The phone trembled in Samuel's hand. His thumb hovered above the screen, his pulse hammering in his ears like a war drum.
"Samuel," the voice said again — low, gravelly, and cold as iron. It wasn't just a voice; it was a warning. Controlled. Calculated. Dangerous.
"The girl you're keeping in your house is my woman," the man continued. "She's pregnant for me. I don't want any misunderstanding. All I ask is for you to hand her over. I—"
Samuel's eyes narrowed sharply. His voice came out strained, half disbelief, half rising fury.
"Who?"
Silence.
The air in the room thickened instantly. The faint hum of the air conditioner filled the space, along with the soft tick of a wall clock — the kind of silence that felt like it was waiting to explode.
Simon leaned forward on the couch, brows furrowed in confusion. He mouthed silently, What's going on?
Samuel didn't respond. His jaw flexed, eyes still locked on the glowing screen.
"You've got the wrong number," he said tightly.
The man chuckled — a dry, mirthless sound. "No. Don't play games with me, boy. You're the guy hiding her. And now, I want you to bring her out. Untouched. If not… you won't like the consequences."
A cold knot twisted in Samuel's stomach. His skin prickled. Every word came like a knife pressed to his throat.
"What the hell are you talking about?" he managed to say.
"You heard me," the voice replied, calm and deliberate. "You've had your fun. Tomorrow. Noon. You'll bring her to me. Don't make me come looking."
Samuel's anger surged through his fear. "And who the hell are you to make demands like that?"
The voice didn't answer — not immediately.
Then, suddenly, there was a sound in the background. A scream.
Victoria's voice. Terrified.
Samuel froze.
"Do not test me," the man said, voice turning to ice. "I've been patient long enough. I've let her run wild. But the show's over. You'll bring her to the location I send you. Tomorrow. Noon. Don't be late."
"You're insane," Samuel hissed.
"You have one day," the man said softly — almost a whisper. "Make the right choice."
Click.
The line went dead.
Samuel stood there, phone still in his hand, the dial tone humming like static in his chest. His mind felt blank — but his heart was racing so fast he thought it might burst.
Simon was already on his feet, alarm flashing in his eyes. "Samuel! What just happened? Who was that?"
Samuel's throat tightened. His voice came out rough, shaken. "Don Jack. He said he's her boyfriend. Knew my name. Said I've been hiding her. And that I need to bring her to him tomorrow — 'untouched.'"
Simon's face drained of color. "Jesus Christ… I told you! I told you something about that girl was dangerous!"
Samuel turned toward the window, the city lights flickering in his reflection. His thoughts were chaos. "He sounded like someone who could kill."
Simon nodded sharply. "Exactly. You're not dealing with a jealous ex. This guy's serious. And if he's got Victoria, he's not bluffing."
Samuel's mind raced. Every second of silence between them seemed heavier.
He turned suddenly and stormed down the hall.
He didn't knock.
He shoved the door open.
"Stephanie!"
The girl on the bed jumped, clutching a pillow to her chest. Her eyes widened — frightened, trembling.
Samuel's voice thundered across the small room. "Who the hell is Don Jack?!"
Stephanie's lips parted, but no sound came.
Samuel took two steps closer, anger and disbelief swirling inside him. "You didn't tell me everything, did you? You left out a lot."
"Samuel…" she whispered, her voice trembling.
"I just got a call," he said, voice low and fierce. "From a man who says he's your boyfriend. He's got Victoria — your friend! He wants me to bring you to him tomorrow. Says I've been hiding you. What the hell does that mean?"
Stephanie's eyes darted everywhere but his face. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, breath shallow and uneven.
"Talk to me!" Samuel shouted. "Who is he?"
Her voice finally broke through, small and fragile. "I... I was afraid."
"Afraid of what?"
"That you'd throw me out," she whispered, tears spilling down her cheeks. "That if you knew the truth, you'd stop caring…"
Samuel rubbed his face hard, pacing like a man losing control. "Stephanie, you have to stop this! I opened my home to you. I've done everything I can to help — and you're still hiding things from me!"
"I didn't mean to lie," she cried, voice cracking.
"Then tell me!" he demanded. "Who is Don Jack? And who are you?"
She blinked rapidly, as if the question itself hurt.
"I mean it," he pressed, his voice raw. "Who are you really, Stephanie? Because right now, I don't even know who's standing in front of me."
Stephanie's hands trembled as she covered her face. Her words came out in a choked sob.
"I didn't ask to be part of his life," she said, trembling. "He's my friend's brother. I never wanted him. He used me. Controlled me. When he got me pregnant, he said I belonged to him. I was just a girl with no one. I didn't know how to fight back."
Her voice broke again, each word soaked in pain. "He kept beating me. I thought he would kill me. So I ran."
Samuel's fists clenched at his sides. "Why didn't you tell me this from the start?"
"I was scared," she whispered. "He said he'd find me no matter where I went. That no one would protect me. Not even the police."
She lifted her head, eyes shining with tears. "You were the first person who made me feel human again."
Samuel stared at her — not with anger anymore, but something heavier. Pity. Fear. Responsibility.
"Have you told your parents?" he asked softly.
She shook her head.
He sighed deeply. "Then tomorrow, we go to them. You're packing your things tonight."
Stephanie blinked. "What? Why?"
"Because it's not safe here anymore," Samuel said firmly. "He already knows my name. He's got your friend. He'll come here next. And I won't let that happen."
She nodded weakly, tears streaking her face.
Samuel turned away, his chest tight with a thousand questions and no answers.
He returned to the living room. Simon looked up immediately.
"Well?"
Samuel sank into the couch, rubbing his temples. "He's more than an ex. He's dangerous. She says he used her. Controlled her."
Simon frowned. "And you believe her?"
Samuel didn't answer right away. He just stared into space. "I don't know what to believe. But if she's telling the truth, we have to help her."
Simon crossed his arms. "Then we need a plan. Because this Don Jack guy doesn't sound like someone who plays fair."
They sat in silence, the tension thick between them.
Outside, the city lights blinked. Somewhere far off, thunder rolled.
---
Later That Night…
Stephanie sat on the edge of the bed, eyes red and swollen from crying.
She reached for the drawer beside her and pulled out a small velvet pouch. Her fingers trembled as she opened it. Inside were worn passports, folded papers, and old ID cards.
She picked one up.
Maya Johnson
Age: 19
State: Abia
Her breath hitched.
"I'm sorry, Samuel," she whispered, tracing her finger over the photo. "You were never supposed to be involved."
She reached deeper into the pouch and found a folded note — a piece of paper with shaky handwriting.
> "If you're reading this, it means I didn't make it.
Don't trust anyone. Not even him."
Her hands shook. The words blurred through her tears.
Slowly, she looked up into the mirror.
The reflection staring back wasn't Stephanie — the quiet, soft-spoken girl Samuel thought he knew.
It was Maya Johnson.
A girl on the run.
"Stephanie was just a name," she muttered under her breath. "Maya is who they're looking for. But they'll never find me."
From the pouch, she pulled out a small burner phone, wrapped in tissue.
She unwrapped it carefully and pressed the button. The screen flickered to life.
Two missed calls.
Unknown number.
And one voicemail.
Her breath caught as the phone buzzed in her hand.
The message started to play.