Contract Marriage with My Secret Partner in Crime-Chapter 48: Protect, Not Stalk

The moment Reynold stepped out of Air Media’s sleek glass doors, he didn’t waste a second. His steps were quick, and his fingers moved even faster as he pulled out his phone and dialed Jeric Ian.

"Jeric," Reynold’s tone was sharp and urgent. "Where are the men I asked for? I need them now. Bring them to the office. I’ll be there in ten."

"Yes, sir. I’ll bring them right over," Jeric replied without hesitation.

Reynold ended the call, slipped into his black SUV, and leaned back in the seat as the driver sped off toward his office. His mind was already racing ahead.

When he arrived at his office, Jeric was already waiting inside with five men standing in formation behind him. They looked exactly how Reynold had hoped — tough, serious, and alert.

The first man was tall with a shaved head and a square jaw, arms crossed, eyes scanning the room. The second wore a tailored suit, but his stance screamed military discipline. The third had a faint scar under one eye, lean but muscular. The fourth looked younger, but his eyes were focused and unreadable. The last one, slightly older than the rest, stood with his hands behind his back, calm and composed.

Reynold closed the door behind him and stepped closer, scrutinizing each man in silence. He observed the way they stood, how they carried themselves. Satisfied, he turned to Jeric.

"Did you brief them about their work?"

Jeric nodded. "Yes. I already told them everything. You can trust them, Reynold. These men have worked with us on several investigations over the years. They know how to move without being seen. They’re discreet, and loyal."

Reynold turned back to the five men.

"Your new assignment is my sister, Zephany Draven," he said firmly. "From now on, she’s your responsibility. But listen closely — she must never know you’re watching. Keep your distance. Don’t invade her privacy. Don’t take pictures. Don’t report where she goes unless it’s something out of the ordinary. Your job is to protect her, not stalk her."

He paused, eyes narrowing.

"If I find out you crossed that line, I’ll remove you myself. Understood?" frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓

The five men nodded in unison.

"Yes, sir," they replied, voices strong and disciplined.

"Good," Reynold said. "Now go. Do your job."

They gave one last nod before turning and leaving the office quietly.

Jeric looked at Reynold, waiting for further instructions.

"You can go too, Jeric," Reynold said, his voice softer. "Thanks."

Jeric gave a small nod, then left as well, leaving Reynold alone in the quiet office.

He stood still for a moment, then slowly sat down at his desk. His fingers curled into a fist, knuckles white. Memories he’d buried clawed their way back.

Twelve years ago.

Zephany was only thirteen.

Reynold remembered the grand hall, the buzz of the crowd, and the soft music filling the room. She walked onto the stage, young but confident. Her long, dark wavy hair shimmered under the lights. Emerald-green eyes focused on the piano before her. She wore a navy-blue gown that complimented her delicate frame, making her look every bit like a young star.

She sat down, her back straight, hands poised. The moment her fingers touched the keys, the audience fell into a hush. The melody flowed, delicate yet powerful, captivating everyone.

Reynold sat among the crowd, chest swelling with pride. That was his sister.

He wanted to surprise her. As she played her final note, he slipped out the back, phone already in hand.

He called the driver.

"Let’s go buy my sister’s favorite cake. That blueberry cheesecake from Nelia’s," he said, grinning. "She deserves it."

The driver nodded. "Right away, sir."

They arrived at Nelia’s just seven minutes later. To Reynold’s surprise, the usually long line was short today.

"Lucky day," he muttered, stepping out of the car.

The shop was famous — people lined up for hours just to get a slice. But today, he was only fifth.

As he took his place in line, he pulled out his phone and called her.

"Zeph," he said, calm but firm. "Something came up. We’ll be a few minutes late. Stay at the entrance and don’t go anywhere."

"Alright," she replied softly.

He smiled and ended the call. He couldn’t wait to see her reaction.

When it was finally his turn, he bought the cake, tucked it carefully in the box, and got into the car again.

"Let’s go get my sister. She’s waiting at the entrance."

But when they got back, she wasn’t there.

He stepped out, eyes scanning the area.

"Zeph?" he called out, confused.

Then he saw it. Her phone. On the ground.

Panic slammed into him.

"What the hell—? Why is her phone here? Did something happen?"

He ran forward, shouting.

"Zephany! Zeph! Where are you, sister?"

He turned to the driver.

"Go! Ask for help. Now!"

The driver nodded and rushed toward the building staff.

"There are CCTV cameras," he called back. "I’ll ask them to check the footage!"

Reynold ran after him.

They were taken to a small security room where the staff rewound the footage.

But there was nothing.

No footage of her leaving, no footage of anyone approaching her.

Just a blank stretch of time.

Reynold stood in front of the monitors, stunned.

"No... No, no, no..." he whispered. "This can’t be."

He fumbled with his phone and called his father.

"D-Dad!" His voice broke. "Zephany! Zeph! She’s missing!"

Soren’s voice on the other end was immediately alert.

"Don’t panic, son. Just breathe. Calm down. Where are you?"

"Outside the venue... I was only gone for fifteen minutes!"

"I’ll handle it. Don’t go anywhere. And don’t tell your mom yet, you know her heart. I’ll look for your sister. Stay put, Reynold. I’ll come to you."

Reynold stayed there, eyes fixed on the blank screens, his breathing shallow.

Hours passed. Every second felt like a lifetime.

Then his phone rang.

A hospital.

His stomach dropped.

"Yes, this is Reynold Draven," he said quickly. "Yes. She’s my sister."

He listened, barely able to breathe. She was alive. She was at the hospital. Unconscious.

He ran out of the building, heart pounding, cake box still in hand.

He never got to give it to her.

And that guilt had never left.