Marienne exited the hotel and winced as the cold drizzle brushed against her face. She had completely forgotten to bring an umbrella, and the realization that her blazer was still in the hotel room only deepened the frown on her forehead. Wrapping her arms around her shoulders in a futile attempt to ward off the chill, she glanced around, as if expecting someone to emerge from the shadows.
Yet, the street remained empty.
Sighing, she reached into her purse for her phone, but before her fingers could grasp it, a heavy hand pressed down on her shoulder. Marienne flinched, a startled cry nearly escaping her lips.
"Jesus, Seb!" she hissed, recoiling as the pungent stench of cigarette smoke assaulted her nostrils. She coughed and waved a hand in front of her face. "How many times do I have to tell you not to smoke these nasty things near me? The smell clings to my clothes––it's impossible to get rid of afterward!"
Seb scoffed, deliberately blowing another cloud of smoke in her direction, clearly enjoying her discomfort.
"Let's take a walk," he said, his voice cold and emotionless as he pulled her closer under his wide black umbrella.
Marienne groaned, glancing down at her designer heels already soaking up the damp pavement. "Ugh, I'd rather not walk right now. My shoes are getting ruined!"
Seb's grip on her shoulder tightened, the pressure almost bruising. The threat was subtle, but clear. Marienne sighed.
"You don't have to be so crude all the time," she muttered with a pout.
He let out a dark chuckle, inhaling deeply from his black, thin cigarette. "Was everything set up properly up there?"
"Yes," Marienne replied gruffly, cringing as a speeding car sent a wave of dirty puddle water dangerously close to her feet. The cold drizzle clung to her skin, seeping through her thin blouse, but she barely seemed to notice. "It will look like an accident—a very tragic one."
"Oh?" The man beside her raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "I thought we settled on a suicide."
"Yes, well... I had a change of heart," she said with a sly smirk.
The man chuckled darkly, taking a slow drag from his cigarette before exhaling a thick cloud of bitter smoke. "Your wicked mind never ceases to impress me. So, tell me, what twisted little plan have you cooked up this time?"
Marienne's lips curled into a devilish grin. "A whole goddamn theatrical performance."
They turned the corner, slipping into the dimly lit courtyard of an old apartment complex, where shadows clung to the crumbling walls like ghosts of forgotten tenants. The rain pattered softly against the cracked pavement, masking their hushed conversation.
"I slipped something into her drink first," Marienne began, her voice low and dripping with satisfaction. "Something that would make her body heavy and her mind foggy. Then, with the help of your contacts, I hired a few... unsavory men to have their fun with her. But that wasn't enough. I told them to pour acid on her face—to make her blind."
The man's eyes widened in surprise, his thick black eyebrows arching as he stared at her in disbelief. "What the hell would you do that for?"
Marienne shrugged, feigning innocence. "I read about a similar case once. Two men assaulted a woman, but to prevent her from identifying them, they blinded her. It was brutal, but effective. When the police find Anna's body, they'll assume it was a random attack—another poor soul who crossed paths with the wrong men. No one will ever suspect me."
The man chuckled, patting Marienne's head as if she were a well-trained pet. "I had no idea I raised such a cruel girl," he cooed, his voice dripping with mock sweetness. "But I don't care about your methods. I want results. She has to be dead."
He leaned in, tilting the edge of the umbrella just enough for cold raindrops to splatter onto Marienne's face. She winced, trying to recoil, but the man's hand shot out, gripping the back of her head and yanking her closer until their faces were mere inches apart.
"Your debt keeps growing, Mary. So, make sure I get my money—soon."
"I will. Don't worry," Marienne hissed through gritted teeth.
"I'll take your word for it, then."
With a forceful shove, he pushed her out from beneath the umbrella and into the relentless downpour. Marienne stumbled, rain soaking her hair and seeping into her clothes. The man lit another cigarette, inhaling deeply before flashing her a wicked grin, the cigarette still clenched between his teeth.
"Call me when she's dead. And don't linger in the rain too long. Your pretty blonde hair always turns into a mop when wet."
With a casual jerk of his chin, he turned and sauntered away, leaving behind nothing but the acrid sting of cigarette smoke hanging in the air.
Marienne clenched her fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms as frustration burned through her veins.
What a complete jerk! she fumed internally. I know he helped me a lot, but if I'd known the price I'd have to pay for his help, I'd never have accepted it in the first place!
Plunging her damp hands into her purse, Marienne fumbled for her phone. The cold, wet touch of her fingers made the screen stubbornly unresponsive, further fueling her irritation.
After a few frustrating attempts, the phone finally rang, the dial tone offering her a fleeting moment of relief.
"Michael," she snapped, her voice dripping with venom, "bring the car to the Dahlia apartment complex. Now."
"Sure thing, Miss," came the calm, almost indifferent reply from the other end.
Marienne ended the call with a sharp tap and tossed the phone back into her purse. Her frustration simmered beneath the surface as she turned to face the towering Diamond Hotel. Her gaze fixated on a dimly lit window on the tenth floor, her eyes narrowing with cold determination.
"You'd better be dead by morning," she muttered under her breath. "I'm so done with this shit."