His Gold Digger✔️

Chapter 50

Stormi who was lying next beside me stirred. She wasn't used to waking up because of noises but this one did.

I was now panting as I stared hard into the darkness before me. I got up from the bed immediately and rushed towards the wall. I switched on the light, still panting from the nightmare.

"Mom? Is everything okay?" she stuttered.

Stormi squinted and protected her eyes from the bright light. I got back into bed immediately. And hugged her tightly. There was surprise in her eyes.

The dream felt so real that it had unnerved me greatly. "Everything is okay baby" I assured her "go back to sleep so you won't be late."

She nodded slowly as she peered innocently at me with those cute eyes. She wasn't just any normal child. She had a slightly old head on those young shoulders.

She simply behaved more maturely than most children of her age. In fact, she didn't sleep. She kept her eyes open and kept staring at me, her arched brows told me that she wasn't convinced by my assurance.

My phone began to buzz immediately. I got down from the bed and picked it from the new couche. It was Bella's number. My thoughts flew off in ten different directions. I panicked.

But I calmed down when I remembered that her pregnancy wasn't yet due. It was still months away.

There was silence in the other end. I could hear distant voices bantering in the background. They were voices of grown men. Another panic set in, as I wondered what she had gotten herself into.

"Hello?" I said.

But there was no response. Then I suddenly heard a scream. It was a woman screaming. My heart skipped a beat as a certain chill burst out through my spine.

"It's her. It's her!" I heard someone say. Suddenly the phone went off. I kept staring at the phone's screen wondering if I should call back the number. A thought told me not to. It was probably some bad man.

Then I remembered Bella. What if she was in trouble? The thought alone nullified every other thought in my head. I called the number again but it fell through. Just immediately, a message came in.

It said,

"Greenville. 3pm. No cops, else she dies."

The message sent chills down my spine. Bella had been kidnapped, in her state. Horrified, I took a glance back. Stormi was still staring in my direction, unblinking.

                       ****

I slammed on the brakes and backed up onto a steep, narrow dirt lane, the car spinning about in the muck.

I turned off the engine and sat listening to the canal's water and the motor's humming as it cooled.

A car drove by on the road above every now and again, but the small, dark metallic-brown automobile was well-screened by the thick late-summer foliage typical of a city constructed essentially on top of a marsh.

It had been drizzling off and on all day, and rain was on the way. 

I stepped out of the car after pressing the button to lift the top.I suddenly didn't want to carry the umbrella I'd retrieved from the back seat.

I shrugged into my Burberry trench coat, carefully removing my long hair from beneath the collar and letting it flutter out over her back before tossing it back inside.

My pride and joy was the gleaming chestnut mass. 

I'd always considered it to be my best feature, demonstrating that even those blessed with physical beauty are capable of insecurity.

The notion of this meeting, which had been planned with only a few hours' notice, irritated her considerably, but it would offer me the opportunity to finally clear things up with Lizzy.

With a scowl that pinched my aristocratic face, with its aquiline nose, firm chin, high and chiseled cheekbones, I feared the matter had gone beyond my control.

A spasm of petulance swept over me, prompting me to slam the door of the Mercedes. I hated people telling me what to do! Admittedly, my temper had cost me dearly of late, but, on the other hand.

it was at least partly responsible for the sparks that flickered those astonishingly green eyes-eyes that made even the most jaded human beings regard me with a certain amount of wonder.

I reflected that my mood, far more pessimistic than usual,

A wave of petulance washed over me, driving me to slam the Mercedes door shut. 

I despised it when people told me what to do! 

On the one hand, my rage had recently cost me dearly, but on the other side. 

It was at least partly to blame for the sparks that flashed in those incredible green eyes that made even the most jaded people look at me with awe.

I realized that my mood, which was significantly more negative than usual, was mirrored in my writing.

I could be put down to the flowering of an emotion I disliked intensely-guilt. I wanted to place the blame elsewhere, to act as if Mark had set all of these events in motion with my sheer stubbornness.

Like most people, I initially resisted taking responsibility for my choices, but I usually ended up doing it anyway.

This encounter was partially prompted by my desire to get out of the mess that my impulsiveness and quick anger had gotten me into. 

I was starting to think she'd made a mistake.

On my wrist, a tiny  wrist watch  read 8: 10 a.m. 

It was beginning to get dark. 

The sun was effectively shaded by the clouds and overhanging trees. 

I congratulated myself for wearing hiking boots and trousers as I started along the towpath, the wide, compacted strip of groundwhere harnessed mules had limped along pushing large ships up the canal, even though I was aware of being excessively warm.

As I walked up the towpath toward the house, I considered what Mrs. Nina had said—nothing too vehement, nothing threatening, perhaps something along the lines of "let's put our cards on the table," or "let's put this all behind us." 

Yes, I reasoned, that's the tone I wanted to use. 

Some people found my tendency of rehearsing her life in advance bothersome, but it had served me well throughout my life.

I had to improvise as well, with only 20 minutes to spare.

After a while, my calm assurance gave way to a mix of dread and rage. 

How dared him keep me waiting! 

What if something had happened, and this meeting was no longer required?

I'm sure I hadn't received word on my cellphone.1