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Chapter 2 {: Wishful Thinking}

  • Fifty or so men in black suits surrounded a grand mansion, standing alert at their assigned posts. As the large, black gate swung open, a white limousine entered the premises. One of the sharply dressed guards quickly approached the car, opened the door, and stood at attention as an older man, dressed in a dignified gray suit, stepped out. Beside him, a lady in an elegant golden dress gracefully emerged, her hand holding onto the man's arm as she descended from the vehicle.She was dressed in a Golden elegant dressed and a gold wedge shoe to match her dressing, her stylish bag underneath her armpit.
  • "Welcome back, Sir. Welcome back, Ma'am," the guards greeted with respect, their hands placed over their chests.
  • Mr. and Mrs. Ross acknowledged the greetings with a nod before making their way into the mansion. As they passed, a hushed conversation erupted among the guards.
  • "How I wish their daughter was as kind as they are," one of the men in suits muttered.
  • "Keep wishing, Fabian," another guard replied, shaking his head. "Were you not there when she assaulted a female worker just because she didn't like her hair? And didn't she slap her maid for bringing back a dripping ice cream?" he added, prompting a nod of agreement from Fabian.
  • "Where you not also there when she kicked Lex in the balls for going against her?" He asked again.
  • Fabian shivered, remembering the scene again. " I was close to him" he mumbled.
  • "So you see just how hopeless it is to think that way." He stated before going about his duty.
  • Fabian muttered, "Money. The root of all evil," as he watched Mr. and Mrs. Ross enter their mansion, knowing that his words were merely wishful thinking. Regretfully, he shook his head and followed behind his friend.
  • Inside the mansion, the atmosphere was heavy as Mr. and Mrs. Ross expressed their shock at finding their daughter, Diana, seated with her legs crossed, glaring at them in anger.She was seriously pissed at her father for stopping her from dealing with the manager.
  • "Why did you do that?" Diana asked, her frustration evident.
  • Mr. Ross struggled to contain his rising anger, taking deep breaths before responding. "How could you harm another woman?" he seethed, still reeling from the details he had heard about his daughter's actions. Mrs. Ross placed a comforting hand on his back, speaking softly to calm him down. "Calm down. You know your heart," she whispered.
  • “My heart will always be in trouble if this daughter of yours continues to do things that upset me," Mr. Ross muttered. "Let's hope that your actions today won't come back to haunt you," he warned Diana.
  • Diana scoffed, dismissing her father's concern. "Who would dare try such?" she retorted, rising to her feet with confidence.
  • Mr Ross faced her, his eyebrows raise. " So... If I had given you the go ahead,you would send the guards to beat up my friend?" He asked, quite shocked. He was surprised his daughter turned out to be this wicked. Yes,he spoils her alot because she is his only child but not to the extent of her looking down on others. "What have we done to deserve this?" He sadly mumbled.
  • Diana let out a low chuckle. " He is so lucky he is your friend. If not I would have dealt with him my own way."
  • Mr Ross mouth opened in shocked as he stared at his daughter.
  • "Diana." Mrs Ross admonish.
  • "What?" Diana asked. "What I said is the truth" she continued and plopped back down on the chair.
  • Mr Ross stared at her for a while before he shook his head and went upstairs.
  • Mrs Ross looked upstairs before facing her daughter. " Why do you always make your Dad angry?" She asked, her hands cupping her bosom.
  • Diana smacked her lips together. "Because he likes pissing me off." She muttered her eyes on the screen.
  • "Diana!" Mrs Ross yelled and pinch her arm.
  • "Ouch... Mum!" Diana pouted rubbing her arm. "That hurt." She said after a while.
  • "That's because it's supposed to," Mrs. Ross said before turning and climbing the stairs. "Go outside, let your father calm down," she continued, her tone firm but compassionate.
  • Diana groaned in response. "I was planning on going out before you told me," she yelled, grabbing her bag and storming out of the mansion. Three guards rushed to her as they saw her coming out.
  • "Ma'am, where are you going?" one of the guards asked as he approached.
  • Diana faced them with a glare. "None of your business," she snapped, stopping in front of her black Lamborghini. The guards exchanged confused looks before urging her to take at least two or three of them with her.
  • "I don't need a babysitter," Diana retorted, entering her car. "And don't think of following behind me if you don't want to feel my wrath," she warned before zooming out of the compound.
  • The guards watched her car leave with a sense of resignation. "This job is not an easy one," one of the guards remarked, earning nods from his fellow officers as they witnessed the car departing.
  • "Come on," Lex motioned to the guards, limping away with his middle still causing him pain. Doug shook his head, expressing his sympathy. "I pity him," he sighed. "But I'm lucky I wasn't the one."
  • Max, Fred, and Fabian nodded in agreement before refocusing on their duty.
  • Meanwhile, a masked figure emerged from a flowery bush, exclaiming in a booming voice upon seeing Diana's car leaving the mansion. With a shrill laugh, the masked figure hopped into a car and set off in pursuit of Diana.
  • Inside her car, Diana whistled along to “Shape of You” by Ed Sheeran blasting from the radio before switching over to the next lane. She noticed from her rearview mirror that the car behind her also moved to the next lane, but she brushed it off, nodding her head to the music. Making a U-turn, she realized the car behind her replicated her movement.
  • "Must be those bodyguards," she thought as she glanced at her rearview mirror, unaware of the danger trailing behind her.
  • " This is where you meet your end." The masked guy said driving behind her in a steady pace waiting for the right moment to strike.