AUTHOR POV

The digital clock on the computer screen confirmed what the deepening twilight already suggested: 19:00, February 15, 2025.

Moonlight—cool and pale—spilled through the massive window overlooking the city, casting a soft glow over the final document on the desk. Vanessa Mullerova, sharp and driven, pressed a few final keys, completing the contract with her newest business partner. It was late, but Vanessa had never measured success by the hour—only by the outcome.

She glanced at the platinum watch circling her wrist, confirming the time. With a satisfied breath, she saved the document, closed the file, and shut down the computer. Silence instantly filled the vast office, abrupt and absolute. Vanessa collected her phone and keys, slipped them neatly into her designer purse, and walked out with a purposeful stride toward the underground parking lot.

Her key fob chirped. The familiar click of her car unlocking echoed through the empty space. She slid into the driver’s seat, set her purse on the passenger side, and fastened her seatbelt. The engine purred to life.

Pulling out of her assigned spot, she headed up the exit ramp and merged onto the city street.

That was when she noticed it—

a dark car following just a little too closely.

Probably nothing, she told herself. Just another driver heading home. She dismissed the flicker of unease and reached for the radio.

Before she could turn it on, her phone vibrated sharply inside her purse. She glanced down.

Unknown Number.

Still watching the road, Vanessa retrieved the phone and answered. “Hello?” Her voice was calm and polite.

A distorted, threatening voice hissed through the speaker.

“Mr. Mullerova, it’s your time to pay.”

Vanessa gasped. The phone slipped from her suddenly numb fingers, clattering against the console.

At that exact moment, the dark car behind her surged forward.

The impact was brutal.

Her sedan fishtailed, tires screeching violently as she lost control. The world spun as the car slammed into the mouth of a tunnel, metal shrieking as it smashed against concrete and rolled, over and over, in a deafening roar.

Her vision blurred, pain slicing through her skull. She felt warm blood trickle down her temple. Through the shattered window, she saw a tall figure step out of the black sedan. He lifted a phone to his ear.

“It’s done, sir,” he said, voice cold enough to freeze her fading breath.

That was the last sound Vanessa heard before darkness swallowed her whole.

---

A month later, Vanessa opened her eyes.

The first things she sensed were the sterile chill of the room, the steady beeping of machines, and a heavy ache across her bruised limbs. She lifted one trembling hand—her skin was mottled with bruises, dotted with injection sites. Tubes snaked from her arms into humming medical equipment. Life support had held her suspended for thirty long days.

The door creaked open. A nurse entered, tired and quiet. But when she saw Vanessa awake, she froze.

Her eyes enlarged—then she screamed in sheer relief.

“She’s awake!”

She rushed out, leaving Vanessa alone with the echo of her own racing heartbeat.

Confusion washed over her as she tried to piece together the void of the past month. Then, like a violent wave, memories crashed into her—tires screeching, her car rolling, a masked figure, the chilling voice on the phone.

The flashback hit her so hard she trembled beneath the sheets.

Moments later, the doctor and nurse hurried back in. The doctor approached, gently checking her vitals, then flicked a penlight across her pupils. After a moment he exhaled, relieved.

“Ms. Mullerova, you were in a severe car crash,” he explained. “You’re incredibly fortunate to have survived.”

Then his tone shifted.

“I need to ask you something important. Do you remember anything from the night of the accident? With head trauma like yours, memory loss is very possible.”

---

VANESSA POV

I stared at the doctor, letting fear and confusion cloud my face.

But I remembered everything.

The crash.

The killer.

His voice confirming the job.

The name—

“Mr. Mullerova.”

A cold instinct slid down my spine, warning me not to speak. Something was wrong—terribly, dangerously wrong—and the truth was the last thing I could afford to give.

My voice came out weak and hoarse. “No… I don’t remember anything.”

I hesitated, then added the lie I knew they needed to hear.

“Who… who am I?”

The doctor’s eyes widened for a split second before he composed himself.

“Ma’am, you are Vanessa Mullerova. CEO of one of the largest fashion corporations in the country… and the fiancée of the actor Jake Yang.”

His words hit like ice water.

Jake Yang.

My fiancé.

And someone out there wanted me dead.

The doctor gave a reassuring nod. “For now, focus on resting. We’ll contact your relatives—and your fiancé. They’ll be here soon.”

He and the nurse left the room, closing the door with a soft click.

Silence settled around me.

I exhaled, shaky and exhausted, staring at my bruised palms.

Who wanted me dead?

I had lived my life kindly, trusting easily, hurting no one. Yet someone… someone powerful enough to send a killer… wanted me gone.

The old Vanessa—the trusting one—was gone.

If I wanted to survive, I had to bury her completely.

Because whatever had happened was only the beginning.