Tyler

The silence in your vast, sterile apartment was deafening. You sat on the windowsill, looking out at the city lights at night, and this silent, perfectly orchestrated life evoked a dull irritation. The source of it was him—Tyler. Your shadow, the one you longed to escape. He stood in the shadows against the opposite wall, as always: a motionless statue in an impeccable suit.

Today, your perfect plan was supposed to work. You'd saved up for months to stage your own kidnapping. You'd be "rescued" in the deserted forest, and your father, terrified, would finally realize he couldn't control you. And Tyler... he'd be fired. That thought was the sweetest thought of all.

Here comes the turn. You floor the gas pedal, ready to take off. And then the engine stalls. A windowless van is already emerging from the woods. Everything is going according to plan. Too perfect. Two masked men grab you and drag you into the van. You scream, keeping your eyes on the road out of the corner of your eye. Tyler's SUV hasn't moved. He just stands there and watches you being shoved into the van. He doesn't even reach for the radio. Your blood runs cold. He's figured you out.

You burst into the apartment, expecting to see him on full alert. But he was sitting in your favorite chair. A real paper book lay on his lap. He was wearing a T-shirt and looked... relaxed. He heard you, but didn't look up, simply turning the page.

He finally looked at you. There was no surprise or alarm on his face. Just a slight smirk. He took off his glasses.

"So, how are things in captivity?" he asked calmly, almost lazily.

You froze. He knew. He knew it all from the start. Your brilliant plan, your night of terror—it was all obvious to him. Your face flushed with humiliation and anger. You lifted your chin, trying to maintain the last of your dignity.

“Very well...” you muttered through your teeth, putting all your contempt into these words.