Scorned and Reborn

A sharp, echoing crack split the night air, and Mary watched in horror as the accountant crumpled to the ground, his expression frozen in shock. A dark pool began spreading beneath him, and she barely had time to react before she dropped to her knees, ducking low against the car. Her guard tried to jump out of the car to protect her, but a second shot rang out, and he collapsed beside her, his body hitting the ground with a heavy thud.

Mary'spulse pounded in her ears as she pressed herself against the car. Her mind raced, struggling to process the ambush. Heart pounding, she peeked around the side of the car to see four men, heavily armed and moving with lethal precision, closing in on her. Panic seized her, and she glanced around, searching for any means of escape.

Then, out of nowhere, a figure emerged from the shadows. A man, swift and determined, darted toward her, gun drawn. He fired, hitting one of the assailants with expert precision, the attacker collapsing instantly. The remaining men turned their attention toward him, and a barrage of bullets erupted, ricocheting off the nearby cars and walls.

"Get down!" he yelled, ducking behind the car beside her.

His gaze was fierce, and his tone left no room for argument. He took down another assailant before his gun clicked empty, a look of frustration crossing his face. He turned to her, his eyes urgent.

"We have to run. Now!"

Mary, still reeling from the shock, found herself nodding. She gathered her senses and bolted for the driver's side of her car, slipping into the seat with the stranger right behind her. The engine roared to life as they sped away, bullets whizzing after them, shattering the rear window and riddling the car with dents.

Mary gripped the wheel tightly, her knuckles white as they tore through the deserted streets of Milan, the sound of gunfire fading in the distance.

After a tense silence, the man finally spoke.

"Turn here," he instructed, his voice steady but firm, directing her through a maze of side streets and alleyways. Mary followed his directions, desperate to shake the memory of the brutal attack and her close brush with death.

As they finally reached a quieter, more secluded part of town, Mary stole a glance at him, suspicion flickering in her gaze.

"Who are you? Why did you help me?" she demanded, her voice edged with a mixture of anger and fear.

The man's gaze remained focused ahead, his jaw clenched.

"It's not safe for you to go back to your hotel," he said, ignoring her questions.

"They know your movements."

Mary's Eyes narrowed.

"And how would you know that?" she pressed, feeling her anger rising. This stranger had swept her away, claiming to protect her, yet he offered no explanation.

He didn't respond. Instead, he turned sharply into a narrow driveway, stopping in front of an old, abandoned house. The building looked worn down, hidden away from the bustling city, as if it had long been forgotten. Before she could protest, he exited the car, gesturing for her to follow.

"Come on," he urged, glancing around to ensure they hadn't been followed. He led her down a set of steps toward a hidden basement entrance. Mary reluctantly followed, her instincts screaming at her to stay cautious, though she had little choice at the moment.

Inside the dimly lit basement, he rummaged through a pile of tools and grabbed a small device, kneeling beside her car. She watched in silence as he worked, finally retrieving a small black tracker from under the bumper.

He crushed it under his heel, then looked up at her with a grim expression.

"They've been tracking you since you arrived. This wasn't just a random attack."

Mary's Breath caught in her throat as the weight of his words sank in. Benjamin's voice echoed in her mind, his reassurances and the trust she'd placed in him. A chill crept over her as she wondered just how much he knew or had arranged.

Fury bubbled within her, yet she kept her expression calm.

"And who exactly are you?" she asked again, folding her arms across her chest, her voice cold.

He finally looked at her, his intense gaze softening just slightly.

"Let's just say I owe your father-in-law a favor. He saved my life once, and now I'm here to repay that debt."

Mary's Thoughts spun, torn between gratitude and distrust. Before she could respond, he took a step back, suddenly faltering. His hand flew to his shoulder, and she noticed, with a gasp, the blood seeping through his shirt.

"You were hit?" Mary exclaimed, reaching out instinctively, her concern momentarily overshadowing her suspicion.

The man shook his head, attempting a weak smile.

"It's… nothing," he muttered, but his strength was fading fast. He swayed, his hand slipping from his shoulder as he staggered.

