Elena's car slowed as she entered the long, empty tunnel. Her headlights cut through the darkness, throwing long, twisted shadows along the concrete walls.
Still—he followed.
Whoever this man was, he had guts. Most would've given up by now. But not him. He stayed close, his headlights burning like cold eyes in the dark.
As they finally cleared the tunnel, Elena's grip tightened around the steering wheel. She caught a flicker of movement in her rearview mirror—a signal.
Her lips curled into a smirk. "Let's see how tough you really are," she muttered under her breath.
Out of nowhere, a black pickup truck shot forward like a missile.
With a thunderous crash, it slammed into the car tailing hers.
Tires screamed. Metal twisted. The car flipped, rolled, and skidded across the road in a violent spin.
Before the dust could even settle, three of Elena's men jumped into action.
They rushed to the wreck, guns drawn.
The man inside the wrecked car tried to crawl out, bloody and dazed, but he didn't make it far. Rough hands grabbed him, tying his wrists with thick rope before yanking a black hood over his head.
One of the men peeled away from the group and jogged down the street, where Elena had quietly parked her car behind a grove of trees.
"It's done," he panted, wiping sweat from his brow. "We've got him."
Elena gave a cool nod, a small, satisfied smile playing on her lips. "Good. Take him to the warehouse. Lock him down. I want him broken—but alive. Make him talk. I'll join you soon."
"Yes, ma'am," he said quickly.
Elena slid back into her car, trailing after her men at a steady, controlled pace.
When they reached the warehouse, there was no wasting time.
The man was dragged into a dark room where a single dim bulb swung overhead. Without ceremony, the interrogations began.
The sound of fists meeting flesh echoed through the hollow space. Moans of pain filled the room. Blood smeared across the cracked floor.
It didn't take long before he cracked.
A short while later, one of Elena's men approached her where she waited just outside the room.
"He's ready," he said, his voice flat.
Elena's eyes darkened. She rose from her seat and stepped inside, the door creaking open slowly.
The man sat slumped in a chair, his head drooping under the black hood. His body was a mess of bruises and blood.
When he sensed her presence, he stiffened, instinctively shrinking back.
Elena crossed the room, her heels clicking sharply against the floor.
With a single motion, she ripped the hood off his head.
"Let's get to the point," she said coldly, her eyes gleaming. "Who sent you?"
The man swallowed hard, fear flickering across his battered face.
Elena's eyes narrowed into sharp slits.
"Talk," she snapped, her voice cold as ice.
The man, now known as Michael, swallowed hard, his throat working painfully. His voice came out in a cracked whisper.
"Chloe... Chloe Davelon. She sent me."
Elena's heart skipped a beat at the name. Her anger bubbled just under the surface as she stepped closer, her expression calm but deadly.
"What did she want?"
Michael shifted in his chair, his whole body trembling.
"She... she wanted to know if you were still alive," he stammered. "She knows you too well. She thought maybe... maybe you had taken your own life. She didn't know you were still out there."
Elena clenched her fists at her sides, fighting to keep her emotions in check.
"How long have you been following me?"
"Five months," Michael said quickly, his voice thick with shame. "I searched everywhere. I couldn't find you... until I discovered you were involved with Victor Sherlock. Then I knew. You had to be alive."
Elena's face hardened. She moved even closer, her voice dropping to a deadly low.
"What else?" she asked. "What else do you know?"
Michael hesitated, his head lowering like a man walking toward his own grave.
"I—I found out you're pregnant," he said, voice trembling. "That's when it all fell apart. I was supposed to tell Chloe. I tried convincing myself not to. But... but I knew I had to eventually."
Elena's voice sliced through the heavy air.
"Who else knows?"
Michael shook his head frantically.
"No one. I swear. I was attacked before I could send anything back to her. I haven't spoken to anyone else."
A slow, cruel smile crept onto Elena's face. She turned to one of her men and gave a silent nod.
The man moved forward and untied the blindfold off Michael's face.
Michael blinked against the sudden light—and then froze.
Sitting on the table in front of him was a photo. His heart sank as he recognized the woman instantly. His girlfriend.
Elena's voice was mocking now, almost playful.
"My men pulled this from your wrecked car," she said. "Nice little coffee shop uniform she's wearing... but don't you think she looks prettier up close?"
Michael's face crumpled with terror.
