Chapter 3: Unseen Storm

Michael Sorin—the next-door kid who had more to say over dinner than he actually spoke whenever we played after class. He was the only son of the family occupying the house next to the new mansion Father bought to start anew with us after he divorced our mother. I recall hating the thought of moving. How could our mother find us if we moved to a new house? My hatred for my father back then grew as the days grew until we were asked to get in the car because the house was ready for occupancy. I didn’t even meet Michael on the first day. It was a month later that I did.

Skinny and pale, Michael seemed like a sickly boy the first time I met him. He was like Doron to me, someone who needed constant care and supervision. And you all know what they say about first impressions leaving a lasting note—I took pity on him which wasn’t really needed. Unlike my brother, he wasn’t bothered by his condition. Michael had that sunny disposition Doron could only hope to have after being separated from our mother. He accepted the friendship I offered anyway instead of ignoring me which I was grateful for. It was lonely in that mansion before he came along.

Yes, Michael was the single kid in the posh neighborhood who wasn’t snobbish nor made a fuss whenever we played no matter how rough it became. For a boy who was supposed to be weak, he had the stamina to spare for playtime. The scolding I got after my father came home to see bruises and cuts on my legs wasn’t hard to pass off through my other ear because of how fun it was. Michael was the light outside the tunnel I’ve been wanting to have. In all those days of grieving, he was there for me without asking why I was that way.

Those dark irises lit up in glee at the sight of me coming up to pass the afternoon’s dreary hours with him. Even then, I haven’t forgotten about my mother’s abrupt departure from my life, yet he was there to make it all better by keeping me company, even gifting my brother a toy train. Doron was immediately attached to the idea of having a friend despite saying he didn’t need one. That friends like him would often leave when it conveniences them. Michael Sorin was that anchor I needed to be a child—gone were the thoughts and wishes of growing up fast.

Until he wasn’t.

Remembering figments from my childhood wasn’t an arduous task, but recalling why he and his family suddenly disappeared—I could never grasp. It was quite a sudden occurrence which still puzzled me to this day. Questions of where they were going and why plagued those nights. The last memory I had of the skinny, shy boy whose black hues ran deeper than the color of his hair, akin to the night sky, was of him mumbling how he wished he could’ve played with me and Doron more. Younger me wouldn’t have known that would be the last time I’d see Michael Sorin, my childhood friend—whisked away like my mother. For what reason? I did not know.

However, what struck me the most was how detached he seemed when he told me that he was going away. A good friend would tell you why and how to keep in touch despite the distance. A great friend would tell you that they will continue to see you no matter what. A best friend will go against all odds to spend more time with you. Michael Sorin, with all those times we shared in each other’s comfort, was none of those when he turned his back on me. His eyes were empty the whole time, never meeting my glassy ones as I demanded to know where he was going.

Perhaps I was cursed to have all the people I liked taken away from me. Silly children often believed that, wondering whether an evil witch was casting such a spell. But I never took that to heart, no… I was much smarter than to believe in fairytales. Father did say they were going on a trip far, far away, and maybe won’t ever come back. I even had the absurd idea that my father was the culprit, sulking at every ballet practice or piano lesson he tossed to me. It wasn’t long for another family to move into their old house.

Still, it hurt me to see them go—especially Michael, whom I never got to say a proper goodbye to. I was too pathetic to stop crying and just end our friendship right then and there. And now that I had the chance to do so, the man before me confidently claimed he wasn’t that skinny shy boy that I knew. His physical appearance was a dead giveaway from the start, but those eyes…

They were the same empty ones I saw all those years ago.

What happened to you, Michael?

“Vivien Cartiera… Are you the wife of the Keith Cartiera?”

Reminiscing a childhood companion while held against my will didn’t seem like a brilliant way to go. And while I did like Michael Sorin as a friend and see the same set of deep pools of black in this man whom they referred to as their boss, he did not exude a similar weak aura the skinny boy had. No, this man was much more dangerous in nature—volatile in silence and muted commands while he stared at my driver’s license intently. As if he’d see a flaw in the printed details if he looked hard enough. He was far from the boy I met back in that mansion. All he has in similarity to the Michael I knew were their appearances. This man right here was a sinister one. My purse was splayed across the table, contents scattered around for him and his goons to see. I swallowed hard.

And if you are not Michael Sorin, who are you?

“Yes, that’s me,” I murmured; head hung low in exhaustion. There was no point in withholding my identity since it was the very thing that could save me at this moment. “Whoever this Harrison is, I don’t know them. Maybe they are my neighbors, but I barely leave the house to socialize with them…” There was no point in socializing with the people who lived next to us, all too busy with their own lives to care for and valued their privacy as I did too. When there was no response, I sighed. When will all of this be over? “Can’t you see? You got the wrong woman, so may I please go? I have no part in whatever feud you have with them!”

“Maybe we should kill her, boss.” Delroy scoffed, making more tears pool in my eyes at the suggestion. My heart was pounding erratically in its ivory cage, and I was sure it would burst out any minute. The sound of it could probably be heard beyond my own ears for some of them snickered at me. I can’t die here—not when I did nothing wrong. “She did see our faces. She might tell the police and her husband what happened. We can’t have that. That’ll undo everything you’ve worked for.”

“That is indeed bothersome,” Michael’s doppelganger mumbled. His brows were pinched together in thought, possibly plotting what to do with me. I couldn’t help but thrash in my seat, unable to stop crying and pleading for my release. He then met my gaze, oozing pheromones that commanded me to submit. I almost choked at the harsh scent. “I can’t have her giving us away.”

Will they let me go, right? This can’t be the end of my life—not when it has barely begun! I still have plenty of things to do! My husband, my brother, and my best friend… I can’t leave them like this—

“I’ll set her free.”

