---
"Let me tell you about your mission."
"Mission?" I asked, puzzled.
"Yes."
A big screen was pulled down right across from me.
"Look," he said.
And I saw profiles… on profiles.
Profiles of men.
He pressed on one.
"This is Richard Hale.
Age 42.
He's a rising star in this industry."
What industry? echoed in my mind.
"He's single, no kids, net worth: 15 million USD."
"This is"
He switched to another profile.
"Michael Walters.
Age 48.
Married with two children.
Net worth: 50 million USD."
"What has all this got to do with me?" I asked.
"Hold on, Ayra. Pay attention. Questions can come later."
He clicked again.
"Now, here we have the biggest fish in the industry…"
"Ethan Cross.
Age 34.
Married, no kids.
Net worth: 120 million USD."
"There are still many others…"
He paused briefly.
"That you would go after before going after these ones. For they are very dangerous."
"Go after them?" I asked, confused.
"Hunt them," he said.
My brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"
"You get close enough for them to trust you," he replied calmly.
"And give me the information I need… then we handle the rest."
A slight pause.
"This doesn't make sense, Kelvin…"
"It would… if you agree to do it."
I shook my head slightly, trying to process everything.
"This could change your life, Ayra."
"But I don't even know how to do that," I said, my voice almost breaking.
"I would melt like jelly if one of those men comes close to me…"
"We would train you."
The way he said it… so simple… like it was nothing.
"Can I think about it?" I asked.
"Sure."
A pause.
"But you need to think about it fast. I don't have much patience."
The words settled heavily in the air.
I slowly stood up.
My legs felt… strange. Like they didn't fully belong to me anymore.
I turned and began to walk out.
"Ayra."
I stopped.
Turned back.
He was watching me.
Calm.
Unreadable.
"This could change your life… for good."
---
It had been a week since that conversation with Kelvin.
I had decided. I wasn't doing it.
I'm not cut out for such a dangerous mission. A life like that… it would mean putting myself in ways I wasn't ready for, risking everything, my body, my mind, my soul.
Nah. It's not for me, I thought as I tried to sleep it off.
But sleep didn't save me.
I woke up early the next morning, hoping a jog would clear my head. I passed my mom's room, and as my leg brushed against her arm… I froze.
It was hot. Burning.
I half-screamed. My heart sank. I bent closer and pressed my hand to her forehead.
Her skin was scorching. Her face flushed crimson.
Mom.
I called her name. No response.
I shook her gently. Still nothing.
I panicked. Fever had claimed her strength, and she had fallen unconscious.
My hands shook as I grabbed my phone, trying to call for help. No one answered. My mind raced.
I managed to flag down a cab, cradling her fragile body in my arms, and rushed her to the hospital.
The emergency room was bright, sterile, and cold. Doctors and nurses rushed past me, their movements sharp and purposeful.
"She's burning up! Please, help her!" I cried, my voice cracking.
A nurse took my mother from my arms and laid her on a stretcher.
"What happened? How long has she been like this?" one of the doctors asked, his tone urgent but calm.
I swallowed hard. "I, I don't know. This morning, I… I just noticed her… the fever… she's been burning up, and she, she just collapsed."
The doctor's eyebrows knit. "You've been waiting until now to bring her in?"
My stomach twisted. "I… I didn't think it would get this bad…"
"You should be ashamed," another doctor said sharply, cutting through the panic. "Your mother is your responsibility. How are you not able to take care of her?"
My hands trembled. Heat rose to my face, shame burning hotter than the fever I'd just felt.
They ran tests, bloodwork, ECG, echocardiograms, scans. Every result seemed to push my heart further into my throat.
Finally, the head doctor looked at me with grave eyes.
"Miss… your mother has acute myocarditis. It's a serious inflammation of the heart muscle. She's lucky you brought her when you did. If we hadn't caught it now…" His voice trailed off.
I felt my knees weaken. "What… what does that mean? Will she—"
"She needs immediate treatment. IV medications, continuous monitoring, possible cardiac support. This is going to be very expensive. Hundreds of thousands at least."
I swallowed hard, tears streaming down my face. "I… I don't… I can't afford that…"
"You have to act fast," the doctor said firmly. "Every minute counts. You cannot wait any longer."
I buried my face in my hands.