Another Wednesday.
The sky was overcast, a low blanket of clouds pressing down, the air thick with a damp, impending rain that refused to fall.
The Winters' black sedan pulled up right on time in front of the familiar Upper East Side apartment building. Vivian—now Amelia—stepped out, arms laden with a stack of books and notes. Katherine had another one of her "headaches" today, sending a maid to cancel their session.
The driver, George, a decent man in his fifties who'd been with the Winters family for twenty years, came around to open the door for her. As he did, his cell phone buzzed urgently in his pocket.
"One moment, Miss," George apologized with a quick smile, stepping aside to take the call.
Vivian waited by the building entrance, catching fragments of George's hushed, troubled voice. "...Now? But I just dropped the young miss at her lesson... Yes, I know... But the round trip would take over two hours. What about when her class ends?... The house is sending another car? It's already on the way? Well... alright then. I'll head to Long Island right now."
He ended the call and hurried back, his face a mix of sincere apology and faint unease.
"Miss, I'm terribly sorry. There's an urgent matter at the house. I need to go to Long Island immediately to fetch some important documents." He wrung his hands slightly. "It's quite a drive, I'm afraid I won't make it back in time to pick you up after your lesson. But the steward assured me another car has already been dispatched for you. It should be here on time. Would you mind waiting inside the building for a bit after class?"
Vivian nodded. "It's fine, George. You go ahead. Drive safely."
"Ah, thank you for understanding, Miss," George said, relieved, but couldn't help adding, "Please wait inside the building after class. Don't walk off on your own. Come down only when the car arrives."
"Alright, I will."
Watching George's car drive away, Vivian turned and entered the apartment building. The hallway was its usual quiet self, only the echo of her own footsteps accompanying her. For no particular reason, a thread of unease, fine as a spider's silk and just as easily snapped, brushed against her heart.
Maybe it's just the weather, she thought, shaking her head slightly before pressing the buzzer for the fourth floor.
The three-hour lesson was intense and absorbing. Professor Howard was dissecting fraud and fundamental mistake in contract law today, the case studies intricately linked. Vivian was so engrossed she almost lost track of time, only realizing how late it was when the professor closed his notes and dismissed the class.
Outside, the sky had darkened completely. The rain still held off, but the clouds had grown heavier. She checked her watch: 1:10 PM. Usually, George's car would already be waiting downstairs by now.
She packed her things and bid the professor goodbye.
"Amelia," Professor Howard called out, offering a rare bit of personal concern. "Nasty weather today. Head home early. Be careful."
"Thank you, Professor. You should get some rest too."
As she descended the stairs, that flicker of unease returned. The entrance to the apartment building was empty. No familiar black sedan in sight.
Following George's advice, she went back inside and settled on the worn sofa in the first-floor lobby to wait. Minutes ticked by. 1:20... 1:30... Still no car.
Maybe it's held up by something? She took out her phone to call home, but the signal here was weak—a few attempts failed to connect. Probably the old building's fault.
Around 1:45, she decided against just waiting. She walked to the entrance to look out. Just then, a dark gray sedan slid silently to the curb. It was a different make and color from the Winters' fleet. A man in a standard driver's uniform got out from behind the wheel. He looked to be in his thirties, with an unremarkable, forgettable face.
"Miss Amelia Winters?" the man approached, his tone respectful but oddly stiff.
"That's me." Vivian eyed him warily. "Are you from the Winters household?"
"Yes, Miss. My apologies for the delay. The car had a minor issue before departure, it took some time to fix." The man explained, opening the rear door. "Madam is quite worried. Please, get in."
Vivian hesitated. The car trouble excuse was plausible. The man wore a uniform. But she didn't recognize this driver, nor had she ever seen this vehicle before.
Perhaps sensing her hesitation, the man added, "Miss, Madam was very insistent about your safe return. The wind is picking up. Please, get in. Don't catch a chill."
The evening breeze did carry a bite. Looking at the man's deferential posture and the car idling at the curb, Vivian finally suppressed her doubts. Maybe it really was a backup vehicle and a newly assigned driver. She didn't keep track of the household's car arrangements.
"Thank you," she nodded and got in.
Inside the car, there was a faint scent, something like air freshener—cloyingly sweet with an underlying, peculiar herbal note. The seats were leather, but the texture felt cheap. The driver started the car in silence and merged into traffic.
Vivian leaned back in her seat, rubbing her slightly aching temples, intending to rest her eyes for a moment. That sweet, cloying smell seemed to grow stronger, making her feel a bit dizzy. At first, she thought it was motion sickness, but then an overwhelming drowsiness crashed over her. Her eyelids grew impossibly heavy, her limbs rapidly turning to lead.
No... this smell...
A sudden realization dawned. She tried to reach for the door handle, but her fingers wouldn't obey. Her vision began to blur, to spin, then plunged into a deep, bottomless darkness.
In the last moment before losing consciousness, she faintly registered the car turning onto a bumpy road. The lights outside the window vanished.
