The Spare To The Throne

Chapter 5: Whiskey & Smoke

"Are you sure you're okay?" my older brother, Mason, asked through the phone. "I can honestly buy you a plane ticket, so you can come stay with me or mom and dad. I seriously don't mind."

I gave a sly smile although he couldn't see it. "Quit worrying about me Mason. I appreciate it, but I'm fine, I promise. Besides," I say. "You have more important things to worry about, like that upcoming baby of yours."

I heard him heave a heavy sigh through the phone. "Yeah, you're right. Now that we're closer than ever to the due date, Chelsey has really been moody lately. Anyway, mom and dad are still concerned. They were going to fly out to come check and you, but I assured them that you were fine. They shouldn't worry too much."

"Thank you Mason, I'm honestly just glad that I'm safe again." I leaned down, picking up the TV remote, increasing the volume slightly. The news was currently on, and the reporters on the screen happened to be talking about the terrorist attack that took place at Wellington Corp last week. It appeared to be that the country was now mourning along with families that had lost loved ones.

"Yeah, well that makes two of us." Mason said.

I shifted the phone to my other ear, my eyes still trained on the screen. The screen now displayed a second reporter who was now standing in front of the building. I sat down, interested to know if any murder suspects were now under custody. The title on the screen now changed.

Prince Xavier Wellington Distressed About The Attack That Took Place At His Building In NYC:

I furrow my brows. A prince owned Wellington Corp? I wonder who he is.

"Although the prince has not yet disclosed any information to the authorities and law enforcements pertaining to the attack, we were told by an anonymous source that he does plan to-"

I lose focus when I hear the sound of someone's footsteps roaming around in my apartment. Immediately I jump up.

"Chelsey says she's worried about you too. She told me to ask if you'll be able to fly out when she's ready to give birth. She really wants you here Farrah."

Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

My heart skipped a beat. It was past nine, at night, so who could possibly be here. I listened carefully, trying to determine whether the footsteps were actually in my apartment, or if I was just hearing a nearby neighbor walking. Suddenly the sound of a vase crashing to the floor, reverberates through my penthouse. The sound of footsteps quickly multiply and I gasp with terror.

"Hey Mason l-let me call y-you back." I quickly rush, just before ending the call. I grab the TV remote, lowering the volume to make sure I wasn't being paranoid. The footsteps were coming from my bedroom, and I had no doubt about it.

"Nous devons trouver cette fille! Elle doit connaître le prince!" A voice whisper-yelled. I froze in fear, not knowing what to do. After a moment of realization that my life is currently in danger, I began to move, crawling on both hands and knees to the kitchen.

"Je ne comprends pas, à quoi bon l'emmener?" The voices sounded all too familiar. My stomach churned as a thought hit me harder than a ton of bricks. What if they were the guys from the terrorist attack? My body began to tremble. I grab the sharpest and largest kitchen knife I owned, gripping it with all my might.

"Idiot! C'est exactement pourquoi le patron m'a fait chef. Tenir la fille captive va attirer le roi! Et d'ailleurs, qui sait à quel point elle pourrait être utile au patron!"

"Ring-ring-Ring-ring-Ring-ring!"

The footsteps stopped. I frantically hit the end call button, hoping the intruders didn't here the incoming call from Mason.