Chapter 167: Empty Home

Chapter 167: Empty Home
Nina’s POV
As Kevin pulled up outside my apartment building, I reached for the door handle. The world tilted suddenly, and I grabbed the seat to steady myself. My vision blurred at the edges. The streetlights outside became smeared halos of light.
"Nina?" Kevin's voice sounded distant, muffled, as if I were underwater.
Everything went black.
When I opened my eyes, harsh fluorescent lights made me squint. White walls surrounded me. The antiseptic smell of a hospital filled my nostrils. I tried to sit up, but my body felt heavy and disconnected, as if my limbs belonged to someone else. My head throbbed with a dull ache.
The door opened, and Kevin walked in carrying a tray. He looked relieved when he saw me awake, his expression softening in a way I hadn't seen before.
"You had a fever," he said, setting the tray carefully on the bedside table. "I brought you to the hospital last night. The doctor checked you out thoroughly. Nothing serious, just exhaustion and stress." He studied my face with genuine concern. "How are you feeling now?"
"I'm fine," I managed, though my throat felt raw and my mouth was dry.
Kevin moved the tray closer, revealing a sandwich cut into neat triangles and a tall glass of milk. Steam rose from a cup of tea beside them. "You need to build your strength back up. You haven't been eating properly. You should have something now."
"Thank you," I said, genuinely grateful despite everything. Despite the fact that he worked for a monster. Despite the fact that he was my jailer as much as my protector.
I took a small bite of the sandwich, chewing slowly as I watched him. He stood by the window, looking out at the gray New York morning. After a moment, I asked, "How long have you been working for Raymond?"
"About a year now," Kevin replied, turning back to face me.
"What do you think of him?"
Kevin hesitated, his jaw tightening slightly. "That's not really something I should discuss behind his back. He's my employer. He pays better than anyone I've worked for before. Much better, actually. And he's generous with bonuses."
"I can see that." I picked at the sandwich, pulling it apart. "You're not like Raymond, though. You're not a cold-blooded killer. I can tell. Why would you help someone like him do evil things? Just for a little extra money?"
"I've never helped him kill anyone," Kevin said quickly, almost defensively. "I want to make that clear. I'm just security. I'm here to keep you safe, to make sure nothing happens to you." He paused, then added, almost gently, "And honestly, Raymond actually treats you very well. Better than you might think. He never lacks for female company, trust me. But he's never brought another woman to his villa. Never. You're different to him."
I laughed bitterly, the sound harsh in the quiet hospital room. "Is that so?"
"You don't realize how lucky you are," Kevin continued, moving closer to the bed. "You really don't. You don't know how many women would trade places with you in a heartbeat. Women who would kill to have what you have."
I set down the sandwich and leaned forward slightly, adopting a playful tone. My voice dropped lower, softer. "Are you saying I'm not beautiful enough? That I don't deserve it?"
"Of course not," he said quickly, his eyes widening. "You're beautiful. Very attractive. That's not what I meant at all."
I moved closer to the edge of the bed, reaching up slowly to touch his lip with my fingertip. I traced it gently, feeling him tense under my touch. His breath caught.
Kevin froze completely, his eyes locked on mine. Then he stepped back abruptly, nearly stumbling.
I smiled innocently. "You had something on your lip. Just a crumb."
"Thanks," he said, his voice slightly strained, rougher than before. He cleared his throat. "I should go find the doctor. Get you checked again before discharge." He left quickly, almost fleeing.
Alone in the hospital room, a plan began forming in my mind. It was vague still, more feeling than strategy, but it was taking shape. Kevin would be crucial to my escape. He was the weak link in Raymond's chain. He hadn't known Raymond long enough to develop real loyalty, the kind that came from years of partnership or blood ties. And like so many men, he was susceptible to two fundamental weaknesses: greed and desire. Money and sex. The oldest currencies in the world. If I could exploit both carefully, strategically, I could make him do what I needed when the time came.
After finishing the hospital breakfast, washing it down with the now lukewarm tea, I noticed two missed calls on my phone. The area code was from Mississippi. Unknown numbers, so I ignored them initially. Probably spam or wrong numbers.
Two days later, after my fever broke completely and my voice returned to normal, no longer hoarse and scratchy, I tried calling Mom. The phone wouldn't connect at all.
Panic seized me, cold and immediate.
I immediately pulled up a travel website and booked a flight to Willowbend for the next morning. Then I called Raymond, my hands shaking as I held the phone. "I need to go home," I told him, trying desperately to keep the fear out of my voice. "Something's wrong with my mother. I can't reach her at all. Her phone isn't working."
Raymond controlled my movements completely. Every trip, every errand, every moment outside his designated safe zones required his explicit permission. Kevin had to accompany me everywhere, a constant shadow. Most of the time, Raymond refused to let me leave New York unless it was truly urgent, unless he deemed it necessary.
To my surprise, he agreed immediately. His tone was almost kind, almost human. "If your mother needs anything at all, call me directly. I'll do whatever I can to help. I mean that, Nina."
His unexpected generosity only deepened my unease. Raymond was never kind without reason.
The flight to Willowbend felt endless. Kevin sat beside me in the cramped airplane seat, professional and quiet, but I barely noticed him. My thoughts were consumed with worst-case scenarios. Had Mom gotten sick? Had she fallen? Had something terrible happened to her? Why wasn't her phone working? Why those missed calls from Mississippi numbers?
When we finally landed, I rushed through the small airport, barely waiting for our luggage. Kevin followed, carrying both bags. I drove straight to the apartment I'd bought for her, the one I'd furnished carefully, picking out everything she might need.
My hands shook as I unlocked the door.
The apartment was empty. Completely empty.
Not just empty of people. There wasn't even a trace of life. No furniture. No belongings. Nothing to suggest anyone had ever been here.
The afternoon light streamed through bare windows, illuminating nothing but dust motes dancing in the air.
"Mom?"