "No, she went alone," he said. "What's causing you such distress?" he probed. "Dad, it's late. Why would you let her go out alone?" I questioned him, agitated. "Your mother is perfectly capable of looking after herself," Mr. Evans, my father, reminded me. "But Dad, her safety is at risk. We must find her immediately," I insisted, showing him the alarming letter. He took a sharp breath as he read it. "Where did this come from?" he asked, alarmed. "The source isn't important. We need to find Mom," I said, trying to call her number. "Just take a moment to breathe, son," he urged, but I was too anxious to heed his words. "Mom, please pick up," I whispered to myself, but each call redirected to voicemail, leaving me filled with dread. Is this how it all ends for Aiden's mother?