"Please... please don't hurt her," he begged, his voice breaking. "I'll do anything you want. Just—leave her out of this."
Elena stepped even closer, her eyes locked on his like a predator sizing up its prey.
"That depends entirely on you, Michael," she said in a silky voice. "I have a new job for you."
Michael looked confused, his forehead creasing.
"What do you mean?"
Elena didn't smile. Her voice turned cold enough to chill the blood in his veins.
"You're going back to Monaco," she said. "To Chloe. You're going to spy on her. Watch everything she does. Report back to me."
Michael's stomach twisted. His hands, tied to the chair, trembled helplessly.
But Elena wasn't done.
"And if you betray me," she said, her voice smooth and cutting, "your girlfriend will pay the price."
Michael's eyes went wide with horror.
"No! Please—"
Elena cut him off with a wave of her hand.
"Good," she said simply, straightening. "You know what you have to do. I'll be in touch."
Without another glance at him, Elena turned and walked out of the room, her mind already spinning, plotting her next move.
Chloe had played her game long enough. Now, it was Elena's turn.
Back at the safehouse, Stella paced anxiously in front of the door. The moment Elena stepped inside, Stella rushed toward her, her eyes wide with worry.
"Are you alright?" she asked, voice tight with panic.
"I'm fine," Elena said with a small wave, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear.
But Stella wasn't convinced. She studied Elena's pale face carefully, still not sure whether to believe her.
"I hope they caught the bastard who was following you," she said.
Elena gave a short nod.
"They did. And I already know who sent him."
Stella motioned for her to sit down. "You need to rest. Let me grab you some juice," she said, hurrying toward the kitchen.
Elena barely made it a few steps into the living room before it hit her. Her body swayed—and then, without warning, she collapsed onto the floor.
Stella, returning from the kitchen with a glass of juice in her hand, froze in shock. The glass slipped from her fingers, shattering into a thousand tiny pieces across the floor.
"Elena!" she screamed, rushing to her friend's side. Dropping to her knees, she touched Elena's skin, feeling the terrifying stillness beneath her fingers.
"Elena, wake up! Please!"
Her hands shaking, Stella grabbed her phone and fumbled to dial emergency services.
"I need an ambulance!" she cried into the receiver. "Right now!"
The next few minutes felt like a lifetime. Stella stayed by Elena's side, whispering soothing words, even though her own heart raced with fear. Finally, the sound of sirens pierced the air. Paramedics rushed in, working fast and efficient, lifting Elena carefully onto a stretcher and rolling her out to the waiting ambulance.
The hospital was a blur of flashing lights, sterile walls, and the sharp smell of antiseptic. Stella paced the cold floor of the waiting room, her nerves raw. Every minute felt heavier than the last.
Please, let her be okay, she prayed silently.
Hours dragged by before the doctor finally emerged, his scrubs stained and his face drawn but calm.
"Is she alright?" Stella asked, her voice cracking with emotion.
The doctor offered a reassuring smile.
"She's going to be fine. She's been under a lot of stress, and her body simply couldn't handle it anymore. That's why she fainted. But she's strong. She just needs to rest."
Stella took a deep breath, relief crashing over her—but one fear still clung to her heart.
"And the baby?" she whispered.
The doctor's smile softened.
"The baby's fine too. Mother and child are safe. But you'll need to make sure she gets real rest from now on. Stress like this isn't good for either of them."
Stella nodded, tears stinging her eyes. For the first time in what felt like hours, her chest didn't feel so tight.
"Can I see her?" she asked.
"You can," the doctor said kindly. "But she's sleeping. Try not to wake her. Let her body heal."
Stella whispered a thank you and made her way quietly down the hallway. She found a hard metal bench just outside Elena's room and sat down heavily, her mind spinning.
She thought about everything Elena had been carrying on her shoulders—the fight for her company, the secrets, the betrayals. And through it all, Elena hadn't thought once about herself.
Tears welled up in Stella's eyes, but this time they weren't just tears of fear. They were tears of fierce loyalty.
"I'm not going to let her fight this battle alone," Stella whispered into the empty hallway.
"I'll handle everything. I'll make sure she gets the rest she needs. She deserves that much... and more."
As she sat there, a new wave of strength filled her. Elena had fought enough battles. Now, it was Stella's turn to fight for her.