Chapter 6 The Mysterious Phone Call

• he old man’s chuckle rolled down the line, deep and unhurried, before he finally spoke.
• “My dear boy, you don’t even recognize the voice of your own legal guardian? It’s me, of course.”
• Oliver stiffened. That voice…it was familiar, yet one he’d rather forget or scraped at his memory.
• “Grandpa Charlie?” he asked, his tone edged with disbelief.
• The man laughed again, clearly pleased with himself. “How are you, my great-grandson?”
• Oliver's expression soured instantly, as his jaw tightened. This was the last voice he wanted to hear.
• “Why did you call, Grandpa?” he said, his voice low, clipped.
• “I called to tell you that your years of suffering are over, my lovely grandson!” Charlie’s voice swelled with enthusiasm. “It’s time you took over the business your father failed to run!”
• Oliver’s fingers curled into a fist around the phone as his mind quickly flashed back to what happened some years back.
• How he was sent out of the house. How no one ever treated him well!
• “Get lost! This place is not for people like you!”
• “Your father is dead so you don't belong here!”
• Remembering all of this, Oliver's face soured more and more.
• He tightened his fists as he said angrily.
• “Grandpa Charlie, I want nothing to do with you. We cut ties years ago after you left Mom and me to beg on the street like…”
• “Oliver—”
• “I’ve got to go, Grandpa!” He cut his Grandpa off, adding. “ And don’t call this number again. If you do, I won’t hesitate to block you.”
• He ended the call without waiting for a reply. A bitter taste rose in his mouth as he swallowed hard, trying to steady his breathing. But before he could pocket his phone, it buzzed again this time from a different number.
• “Oliver, my boy!” Charlie’s voice boomed once more. “I just wanted to remind you that I’m always here for you. Call me anytime you need help, and I’ll—”
• Oliver hung up mid-sentence and shoved the phone into his pocket. He let out a long sigh, trying to pull his nerves together.
• “I have come too far to start remembering them! I am no longer Oliver Thales. I am Oliver Smith and right now, they are not my priority! Zora is my priority!”
• Then he strode forward, his mind already racing.
• Where could Zora be? He stood at the edge of a busy city street, scanning faces, cars, signs but nothing came out of it. Then, a thought struck him. His jaw tightened, his fists clenching.
• “That beast,” he muttered. “How dare he?”
• Oliver was more agitated as he remembered sighting the last part of the message he saw on Zora's screen before she hid it.
• “Come alone to the bar! And look sexy!”
• Thinking about this, Oliver's nerves pulled all together. He was sure Luke Walker was the person who sent her that message and there is only one place he could have taken her, which is his club!
• As the thought of this met him, Oliver waved down a cab and slid inside.
• “C's Lounge!”
• “Fifty bucks!”
• “Drive on!” Oliver panted, his eyes fixed on the road.
• Whatever happened there tonight would be remembered. He didn’t care how dangerous it was, he wasn’t leaving without Zora.
• *****
• Inside C's Lounge,
• Luke had brought Zora into a velvet-lined VIP section guarded by men built like stone walls. The low hum of bass throbbed through the floor, but inside this room, the sound was muffled, like a heartbeat behind closed doors.
• “Drink first,” Luke said smoothly, pushing a glass toward her. “Then we’ll talk about… our future.”
• Zora’s eyes stayed fixed on him as she sipped nothing. He asked question after question—favorite color, dream city, what music she liked. His smile didn’t waver, but her patience frayed with every passing minute.
• Finally, she set her glass down with a hard clink. “Enough games, Luke. Why did you ask me to meet you here?”
• “Calm down—”
• “I refuse to calm down!” she shot back, rising from her seat. Her hands pressed flat against the table, her voice sharp. “I came here on a demand that you have something crucial to say but you are here speaking about our future! What future are you talking about?!”
• Luke’s smile faltered. His fist curled at his side. “Sit. Down.” His voice was quiet now, but tight as wire.
• Zora grabbed her phone. “If you don’t have anything else to say, I’m leaving. I’m a married woman, Luke. My husband will be worried sick.”
• She turned to go, but his hand shot out, clamping around her arm. His grip was iron, and it hurt.
• “You’re not leaving. Not yet.”
• She tried to wrench free, but he yanked her closer. “Let me go! You are hurting me!”
• Luke shoved her back onto the plush sofa, his face shadowed. He slid off his wristwatch with deliberate slowness.
• “What are you doing?” she demanded, her voice trembling.
• “Being a man,” he said, his gaze cold. “Doing what your little husband can’t. You’ll learn tonight that a man’s grip is stronger than a boy’s.”
• He unbuttoned his shirt, tossing it aside, then signaled to his guards. They exchanged a look, understanding that their boss asked them to leave the room. So, they filed out of the room, closing the door behind them.
• “Don’t do this, Luke,” Zora pleaded, backing into the cushions. “Please.”
• Her words barely seemed to reach him. He pulled his belt free with a snap, then dropped it to the floor.
• “Just relax, Zora. You’ll find out what it feels like to be with a real man, and of course, you will enjoy this to the fullest.”
• He lunged, pinning her wrists. His breath brushed her neck, his hands roaming.
• Just when he was about to kiss her…
• A pair of hands gripped his shoulders from behind and shoved him hard.
• Luke stumbled forward, catching himself on the table. He turned sharply and found Oliver standing there, eyes blazing.
• “You had the audacity to lay your hands on my wife! How dare you?”
• Luke straightened, brushing his shirt back into place. “Tough one, huh?” he said, stepping toward Oliver.
• Zora scrambled to her feet, tugging at her clothes.
• “No, Oliver. You don't have to do this! Let's just leave…”
• She said, making for Oliver, but Luke caught her wrist mid-step.
• “Where do you think you’re going?”
• Oliver’s hands curled into fists. “Let go of her. Now.”
• Luke smirked. “And if I don’t? What can a premature little boy like you do?” He slipped an arm around Zora’s waist possessively.
• Oliver stepped forward, but Luke’s voice cut through the air.
• “Look around you,” he said, tilting his head toward the shadows. Oliver slightly eyed his sides and saw a Group of men, muscled and able bodied, all holding one weapon or the other.
• Then Luke's voice came up again.
• “See all those men standing there? They are all prepared, waiting for me! Just one word from me, and you’re finished.”