Alice clenched her jaw. "Unbelievable," she muttered.
Priscilla exhaled, her patience wearing thin. "Just do your job," she said flatly. And make sure you don’t fail if you want us both to survive."
Alice let out a short, bitter laugh.
"Us both?" she echoed mockingly. "Or you?"
"Let’s be real, Priscilla," Alice said coldly. "I have nothing to lose. But you? You have everything to lose. So do not go M-I-A on me again. I need someone to talk to in case things look a bit shaky here."
Priscilla let out a dry, amused snort. "You’re right," she admitted without hesitation. "I do have a lot to lose. No doubt about that."
For a second, Alice thought she had scored a point. But then—
"But I’m rich," Priscilla continued smoothly, her voice taunting. "Even if I go completely bankrupt, I have connections. It might take a year... maybe five. But I’d come back. People forget scandals. And if they don’t—" she laughed lightly, "—I could get plastic surgery. Change my name. Reinvent myself."
Alice’s stomach twisted.
Priscilla had thought this through. She had escape routes and backup plans, even though they all hoped it wouldn’t get to the point where she really had to use them.
Alice... did not. She had no main plans, much less backup plans.
"And you?" Pricillia’s voice turned sharp. "What happens to you if this all falls apart? Do you think you can just walk away?"
Alice’s mouth went dry.
"You’ll be thrown in jail." Pricillia’s tone was matter-of-fact, not cruel—just the truth.** "And your friend? Paula?" She let the name sink in. "She’s with me. She depends on me."
Alice’s pulse pounded in her ears.
"And Vivian?" Priscilla continued. "None of you know where she was taken to. Not even her parents know what hospital she’s in."
Silence stretched between them.
Alice wanted to fight back. To argue. But every word Pricillia had said landed like a knife in her gut.
So, who really had more to lose?
Priscilla didn’t need to say it. Alice already knew the answer.
Alice’s hands trembled as she gripped the phone. Hostage. That was precisely what this was.
"You’re holding them hostage," she spat, her voice laced with fury. "Paula, Vivian—you’re using them to control me!"
Priscilla chuckled, the sound cold and unimpressed. "And you discussed things with your little friend when I clearly told you not to. Don’t act innocent."
Alice clenched her jaw. She hated how calm Priscilla always sounded, how nothing seemed to shake her.
"Paula is staying with me," Priscilla continued, her voice smooth, almost amused. "She’s safe here. She’ll be well taken care of. And Vivian—" she let out a small sigh, "—well, that’s up to you, isn’t it?"
Alice’s breath was shallow. Rage burned in her chest, mixing with helplessness.
"Do your job, Aurora. Do it well." Pricillia’s voice dropped lower, colder. "All that money I’m paying you? Make sure it’s worth it. We just need to have a fine year together. After that, who knows? Maybe we’ll part ways like a happy little family."
Alice’s grip on the phone was so tight her fingers ached. Her neck was strained, and it looked like she had no blood on her face.
"You listen to me, Priscilla," she said, voice dangerously low. "If you so much as lay a hand on my friends—if you do anything to hurt them—" her fingers twitched, nails digging into her palm, "I will kill you before you ever get the chance for that plastic surgery."
For once, Priscilla was silent.
Alice didn’t wait for a response. She ended the call, her heart hammering.
When she sat back inside the car, she exhaled shakily, gripping the steering wheel for support.
How did Aurora survive under this woman? How did she wake up every morning and choose to stay with that manipulative witch?
But Alice couldn’t bring herself to feel too sorry for her twin.
Aurora had abandoned her for this woman. Maybe this was just karma.
Her head fell back on the steering wheel. Too many thoughts. She had too many thoughts running through her mind now.
But she hadn’t even had the time to think when a sudden jolt sent her body lurching backward.
A sharp thud. A collision.
Alice gasped in pain, snapping her head up. A car—a black car—had bumped directly into hers, only to reverse and create a reasonable distance.
Just wonderful. Exactly what she needed right now. But she had no time to dwell on frustration—this wasn’t even her car, and she couldn’t afford to pay for damages!
She quickly stepped out, wincing as the movement made her neck throb even more. Her fingers instinctively touched the sore spot.
The young driver emerged, dressed in a crisp formal suit.
While she inspected the front of the car for damages (and found a bump), the driver apologized. His tone was polite, even remorseful.
"Are you okay? I sincerely apologize."
He seemed genuinely guilty. But Alice’s eyes flicked around the road. There was enough space. He could have driven past easily. The street wasn’t crowded. So, how had he managed to hit a stationary car?
Had he not seen her? Was this on purpose? Or... was she overthinking it?
"Could you not have taken somewhere else!?" She snapped at him.
All the frustration from today was making her feel very irritated. And now she had to worry about this stupid car, too. She wanted to just burst into tears, but she would be crazy if she did.
The young man apologized again, bowing his head.
Just then, the back door of the black car opened, and a man stepped out.
Young. Good-looking. Dressed as impeccably as the driver.
But what caught her attention was the way he carried himself. Effortless confidence. The quiet command in his stance. He oozed wealth. Privilege. Power.
And for some reason, Alice’s stomach twisted. Was it nerves? Or was she just letting paranoia get the better of her?