Lady Warrior's Warth on Divorce Day novel Chapter 127

Chapter 127

From the phone came a voice distorted by a voice changer. “Murderer… Jasmine, you’re a murderer. Did you really think no one knows what you did? Many people know. And now, I’m going to deliver the evidence to the studio. Everyone will know you’re no firefighting hero at all…”

Jasmine’s fingers shook so hard she nearly fumbled her phone to the floor.

“Who… Who are you? I don’t understand what you’re talking about!” Jasmine stammered, her voice unsteady.

The voice replied coldly, “Whether you understand or not doesn’t matter. What matters is that everyone will soon know the truth, that you’re no hero.” Then the line went dead.

Panic shot through Jasmine’s chest like ice water. If the caller really had evidence…

‘No way, I can’t let them get that stuff in front of everyone,‘ she thought.

With that thought jolting her into action, Jasmine rushed out of the lounge, only to have a baseball bat come out of nowhere, swinging viciously for her head.

She stumbled forward, fighting desperately to twist around, tried to shout for help, tried to see who was attacking her.

All she glimpsed before everything went dark was a horrifying, snarling mask.

*****

During the interview show’s break, Wren walked straight up to Zoya. “Once this episode drops, the whole world will know we’re a thing. You really don’t regret it?”

“Regret it? Not a chance,” Zoya said with a teasing smile. She’d never planned to keep them a secret. “Or is it you who’s not cool with going public?”

“Hell no,” Wren replied instantly.

He couldn’t wait for the whole world to know Zoya was his girlfriend, that she had chosen him, cutting off anyone else’s covetous thoughts. Especially Harvey.

To Wren, Harvey was always the biggest threat. Harvey had known Zoya way before he did, and they’d even served together in the military. For Zoya, Harvey was the kind of guy she’d trust with her life if things got dangerous.

With a guy like that hanging around, Wren could not feel relaxed.

So, Wren was set on letting the world know Zoya belonged to him.

He came here today fully expecting the show to go after the hottest gossip, and yeah, they’d for sure ask about him and Zoya.

The only wild card was how Zoya would answer when that question finally dropped.

Zoya had no idea just how over the moon Wren was when she said they were together.

Wren bent down, his words barely above a whisper in her ear. “Zozo, I can’t tell you how happy I am that you let everyone know about us.”

Zoya’s ears burned as she suddenly realized everyone’s eyes were on them.

Just then, Nicolas stormed over and demanded, “Where’s Jasmine?”

“What?” Zoya blinked, totally thrown off.

Wren straightened up, shooting Nicolas a frosty glare.

When Nicolas tried to take another step forward, Wren stopped him with a firm arm. “What, you want me to break your other arm too?”

Nicolas felt a chill run down his back and instinctively stepped away, though his glare at Zoya was pure hate. “You’d better hand Jasmine over.”

“I seriously have no idea what you’re on about. I’ve been filming this whole time. I don’t have the ability to be in two places at once.” Zoya retorted.

“You’ve been here, sure. But what’s to stop you from hiring someone else to do it?” Nicolas shot back, raising the phone in his hand. “This is Jasmine’s phone. It was found right outside the dressing room. But she’s gone!”

He continued, “And the last call she got was from an unknown number. I tried calling it, but no one answered! Zoya, even if you don’t like Jasmine, kidnapping her is way over the line. You’d better get her back here, and fast.”

As he talked, Nicolas kept glaring at Zoya.

She replied coldly, “You should be talking to the police, not me. And if you accuse me without evidence, I can sue you for defamation. Also, tell me. Why would I hate Jasmine?”

“You obviously hate her…” Nicolas began, but Zoya didn’t let him finish.

“Because she was the other woman?” Zoya interrupted icily. “Because she wrecked our marriage? Or because during our marriage, you showered her with money and luxury, while your wife got a 70–dollar street stall ring as a wedding band, and Jasmine got jewelry worth 15 million dollars?”

As soon as Zoya dropped that bombshell, everyone stared with wide eyes.

People who’d never known about Zoya and Nicolas’s past suddenly started shooting him looks reserved for heartless exes.

‘So the hero’s fiancé’s not a good guy after all?‘ someone thought.

‘And the hero’s co–pilot? Turns out she’s just the mistress!‘ another person thought.

Zoya continued, “Nicolas, I don’t hate Jasmine. Hate is too strong an emotion, and she’s not worth it. But I do thank her. Thanks to her, I finally saw who you really are. Thanks to her, I ended three years of wasted

marriage.”

Nicolas looked cornered, his face flushed. “In Marabotara, who else could possibly want to kidnap her or take Jasmine down besides you?”

As far as he was concerned, Zoya was the only one with a bone to pick with Jasmine.

And now, with Wren backing her up, all Zoya had to do was snap her fingers. She wouldn’t even have to get her own hands dirty.

“Who knows? Go file a report and let the police investigate properly,” Zoya replied coolly.

Suddenly, the huge screen at the front of the studio snapped on, the boring screensaver replaced by footage of a chaotic, rundown space. It looked just like an abandoned factory.

And there, in the center of the frame, was Jasmine.

She was tied up, lying on the dusty floor.

Suddenly, a hand slapped her across the face hard. The impact jolted her awake.

Her eyes were hazy and disoriented, but panic hit fast. She screamed, “Who are you? Why did you bring me here? Let me go!”

On screen, the kidnapper finally stepped into view. He was skinny, kind of short, definitely a guy, wearing a creepy mask.

“Why?” he said, his voice deliberately altered. “To take your life, of course. Firefighting hero, huh? What a joke. You’re a murderer who let people die. But now, you are worshiped as a national hero. Isn’t that hilarious?”

Jasmine struggled frantically against the ropes, panic making her movements desperate. She shouted, “I’m not a killer, you’ve got this all wrong. Please, there must be some mistake!”

“A mistake, huh?” The kidnapper sneered, then hit play on a voice memo. “Don’t… don’t leave. Jasmine, hurry, get the fire extinguisher! I’m burning up. Hurry… please hurry…”

Buried in the mayhem, a man’s raspy voice cracked through, screaming for his life.

And as the recording played, all color drained from Jasmine’s face.