Roughly ten minutes after her car left, a familiar black Winters sedan pulled up to the apartment building. The driver looked puzzled at the empty entrance, got out to ask the doorman, then went upstairs to knock on Professor Howard's door.
***
Winters Mansion, dinner time.
The long table was laden with food, but the atmosphere was strained. Old William sat at the head, Matthew to his right. Margaret and Katherine sat opposite. Amelia's seat was empty.
"Amelia isn't back yet?" Old William glanced at the mantel clock. It was already 7:30 PM.
Margaret managed to look appropriately concerned. "No, William. She should have been back from her lesson hours ago. We sent a car for her this afternoon... Carlsen, has the car sent for the young miss returned? Have you reached the driver?"
Steward Carlsen gave a slight bow, his brow furrowed. "Sir, Madam. The situation is somewhat... puzzling. The car dispatched to fetch Miss Amelia has returned. The driver reports that due to a sudden vehicle malfunction, he was delayed by half an hour. When he arrived at the professor's building—around 1:40 PM—the young miss was no longer there. He inquired with the doorman and the professor's housemaid. Neither saw her. The young miss's phone... is also switched off. It goes straight to voicemail."
"Switched off? Gone?" Old William set down his fork and knife. "Call Professor Howard."
The call was quickly put through. Professor Howard confirmed the driver's account, his voice laced with clear anxiety. "William, Amelia did leave here around 1:10 PM. My maid, Mary, mentioned she saw from the kitchen window around 1:20 that Amelia got into a dark gray car at the curb. Not one of your usual vehicles. She assumed it was another car from your household and thought nothing of it. What do you mean, Amelia isn't home yet? It's been over six hours!"
"Got into an unfamiliar dark gray car?" Old William's voice dropped, his gaze sharpening as it landed on Margaret. "Exactly how many cars did you send? What is this gray car business?"
Margaret paled. "William, I only sent the one car! The one that arrived later! Because George was sent to Long Island on short notice, I arranged for a backup car and driver to fetch Amelia! That gray car... I have no idea what that's about! Amelia... why would she get into a stranger's car?"
Katherine chose that moment to look suitably horrified. "Oh my god, Sister... she couldn't have... met with foul play, could she? Or..." She glanced at her mother, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Sister has seemed rather troubled lately, maybe she..."
"Katherine! Don't speculate wildly!" Margaret snapped, but her voice trembled. She turned back to Old William, tears welling up. "William, what do we do? If anything happens to Amelia... We must call the police immediately! And have everyone start looking!"
Professor Howard, still on the line and hearing this, said gravely, "William, this must be taken seriously. I'll ask around the neighborhood myself, see if anyone noticed that gray car. I'll contact you the moment I hear anything."
Even the professor was alarmed and had confirmed Amelia entered an unknown vehicle. Old William's face turned thunderous. Phone off. In an unaccounted-for car. This was no minor incident.
"Carlsen, contact the police immediately. Provide the possible description of that gray car and the time the professor's maid saw it. Matthew, use all our connections. Find that gray sedan. Check the city's traffic cameras! Margaret, you handle things here. Keep in touch with the police and the professor." Old William issued rapid orders, his voice brooking no argument, heavy with suppressed fury.
"Yes, Father," Matthew said, immediately rising from the table.
A palpable tension and panic instantly gripped the dining room. The servants held their breath. Katherine, seeing the flicker of genuine anxiety in her mother's eyes, felt a sudden spike of fear herself—what if something truly serious had happened to Amelia, something far beyond the "bit of a scare and a tarnished reputation" her mother had planned?
***
Somewhere on the outskirts of New York, in a darkened, standalone house, Vivian slowly came to on a cold, old bed.
Her head throbbed viciously. Her throat was parched. Pitch blackness surrounded her, only a sliver of pale moonlight from the window revealing an empty, dust-covered room.
She tried to move. Her hands and feet weren't tied, but her whole body felt weak and sore. Her handbag, books, phone... all gone.
Outside the window was an unfamiliar, desolate view. The distant sound of highway traffic only made the silence here feel more profound.
Pushing herself up, she leaned against the icy wall, forcing herself to stay calm.
This wasn't an accident. But it might not be solely Margaret and Katherine's doing either. That gray car, that strange driver... if it *was* their scheme, it seemed far too risky and bold. And how would they ensure their own alibi? If not them, then who? Her ex-husband, Liam? Or some other enemy she didn't yet know?
A whirlwind of thoughts raced through her mind, but they were all pushed aside by one more pressing, more urgent thought: *Get out.*
Whoever was behind this, the priority was to escape this place, to get back to the light.
She began to examine the room carefully, searching for any possible tool or clue. The shifting moonlight illuminated a discarded, rusty metal coat stand in the corner, and an old wooden door that didn't look very sturdy.
Outside the door, dead silence.
She took a deep breath, fighting the headache and dizziness, and slipped off the bed. Her bare feet touched the cold, dusty floorboards. She moved as quietly as she could.
The night was deep. And her fight for survival, alone and unaided in the darkness, had already begun.