Why Don’t You Just Finish the Job and Kill Her?
Why Don’t You Just Finish the Job and Kill Her?
She picked up her fork, then paused, laughing lightly. “I still can’t believe this is real.”
Joseph raised an eyebrow, amused. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
She gestured around them. “This. The stadium. The field. Just us.”
“I wanted something that matched how I feel,” he replied casually as he cut into his food.
“And how do you feel?” Susan asked, tilting her head.
Joseph looked up at her, meeting her gaze directly. “Focused,” he said. “Present. Interested.”
Her smile softened. “Really?”
"Yes." Joseph responded almost instantly.
They began eating slowly, neither rushing, savoring each bite and each glance. The sounds of cutlery were gentle, almost ceremonial.
“This is amazing,” Susan said after a moment. “The food, I mean.”
Joseph smiled. “I’m glad.”
She looked up at him again. “No— actually mean it. All of it. The effort. The thought.”
“You deserve effort,” he replied simply.
She swallowed, her fingers tightening slightly around her fork. “You say things like that so easily.”
“That’s because I mean them,” he said.
Susan laughed softly. “You’re dangerous, you know that?”
Joseph leaned back slightly, amused. “Dangerous how?”
“Like… you make people feel seen,” she said. “There’s this aura around you. I can’t explain it.”
“Is that so?”
He studied her for a moment before continuing to talk. "I could say the opposite about you, that you have a safe energy around you."
Her eyes softened. “I do?”
“Yes,” he said. “Even when you’re nervous.”
She shook her head lightly. “I’m very nervous right now.”
“I know,” he replied with a smile. “I like that too.”
Susan laughed, covering her mouth briefly. “You’re unbelievable.”
“You haven’t even seen the half of it yet,” Joseph said lightly.
She raised an eyebrow. “Is that a threat?”
“More like a promise.”
They both laughed then, the sound carrying gently across the empty stadium, filling the space meant for thousands with something quieter, warmer, more intimate.
Susan rested her elbows lightly on the table. “So… what are your real intentions towards me?”
Joseph tilted his head, and repeated slowly. “My real intentions towards you.”
“Yes.”
“I want to make you my wife,” he responded confidently, taking a sip out of his cup of wine. “The mother of my kids.”
She coughed lightly almost choking on her food. “So this is one of your attempts to buy me off.”
“Is it working?” he replied teasingly.
She rolled her eyes playfully. “Maybe, I don't know.”
They continued eating, talking slowly, laughter weaving between sentences, the candles burning steadily as night fully settled around them— just two people, alone at the center of a massive field, enjoying each other without rush, without walls, without pretending.
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'BACK TO THE PRESENT DAY— MAGGIE'S POV'
The soft glow of early morning light filtered through the sheer curtains draped over the expansive wall window, washing Maggie’s opulent bedroom in a pale gold hue. The room was silent, heavy with luxury— polished marble floors, velvet furnishings, and a ceiling so high it made even breathing feel distant. Maggie lay flat on her back, staring up at the ceiling as if it might answer the questions already stirring in her mind.
Her eyes blinked slowly.
Once.
Twice.
Then she inhaled deeply and pushed herself upright. The silk sheets slid down her body as she stretched her arms above her head, her shoulders rolling back. A yawn escaped her lips— long, tired, unguarded. She reached to her right and flicked on the lamp sitting on her nightstand. The warm yellow light cut through the morning glow instantly, sharpening the room, grounding her.
She leaned forward and picked up her phone.
Her thumb moved instinctively, unlocking the screen. TikTok opened. Video after video scrolled by— laughter, music, strangers living lives that had nothing to do with hers. Her expression remained blank, her face unmoved, eyes following the screen without truly seeing it.
Then her thumb slowed.
Stopped.
Her brows pulled together.
In a flash, the images on her phone were replaced by memories— sharp and unwelcome.
Joseph’s face.
His eyes.
The tension in his jaw.
The way his voice had sounded when he confronted her about Susan just days ago.
Her phone slipped from her fingers and landed softly on the bed.
She whispered, her voice barely breaking the silence.
“Did he actually mean what he said that day?”
Her gaze drifted ahead, unfocused.
“That he prays I had nothing to do with those who attacked Susan?”
The room remained silent— but her mind did not.
“He sure as hell did.”
Maggie’s lips pressed together.
“Didn’t you see his facial expressions?” the voice in her head continued, sharp and confident. “When he was talking to you. That man wasn’t joking. He meant every single word he said.”
Her fingers curled into the bedsheets.
“What are you going to do about it?” she thought again, her voice softer this time, uncertain.
“I don’t know,” she whispered aloud, shaking her head slightly. “What should I do?”
There was no pause.
“Why don’t you just finish the job off and kill her?”