CHAPTER FIVE
Meanwhile, in the dimly lit building where Kamila was being held, her face remained covered by a rough cloth bag. Her wrists and ankles were tightly bound to a wooden chair, the coarse rope biting into her skin.
She stirred awake slowly, disoriented, her thoughts scrambling to piece together what had happened. The air was heavy with silence—an unnatural kind of stillness that only made her more uneasy. Somewhere close by, faint footsteps began to echo, each one growing louder and more deliberate. Her heartbeat quickened, thumping so violently it almost drowned out the sound. Whoever it was stopped directly in front of her, the floorboards creaking under their weight.
Kamila noticed something chilling: despite what sounded like a struggle earlier—someone had died, she was sure of it—the entire place was now eerily quiet. That stillness, rather than comforting her, tightened the knot of fear in her chest.
"Please… please spare me!" she cried out desperately. "I'll come back to the club, I'll do anything you want—I mean anything—just spare me, Fredrick!" Her voice cracked under the weight of panic.
A hand yanked the bag off her head, and blinding light hit her eyes. Her vision swam at first, the outlines around her still blurred, until a familiar face came into focus. Jacob.
Kamila froze, then quickly shut her eyes again, blurting out, "Please, I didn't see anything. Just let me go!" Her tone made it obvious she was lying.
Jacob's voice came, smooth but with a cold edge. "You can open your eyes. We're just here to talk—nothing more, okay?"
Reluctantly, Kamila obeyed, blinking until she could fully see him. Jacob dragged a chair across the floor, its legs scraping, and sat across from her.
Still trembling, she asked, "Please… what do you want from me?"
"I just have a little job for you," Jacob replied.
Her eyebrows knitted together. "What job?"
"I want you to go to Odell Industries and pretend to be the daughter of their president," Jacob said evenly. "When they ask for verification, give them this file. Then you wait until I give you further instructions."
He gestured to one of his men, who stepped forward and sliced through the ropes binding her wrists. Her hands tingled with returning blood flow as Jacob handed her a sealed document.
Her mind spun. No wonder John kept telling me he owned Odell Industries… turns out I actually look like his daughter.
Jacob rose from his chair. "In fifteen minutes, the police will be here. All you've said is that you didn't see anyone. That way, your siblings in Mexico will remain safe and sound."
A shiver rippled through her body, but then her fear hardened into something sharper—anger. Her eyes burned with defiance. "If you touch a single strand of their hair," she said, her voice low and steady, "I'll find you myself and kill you. Slowly. You'll beg me to end it."
Jacob didn't so much as flinch. He turned and walked out with his men, leaving her alone in the room.
---
Twelve minutes later, sirens wailed outside. The door burst open, and police officers stormed in, weapons raised, with Detective Grimes and his partner Peter at the front.
The room was dark, and Kamila feared they might mistake her for a threat. She quickly raised her hands. "Don't shoot—it's me! Kamila!"
Grimes signaled to the others to hold their fire. "Hold!" he commanded, keeping his own hands visible as he approached her. He crouched down and began untying the ropes around her ankles.
"Where are they?" he asked sharply.
"I… I don't know," Kamila said, her voice weak.
She pushed herself unsteadily to her feet. "Can I go now?"
Grimes looked at her incredulously. "Of course not. You were just kidnapped—we need you at the station to fill out a statement."
Kamila swayed, still shaky, and nodded. Grimes motioned for two officers to escort her to the hospital before taking her in.
As she was led out, Grimes narrowed his eyes, his instincts stirring.
Peter noticed. "That look—you only give it when you're suspicious of something."
"Something doesn't add up," Grimes murmured. "Her head wasn't covered when we came in, so how didn't she see where they went? And her hands—untied already."
Peter shrugged. "Let's get to the station first, before you start spinning conspiracy theories."
---
At the hospital, the doctor examined Kamila, declaring her physically unharmed but severely stressed. He advised rest, but soon she was cleared for questioning.
In the station's interrogation room, Grimes sat waiting.
"We meet again," he said with a faint smile.
Kamila remained stone-faced.
"Why were you outside the station the other day?" he asked.
"I was looking for someone," she replied flatly.
"And who was that?"
She sighed, irritation creeping into her tone. "Oh, I'm sorry—didn't realize this was a detention. I need to leave."
An officer stepped forward to block her path, but Grimes held up a hand. "Let her go."
As Kamila exited, he called the same officer aside. "Keep your men on her at all times. I think she's being threatened."
The officer nodded. "Yes, sir."
Peter stepped into the room after watching from behind the one-way glass. "So what's the plan?"
"I don't know," Grimes admitted. "I just hope they take the bait."
Peter frowned. "Wait—you mean she's the bait?"
"She didn't leave us much of a choice," Grimes said, already walking out.
---
Back outside, an officer discreetly called Jacob. "Sir, she didn't talk."
"As I expected," Jacob replied coolly. "Just watch her. If she talks—waste her."
The officer hesitated. "What about Detective Grimes?"
"Waste him if necessary."
---
When Kamila returned home, she immediately tore open the envelope Jacob had given her. Inside was a file containing documents and photographs—images of a young woman who looked disturbingly like her, though the backgrounds were unfamiliar.
She stared at them, her jaw tightening. "Since you don't want to let me live in peace," she muttered, "then we're going down together."
Her mind was already working. She could use Odell Industries' vast resources to hunt Jacob down and eliminate him before he could harm her siblings. But a question gnawed at her: How did he even find them in Mexico?
The more she thought about it, the more determined she became.
For days, she studied every angle, every loophole, until she crafted a plan. If she could convincingly claim to be the Odell heiress, she might gain legitimate control of the company—through inheritance rights.
Tomorrow, she would put her plan into motion.Though her hands still trembled with nerves, her resolve had never been sharper.