"Hey hold on!" Mary reached out to steady him, but his legs buckled, and he collapsed against her, unconscious, his weight unexpectedly heavy.

In that moment, Mary felt a surge of fear and frustration. She barely knew this man, yet he had saved her life and risked his own to protect her. Now, as she held his slumped form, his face pale and his breathing shallow, she realized she was alone in a foreign country, tangled in a web of betrayal and danger.

The clock ticked on with agonizing slowness. Fourteen hours had passed since Mary's Guards had last seen her, and a sense of growing dread permeated the air in both London and Italy. As dawn broke over Milan, the news of a brutal attack had already spread. It made headlines across Italy, and word quickly reached London. The mysterious disappearance of a prominent London socialite was plastered all over the news, raising questions and suspicions.

At Mary's London home, the air was tense. Her mother-in-law, Margaret, paced back and forth, her face tight with worry, while Benjamin sat at the edge of the living room, his head buried in his hands. Jack, Benjamin's younger brother, had been trying to get in touch with Mary's Bodyguards all night, but each attempt had ended with the same unnerving result: silence.

When the doorbell finally rang, everyone's head turned sharply toward it, dread pooling in their stomachs. Benjamin looked at his mother, whose eyes narrowed as if she already knew what was coming.

The door swung open to reveal two police officers standing on the doorstep, their expressions grim and professional. Benjamin forced himself to appear calm, suppressing the anxiety gnawing at him as he greeted them.

"Mr. Loven?" the officer on the left asked, glancing at him and then at the others gathered in the room.

"We're here to inquire about your wife, Mrs. Mary Loven. We understand she traveled to Italy recently."

Benjamin exchanged a quick look with his mother before nodding, trying to keep his face neutral.

"Yes, that's correct. She went to Milan," he replied, carefully choosing his words.

"And was this a personal or business trip?" the officer continued, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied Benjamin.

"It was just a vacation," Margaret interjected smoothly, stepping forward with a forced smile.

"Mary wanted a few days to relax by the ocean. It's been a stressful few months, you know?"

The officer raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced but unable to press further without evidence.

"I see. And how often do you typically check in with her? It's been reported that her guards lost contact over fourteen hours ago."

"Mary's An independent woman," Benjamin replied, forcing a strained chuckle.

"She enjoys her space, and we don't like to hover. But yes, this lack of contact is… unusual."

The officers exchanged a glance. "As you may already know, there was an attack in Milan late last night. We cannot confirm her involvement, but we're investigating all possibilities. If there's any information that could help us, we urge you to share it."

Benjamin swallowed, casting a fleeting look toward Margaret. She gave him a small, warning nod, reminding him of their earlier decision to keep certain details to themselves.

"No, nothing out of the ordinary," Benjamin said carefully. "Mary simply wanted some time away. That's all we know."

The officers regarded them for a moment, suspicion evident in their gaze.

"Very well," one of them finally said.

"But if you hear anything, anything at all, please contact us immediately."

They handed Benjamin a card and, with a last scrutinizing look, turned to leave. The moment the door closed, the pretense of calm shattered.

Margaret spun to face Benjamin, her voice a harsh whisper.

"How could you let this happen? We have to find her, and fast. The police are watching us now, and if they get wind of the real reason she went to Italy…"

Jack stepped forward, frowning. "It doesn't help that it's all over the news. If they connect her to that vault…"

"I'm aware, Jack!" Benjamin snapped, his frustration boiling over. He ran a hand through his hair, his gaze hardening. "We need to act fast and figure out where she is before they do."

Jack nodded. "We can get in touch with a few people in Milan, try to find out if anyone saw her before the attack. It's a start."

Margaret took a shaky breath, attempting to regain her composure.

"Then do it. Whatever it takes, we have to bring her back before she says something or… before she doesn't come back at all."

Benjamin clenched his fists, a bitter anger brewing in his gut. He had sent Mary to retrieve the money, and now, with her life at risk, he felt a pang of guilt mixed with resentment. If she hadn't disappeared, if she had just stayed safe like he'd planned…

"I'll make some calls," he muttered, heading for his study.