Chapter 53

Victor dropped right in front of Margaret, the force of the impact sending a chilling echo through the room. Margaret's breath hitched as she saw the blood starting to pool around him. Without hesitation, she rushed to his side, holding his hands tightly.

"Victor, please, open your eyes! Stay with me, please!" she begged, her voice trembling with desperation. She could see the life slowly fading from his eyes. Blood began to spill from his wound, spreading across the floor, the blood seeping from his wound, staining her hands.

Victor's breathing became labored, his eyes fluttering shut. "No, no, no!" Margaret cried, her tears mingling with the blood. "You can't leave me. Please, somebody, help! We need to get him to a hospital!"

The masked men stood motionless, watching her with cold indifference. Margaret's sobs grew louder, her pleas more frantic as she tried to stem the bleeding with her hands. "I promise I won't tell anyone anything. Please, let me take him to the hospital! He's dying! Please!" she cried, her voice breaking.

Victor's eyes closed, his body growing limp in her arms. Margaret's heart shattered as she watched the light leave his eyes. "No! Victor, stay with me!" she screamed, her voice echoing off the walls.

"Help! Someone, please, help!" she screamed, her voice raw and desperate, but there was no response. The room felt suffocatingly silent except for her cries.

One of the masked men began to laugh, a dark, menacing sound that sent chills down Margaret's spine. They started walking towards her, their laughter growing louder. Margaret's terror spiked, and she clutched Victor's body tighter, her sobs turning into screams.

"Please, no! Just leave us alone!" Margaret begged, her voice breaking. He tightened his grip around her arm, yanking her roughly across the room and dropping her onto the floor. Margaret's sobs grew louder as the men dragged her away from him. Margaret bent her head in fear, her tears streaming down her face as she continued to sob uncontrollably.

One of the masked men went into the bathroom. When he returned, he threw a black bathrobe to his partner, who bent down, raised Margaret's hands, and handed her the bathrobe. Margaret, her head still bowed and crying, felt utterly exhausted from the ordeal. She lifted her head, looking confused, trying to understand why they handed her the bathrobe. Margaret threw it away, then she looked down and realized she was naked and covered in blood.

Margaret immediately tried to cover herself with the shirt, her fingers fumbling with the fabric. The masked man picked up the cloth from the ground, and when Margaret began to push herself away from him, he stopped, seeing the horror in her eyes. He then threw the cloth back on the floor in front of her.

They stared at her coldly, their eyes unyielding behind their masks. Margaret looked up at them and, seeing the look on their faces, immediately stood up. She tried to remove her shirt, and the two masked men turned away. She glanced at them, confused, then quickly put on the bathrobe.

Margaret edged toward the table, her heart pounding as she glanced at the two masked men who had turned away from her. As she neared the bedside table, she noticed the lamp sitting there.

With trembling hands, she grabbed the lamp and, mustering all her remaining strength, swung it at the nearest masked man.

The lamp collided with the side of his head with a loud crash, and he let out a pained "Fuck!" as he staggered back, clutching his face.

Seizing the opportunity, Margaret swiftly lifted her foot and delivered a powerful kick to his crotch. He collapsed to the ground, writhing in agony, his muffled groans of pain echoing through the room.

Without looking back, Margaret bolted toward the door. Her breath came in ragged gasps as she scrambled to reach the exit. But as she reached for the door handle, she realized the keycard was missing. Andrew had taken it.

Her heart sank. She collapsed to the floor, her tears streaming down her face as she pounded on the door, shouting in desperation. "Help! Someone, please, help me! Please! Somebody, help us!"

Her cries echoed through the hallway, but there was no response. The silence was deafening, broken only by the muffled sounds of the man still groaning on the floor behind her and the other masked man's face twisted with anger and pain.

Margaret continued to bang on the door, her fists bruised and growing sore from the impact. "Please, somebody hear me!" she screamed, her voice breaking with despair. She threw herself against the door, her cries growing more frantic.

Suddenly, she felt a rough hand grip her shoulder and pull her away from the door. She spun around to see one of the masked men standing over her. He held a small black mask, and a sinister smile played on his lips.

Before Margaret could react, he pressed the mask against her nose. The sudden, sharp scent of chemicals filled her senses, and she began to feel dizzy. Her screams faltered into terrified gasps as she struggled to pull away, but her strength was rapidly fading.

"no! Someone help me!" she cried, her voice barely more than a whisper as she felt her consciousness slipping away. Her vision blurred, and the edges of her awareness started to darken as the effects of the gas took hold. Her eyes fluttered as she tried to stay awake, but the darkness overwhelmed her, and she lost consciousness.

The masked man carefully lifted her from the floor, his grip firm. He slung her over his shoulder, her head lolling slightly as her unconscious form hung there. The two masked men turned and walked out of the room. The one carrying Margaret led the way while the other followed behind, glancing back at the room to ensure everything was perfect.

Meanwhile, Alexander had just finished his meeting and was walking back to his office when he noticed a group of workers gathered, engrossed in a conversation. Curious, he approached them, catching snippets of their animated discussion. As he got closer, he heard one of the workers recounting a dramatic scene.

"And Mrs. Alfred just gave Miss Samantha a hot slap," the man said, his audience hanging on every word. "She staggered back, looking shocked. Then Mrs. Alfred said, and I quote, 'I'm married to Alexander, not you. Leave that for me to worry about and focus on your damn job.' And then she just walked away."

As Alexander stood there, processing the shocking news, one person turned and saw him. "Mr. Alexander, I'm so sorry!" he shouted. The exclamation caught everyone's attention, and the workers quickly dispersed, not wanting to be seen in the middle of any potential fallout. The apologetic man lingered behind, looking nervous.

Alexander fixed him with a stern gaze. "What exactly did you see?" he demanded.

The man swallowed hard and repeated what he saw, his hands shaking as he tried to control his fear.

Without another word, Alexander turned and walked away, his pace quick and his anger palpable. When he reached Samantha, he confronted her with fury in his eyes. "What the fuck did you say to my wife?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.