“Huh?”

Everyone in the room, including me, was quite taken aback by the order. Relief instantly flooded my system, the tears stopped rolling down my cheeks as I muttered endless words of gratitude with my head hung low. The rest were shocked, yet dared not utter a single complaint about their superior’s command. But it was evident in the tension that hung in the air that they were not pleased with it and he must’ve sensed it to immediately add to his sentence.

“I’ll see to it myself that she won’t tell the police nor her family. Appeasing her husband would probably be the easiest. I will drive her back to her own home to see to it so you have nothing to worry about.” Glancing down at me, he muttered coldly. “You wouldn’t object to that, would you?”

Does it look like I have another choice?

Quick to nod in agreement, hoping to go back home immediately and start forgetting all about this incident, I watched in silence as Delroy begrudgingly clicked his tongue. The man then took all my possessions and dumped them into my bag before handing them to me. No one spoke another word as I stood up and trailed behind their towering superior with my head down. Now that I was up close to him, he didn’t seem nor act like the Michael I knew. He probably isn’t Michael at all. Because if you ask me if that sickly boy could present as a dominant alpha in the future, I would respond negatively.

There’s no way, right?

Before I could see daylight and breathe fresh air again, a blindfold was placed over my eyes before getting into the vehicle. I squeaked out in surprise at the act but never did anything else unless he changed his mind about not killing me. Guess their hideout, whatever and wherever this is, was kept a top secret too.

There’s no way, even if I remember and know where it is, that I’ll come back here. God knows how many people they may have brought here to either torture or kill…

“T-thank you,” I muttered under my breath after around thirty minutes of being in the dark, the blindfold was removed and I now sat next to the man who spared my life. His dark eyes concentrated on the road in front of him. The leather seats were cold and smelled of faint masculine cologne. He didn’t dare leave his sight on the pavement, but I could see them widen for a fraction at what I just said. Of course, he didn’t expect me to say that.

“There’s no need for gratitude, woman. And maybe you’ve forgotten, but I’ll be monitoring you starting today. Should you be saying thanks to the man who held you against your will, much less, be capable of doing such?”

“Still, I’m grateful that you decided to spare me,” I murmured, lowering my gaze to my wrists. There was no trace left on my skin, too clean to be seen that I was kidnapped earlier. Maybe if there was, I wouldn’t have left that place so easily. “I-I can’t die… I don’t want to.”

He never responded to my statement and remained silent the whole drive. Seeing the familiar streets we drove past; I couldn’t help but feel relief flood my veins. Now that he stopped the vehicle right outside the house, my vehicle nowhere to be found where I left it, I turned to him for an answer. He sighed as he pulled out the keys from the ignition.

“It’s parked at a secluded lot. I’ll have my men take it to the repairs before sending it back here.”

“M-May I know your name?”

Quirking a brow up, he huffed. “Why? What good will it do for you to know?” Crossing his arms, he continued softly. “Listen here woman, I’m not the man you’re looking for—whatever his name was. And it’s best if you don’t associate with me.”

“But I thought you’d be monitoring me starting today?” Brows furrowed at his words; I didn’t know why I was asking him these questions. He had a point—it was best not to know him and forget the whole ordeal. Yet, the image of Michael Sorin kept plaguing my mind as I stared at him. Because somewhere in the back of my head, I couldn’t let go of the idea he was lying to my face. “Shouldn’t I know the name of the man who’ll be keeping a close eye on me?”

Shaking his head, he pointed to the door. “Get out. I’ll escort you to the door and leave immediately.” Sighing at his words, I did as I was told and took the lead this time, walking up to my home. Catching the sight of Keith’s car parked on the driveway, I instantly turned to the man.

“M-my husband’s home.”

There was no time to act. Keith, who was standing by the front door, saw both of us and ran to greet us. Judging how relaxed he seemed, I guess my disappearance didn’t create such a buzz. Shivering at the thought that I could’ve been removed from the face of the earth without anyone knowing, I choke back a shaky gasp in realization.

Shit. What was I thinking about getting ‘friendly’ with the man beside me? Get a grip! Just because he looks like Michael—he’s a criminal!

“Oh?” My husband’s gaze landed on the huge man next to me, narrowing slightly in judgment before widening. “Wait. You’re the new guy in town, right? The one who was rumored to be the heir to Mr. Salvatore’s mining business? Dáin Salvatore, correct?”

Does Keith know him?

“Such an honor for a Cartiera to recognize me.” Turning to me, my captor’s superior grinned as if nothing happened. Like it was just another ordinary day and we met in the streets. I felt my stomach churn. “I had to help this lovely lady of yours a few minutes ago. Her car broke down and didn’t know who to turn to. I wasn’t expecting her to be your wife.”

“Really? Huh… Why didn’t you call me?” Keith chuckled at me, quick to wrap an arm around my quivering shoulders. Whether he noticed it or not, his attention was now diverted back to the ‘good samaritan’. “Never thought you’d run into my wife and help her with her car. What a wonderful coincidence though! I get to meet you instead of having to go through your assistant and all that formal stuff. Let’s get some drinks sometime, all right? My treat for helping out my wife.”

“Sure.” Smiling softly, Dáin Salvatore met my gaze once more then nodded briefly. “Good day, Mr. and Mrs. Cartiera.”

And as he walked back to his vehicle, I kept my gaze on his retreating, the tears forming in my eyes slowly fell, my body now catching up to the traumatic incident I went through. My ears ignored Keith’s concern, the grip on my shoulder tightened, his demands to know why I was weeping unheard. My head was reeling and silently begged not to see that dangerous man ever again—even if he were to be Michael Sorin, or used to be.