Rebecca reaches into her wallet and pulls out a black debit card. On the front of the card, there’s a purple and gold thistle—the Bamford family symbol. She catches Leilani staring at the card, and she puts it down.
“I know it’s not mine,” she says quickly. “I haven’t had time to set up a new bank account yet, so Waylen let me use his card.”
“That’s nice of him,” Leilani says. “But you don’t owe me any explanations.”
She reaches into her own wallet, trying to hide her expression from Rebecca. It hurts to see her waving around Waylen’s card so casually. It took so much work before he even let me borrow it, Leilani thinks. Everything seems to be moving so much faster between him and Rebecca.
“I appreciate your offer, but I’ll pay on my own,” she says.
“Okay,” Rebecca agrees. “But only if you promise to go shopping with me after this.”
Leilani smiles and nods. Something about Rebecca’s gracious manners makes it impossible to refuse. Besides, she feels bad—Rebecca is stuck in the wheelchair, and the tall, stern-looking nurse doesn’t seem like a good shopping partner.
“What do you think of that dress?” Rebecca asks, pointing at a beige wrap dress in the Armani window.
“I was just looking at it,” Leilani says. “I think it’s beautiful.”
“Would you try it on for me?” Rebecca asks. “It’s too hard for me to change in the wheelchair, but we have similar figures. If it flatters you, I’m sure it’ll work on me too.”
Leilani slips into the changing room and ties the dress around her waist. The fabric is clingy without being revealing, and it’s as soft and light as a cloud. She steps out of the dressing room, and Rebecca’s face lights up.
“It’s so beautiful,” Rebecca says. “You look great in it, too. How about we each get one and wear them as a matching friend look.”
“Sure,” Leilani agrees.
When she comes out of the fitting room again, the assistants are already wrapping up the dresses. Rebecca smiles brightly and takes Leilani’s hand in hers. Leilani’s stomach knots with guilt. Rebecca is so generous to accept me as a friend even after she found out that I’m Waylen’s ex, Leilani thinks. What would she think if she knew that Waylen and I slept together at the banquet? She’d be devastated.
“I’m sorry, Leilani, you probably think my behavior is a bit strange,” Rebecca says. “You see, I’ve always wanted a sister, but I only have a brother. I feel like you’re the sister I never had.”
Leilani nods. She wants to comment on her own disappointing sisters, but then she thinks better of it—Rebecca might read too much into it. She takes the bags from the salesgirls and forces herself to smile.
“Where do you want to go next?” she asks Rebecca.
“Let’s get our hair done,” Rebecca says. “I’ve heard there’s a great salon in this mall, and I’m afraid the hospital hasn’t been good to my poor hair.”
The stylists finish Rebecca’s hair first, and the nurse wheels her way to the waiting area. When Leilani finishes, she expects to find Rebecca flipping through some magazines, but she’s nowhere in sight. After ten minutes, she starts to get worried. What if Rebecca had to go to the bathroom but got stuck because of her wheelchair?
She knocks on the bathroom door, but no one answers. She tries to open it, but it’s locked. She knocks again and hears faint, muffled screaming. She backs away, ready to call for help, but the door swings open, and a man in a black ski mask pulls her inside.
Rebecca’s nurse is on the floor. The nurse’s wrists are twist-tied, and duct tape covers her thin mouth. She squirms and wiggles, and another masked man kicks her hard in the ribs. Leilani stares in shock at Rebecca—she’s still in her wheelchair, but a third masked man is holding a wicked-looking silver knife to her neck.
“Let me go,” Rebecca says, trying to pull away from the man with the knife. “I can give you a lot of money, I swear.”
“Shut up,” the man hisses.
He presses the knife to her neck, and dark red blood trickles down Rebecca’s pale skin. The man seems surprised, and he pulls the knife back, but the blood continues to flow. It flows down Rebecca’s neck, staining her dress and dripping onto her lap. The masked man who kicked the nurse tears a strip of fabric from Rebecca’s dress and handed it to her. She presses it to the wound on her throat, but the blood soaks through within seconds.
“Just tell me what you want,” Leilani says, pulling her credit card out of her purse. “Money? I can give that to you no problem—just let my friend go first. As soon as she’s safe, I’ll tell you the PIN, and you can get all the cash you want from the nearest ATM.”
“Do you think we’re stupid?” the man with the knife asks. “Who knows if there’s any money on that card? It looks pretty ordinary. I want a better card—a limitless black one, maybe.”
“Rebecca, give them the black card,” Leilani says.
Rebecca shakes her head and asks, “What black card?”
“The one in your wallet,” Leilani says. “Just give it to them. Maybe they’ll leave us alone.”
“But, it’s Waylen’s card,” Rebecca whimpers.
“So what?” Leilani asks. “You know the PIN. Give them the card and tell them the PIN.”
“I can’t,” Rebecca groans.
Leilani stares at the thick blood covering Rebecca’s delicate neck. It oozes between her fingers and pools on the floor at her feet. There shouldn’t be so much blood from a simple cut—something is wrong.
“Why is she still bleeding?” one of the attackers asks, his voice tinged with fear. “We weren’t supposed to kill anyone.”
“I swear I didn’t even cut her,” the man with the knife says. “I just put it against her neck.”
“Never mind,” the third man says, “Just restrain her.”
He pushes Leilani into the middle of the bathroom, and another man grabs her. She tries to cover her stomach, but the man doesn’t make any move to hit her. He holds her hands behind her back, and her shoulder twists painfully in its socket.
“Come on, just let her go,” Leilani says. “Clearly, she’s really wounded. I know you guys just want money, but if she dies, you’ll be in a lot of trouble.”
“I’m sick of listening to you, bitches whine,” the leader says. “If neither of you can pay now, we’ll take you with us and try to collect on the ransom.”
“You can’t get a ransom for a dead woman,” Leilani says. “Just let her go, and I’ll go with you. I’ll do whatever you say.”
The men glance at each other, and the leader says, “What use are you? You have a normal credit card. She’s the one with the black card. Besides, she seems richer than you.”
“Listen to me,” Leilani says. “Do you know who Waylen Bamford is? Well, he’s the president of The Bamford Group and the father of my baby. The Bamford family will do anything to make sure their heir is okay. You can name your terms, and they’ll give you whatever you want.”
“Why should we believe you?” the leader asks.
“Just release me, and I’ll get you all the money you want,” Rebecca whimpers.
“Fine,” the leader says. “You can go and get the money. I’ll text you an amount and a drop point. But I swear, if you call the cops, she and her baby are both dead.”
Rebecca presses the torn dress to her neck with one hand and fumbles for the sink with the other. The water rushes on, and she cups her hand and splashes it onto her nurse’s face. The nurse coughs and splutters, and her eyes flicker open.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.
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