A Night With The Ruthless Billionaire

As I hurried out of Aria's suit, the walls of the hotel seemed to close in on me. My heart raced, and my hands were trembling. I needed to get away from everything - the hotel, the lies, the threats.

"Emma, wait!" Lisa's voice called out from behind as I reached the lobby.

I turned to see her jogging toward me, her face etched with concern. Racheal, another worker from housekeeping, trailed behind her.

What happened there?" Lisa asked, her voice low, but insistent. "You looked like you were about to pass out."

I glanced over my shoulder, feeling exposed. 'It's… it's nothing," I muttered, pulling my jacket tighter around me. "I just need to get home.

Lisa raised an eyebrow. "Nothing? Come on, Emma. You've been off for days now. Did Mr. Thatcher say something?"

Racheal stepped closer, her arms crossed. "Yeah, or is it… someone else? Like, someone more powerful?" Her voice dropped, suspicion heavy in her tone.

Panic rose in my throat. They couldn't possibly know? I shook my head, trying to find the words to push them away without making it worse. "I really can't talk about it," I said quietly. "I need to go. My mom… she's not well."

Lisa's grip tightened on my arm. "Emma, we're worried about you," she said softly. "If something's going on with Mr. Thatcher - or the Cardwells - we can help."

My heart raced at the mention of the Cardwells. I wanted to tell them everything, to scream, but I couldn't. 

Alex's threats hung over me like a second skin, tightening every time I thought of speaking up.

It's not that simple," I whispered, pulling away from Lisa's grip. "Please, leave it alone. 

Rachel's expression softened, but Lisa still looked frustrated. "Emma, we just want to help…"

Without another word, I turned and hurried out of the hotel ignoring the way their concerned eyes followed me. I felt like I was walking toward the edge of a cliff.

.....

By the time I reached home, exhaustion and panic had taken their toll. I approached the front door, but the sight of it slightly ajar made my blood run cold.

My heart skipped a beat as I carefully pushed the door open, my voice shaking as I called out, "Mom!"

No response.

I stepped inside, dread filling me as I looked around. "Mom!" I called again, louder.

Then, I heard voices - low, rumbling voices.

 I froze, the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. Slowly, I moved towards the living room.

There they were - three men, one elderly and two younger, more intimidating men. 

The older man stood near the window, speaking in quiet tones. His presence filled the room, exuding authority. The two muscular men behind him - bodyguards - stood with cold, watchful eyes.

I gasped, covering my mouth with my hand as I watched the elderly man. I knew him. The picture. He was the man in the old photograph I'd found in my mother's room.

 But what was he doing here? And why were these men talking to my mother?

The moment they noticed me, the older man motioned to his guards.

In a blink, they were gone, their heavy footsteps echoing as they left without a word. The door clicked shut, leaving a quiet silence behind.

I rushed to my mother's room, my heart pounding. I needed to see the picture again. I needed to know who the man was. My mind raced with questions, fear gripping me tighter with each step.

But when I started searching, the picture was gone.

Frantically, I tore through her drawers, her bedside table, searching for the one clue that tied my mother to that man. But it had  disappeared.

"Emma!" My mother's voice rang out behind me, sharp with anger. I turned to see her standing in the doorway. "What are you doing?" She demanded, her voice more forceful than I'd heard in months.

"I'm looking for something," I said, my breath coming fast. "That picture - who was that man?"

Her face pales instantly, and for a moment, she didn't say anything. She just stared at me, her lips pressed into a thin line.

"Mom, you need to tell me."  I pressed, my voice rising with frustration. "Why were they here today?"

Her hands clenched at her sides, and she shook her head. "It's none of your concern, Emma," she replied, her voice tight.

None of my concern?" I snapped, frustration spilling over. "You've been hiding things from me, why? What are you so afraid of?"

Her hands clenched into fists. "Stop asking questions, Emma," she muttered. "It's better if you don't know."

She left the room, leaving me standing in the mess I had made.

....

Later, I sat at the kitchen table, my hands around a cup of tea, trying to calm my nerves. My mind kept circling back to Alex, the threats, and now, the mysterious man from the picture.

Just as I began to relax, my mother's voice cut through the silence. "Emma." she said softly.

I looked up to see her standing in the doorway, her face etched with worry. 

"What are you thinking?" I forced a smile, but it felt brittle, ready to crack at any moment.

She walked over slowly, pain etched on her face. "I'm sorry about earlier ," she said, taking my hand.

I took a deep breath, trying to keep my voice steady. "Mom… something happened at work."

Her eyes widened. "What happened?"

I swallowed hard, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. "The manager… he knows. He threatened me. He said I'd lose my job if I ever talked about what happened. And Alex - he offered me money to keep quiet."

Her grip tightened on my hand. "The Cardwells…" she whispered, fear in her voice. "They won't stop."

I frowned, confusion swirling in my chest. "What do you mean?" I asked.

She hesitated, her eyes darting around the room as if someone might be listening. "Emma, please. Stay away from the Cardwells."

"But you promised me justice, Mom," I said, my frustration growing. "Why are you changing your mind now?"

She looked at me, her eyes filled with sadness. "There's so much you don't know, Enma. The Cardwells… they're dangerous," she whispered."

Before I could ask her what she meant, her face twisted in pain. She gasped, clutching her chest, and collapsed onto the floor.

"Mom!" I screamed, dropping to my knees beside her. Her eyes rolled back, and her body went limp in my arms. "Mom, no! Please, no!"

I fumbled for my phone, barely able to dial through my shaking hands.

"Emergency services," the operator's voice came through the line. "How can l help you?"

My mother!" I cried, my voice breaking . She's collapsed. I think she's having a heart attack. Please, send help!"