Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 90
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[Bexley’s Place]
Frontman: Official meet tonight at 10. Delilahs are dancing.
Bexley looks like a terrified ghost as she read the text that sat on her phone screen from Frontman.
She stood behind one of her couches, balling her fists. She’s out of her covering clothes. Now her bodily wounds and scars are showing.
The infirmary at Valhalla tried it’s best for her, but they’re rod-induced bruises. Won’t heal early.
It might take months or even a year for this body to heal.
Meaning—no Valhalla money for a year. How would she survive?
Fine, Allison gives her heavy allowance monthly and pays her school tuition, but she still needs the club money to sponsor her luxurious lifestyle and buy herself a new car.
If she uses the allowance from Allison to buy a small Lexus, what would her school mates think?
She already bragged about how she can never enter a Lexus.
What the fûck is she gonna do?
She has to dance tonight. She totally has to lead the dance again.
The ringing doorbell made her jerk from her thoughts.
She quickly covered up her skin before going to the door.
Opening up, she saw the face she doesn’t even wanna see.
“Saint?”
“What’s up?” Saint leaned on her wall lazily, hands pocketed.
“What the hell are you doing in my house?” Bexley glared. “I only followed you to drink last night because Dora was there and—”
“And you wanted to shove it in her face?” Saint cut in sharply. “You think I don’t know that?”
“So why are you still here?” Bexley crossed her arms.
“I’m interested in knowing what went down during the days you disappeared.” Saint asked, flatly.
“Why would you be interested in my private life?” Bexley questioned.
“It’s not private of I know Dora got you and did something dirty to you before locking you up somewhere.” Saint entered the house.
“I didn’t invite you in.” Bexley retorted.
“I don’t care,” he elbowed her arm.
“Fûck you!” She cussed.
“On the bed, or on the floor?” Saint faced her fast.
“Cunt.” She rolled eyes.
“Where’s your kitchen?” He turned with a smile. “Are there carrots? Chinese noodles?”
“Don’t you dare enter my kitchen!” Bexley ran after him.
“Tomayo Tomato…” He grinned, sliding into the kitchen.
“Saint!!” She quickened her steps.
Outside the house, Tino stood, staring at the building with layered eyes.
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[Atlanta Georgia – 3pm]
On the private runway only used by politicians, two private jets made their touchdowns just two minutes away from each other.
From the first gold color one, Tobias stepped out with his attorney beside him. His attorney—a sturdy man in his early forties who looks brilliant as he marched with Tobias’s steps.
From the second white jet, Dean stepped down with three of his guards behind him and his own attorney too who looks older.
No one looked at each other. They just walked fast to their waiting cars.
Tobias in a Ferrari, and Dean in a Rover.
The drive to the Atlanta regional police headquarters was roughly five minutes from there.
Immediately the brothers entered with their lawyers, nearly half of the department on the outer desks stood.
“Holy….shit. the St. Graves??”
“Where the fûck is Sera?” Tobias demanded, impatience lurking above those words like wasps.
“Where is my wife!” Dean slammed.
Five cops rushed over to attend to them. Four went to Dean since he’s the well-known CEO anyways.
Only one went to Tobias.
“Sera?” He respectfully asked.
“Seraphina Redd from the real estate mogul family in NYC.” His attorney told the cop specifically.
“There’s no Seraphina Redd here.” The cop cleared. “Besides, why would Atlanta cops go to NYC for an arrest when they could simply alert the NYC police departments.”
“Now if I step into your cells, and find her in one of them, I’ll kill you in here and shove money into the mouths of your superiors to silence them.” Tobias growled, no calm.
“Here’s our apprehension log for today, sir.” The cop showed him his phone screen. “There’s no Seraphina Redd. You can trust my words.”
“You’re telling me Ruth Beaufort didn’t order any secrecy?” Tobias closed in, nearly entering the cop.
“Beaufort family?” The cop frowned. “No. In fact, none of our officers flew to NYC for any arrest today.”
“Thank you,” the attorney replied.
Tobias made his way out of the station, and at the same time, Dean made his way out.
They met by the door.
This time, Dean is definitely ready for a talk, so he stopped.
“I deserve an explanation on why you’re in this same city, trying to act like superman for my wife. Why are you here, Tobias?” He questioned.
“I can be wherever the fûck I want, Dean.” Tobias cockily cleared, lips tight. “And wife? You sound stupid.”
“Now that my wife and I are coming to a mutual understanding, you’re going to be a pain in the arse again?” Dean accused. “You’ve always been fond of having things you don’t deserve, but her? The only way she’ll reach you is when I have a number tag on my toe! You even lied that your face was between her legs, and it’s funny at this point. Are you that desperate for her body?”
Tobias laughed shortly without planning to. Who wouldn’t? There’s a clown right in front of him, swinging with the circus of stupidity.
“Damn, you’ve become more interesting, Dean. I should spend more time with you. Keep you around for entertainment.”
“The only person who deserves my time is her!” Dean shot. “It feels blissful whenever I’m with her, just like it felt last night when I was devouring her lips in my car!”
At that last statement, Tobias’s ears reddened. It was instantaneous as if he had just heard a taboo language.
The corner of his eyes tweaked, twice. His brows tweaked once, and his lashes refused to shake.
“I’ll find my wife myself….” Dean added. “Go find your sanity, you bloodthirsty moron.”
Dean walked out with his guards and attorney after that.
Tobias remained there. He didn’t even know his thumb was pressing his index, till his nail penetrated, and he bled to the floor.
“Wrath?” His attorney called.
That was enough to swing him back to the present.
He stepped out.
“They probably disguised as cops to take her and she’s somewhere in this city.” The attorney said.
Tobias retrieved his phone, checking the location of her phone.
It showed him Allison’s house in NYC. They must have arrested her there, and she must have left it there.
So…he checked the location of the gun he gave her since luckily…it has an attached tracker on it.
If she could just have the gun with her. And he guessed right.
The gun location is somewhere in this Atlanta city.
“Where the heck is Wolfson Avenue?” He faced the attorney.
The attorney opened the car door for him, gesturing.
“Get in, sir. I’ll drive.”
Tobias got in, and the attorney drove off smooth and fast.
Dean is still at the park, trying to mobilize a police search squad.
Two minutes later, ten cops from that headquarters were released for him. He left with them for the search.
Some went to Beaufort Mansion to check for the Beaufort family.
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