Author's POV

A year ago

"Wilfred?"

"Yes, ma'am?" her chauffeur replied, his eyes expertly fixed on the road.

"What do you think when you see this shade of colour?" She propped a shopping bag on her laps, pulling on a part of an evening gown folded neatly in the bag towards Wilfred. He mentally rolled his eyes. Why she usually asked his take on topics of fashion he would never understand. He glanced at the dress for a second before returning his eyes to the road.

"That's peach, right?" Wilfred asked to be exact.

"Of course, it is," Madam Veronica replied with an obvious eye roll.

"Just wanted to be accurate, ma'am. The colour looks warm and respectful. It's quite a mature hue, very suitable to sophisticated people," he concluded, his explanation almost as explicit as that of a fashion designer. Madam Veronica was very impressed with his answer.

"Wow, such wise words. I should probably take you with me when I go shopping for lingerie later. You have quite an exquisite discernment."

"Hard pass, ma'am. I'm afraid I will have to decline on your request."

Madam Veronica's chuckle filled the car immediately. Minutes later, silence reigned again as the chief occupant got busy on her phone and Wilfred minded his driving squarely. The car was passing by a dark lane when suddenly a loud scream was released into the air.

"What was that?" Madam Veronica enquired, her curiosity piqued.

"It can't be anything good. I have to get you out of this vicinity, ma'am, right now." He stiffened and started swiveling the car around.

"No!" she ordered, "That person might need my help. We absolutely cannot just walk away! Well, I know I can't because I have a conscience. Now, stop this car!"

Wilfred brought the car to a stop eventually. He felt scolded by her words and they ate at him sharply. He was not happy with her decision but he could not question her orders no matter how lenient she was to him. He was just the chauffeur and he would never forget his place. If anything sinister happened, he would be glad to die with a pure-hearted woman as Madam Veronica.

"What do we do now, ma'am?"

She heaved breaths in and out, trying to think up something. Meanwhile, another scream erupted, filling the atmosphere with apprehension. Madam Veronica cringed in panic but refused to run away like a scaredy cat.

"Wilfred...do you have a gun?"

Wilfred hesitated briefly, avoiding her eyes for a while before nodding in the affirmative.

"Good. Now give it to me."

Wilfred's jaw fell open in a rare, surprised way.

"Ma'am! You don't know how to use a gun. I better come with you so I can do any necessary shooting. It's safer that way."

"Ok then, since you volunteered. Let's go."

She opened the car door tentatively, trying to hide her fear but failing drastically. Wilfred could not understand the woman's constant zeal to help people. She was a wealthy matron, a billionaire who had everything money could buy. As far as Wilfred knew, billionaires were usually arrogant, stuffed and conceited, caring only about their welfare but Madam Veronica was different. In all his services as a chauffeur, he had never met anyone like her. She was a saintly mother figure, loved by all who knew her through and through.

Currently, she was leading the way into a probable dangerous hideout, not caring about her own safety.

"Hello?" Madam Veronica called out in a hush-hush voice. Wilfred whipped her a look, worried about her choice of words. She shrugged and tried to make a whistle out of her fingers and her lips but it resulted to a muted failure. Wilfred shook his head to avoid laughing and gave her the whistle she could not produce. His was louder, piercing the night and echoing along the lane.

As quick as a flash of lightening, a group of raggedy men broke out of an apartment, running wildly in all directions. Wilfred pulled his mistress out of harm's way just in time and the lurky shadows had hidden them perfectly. The men had left the apartment door swinging ajar and it was so dark inside the house. Madam Veronica was scouched close to the ground and she pushed her fist against her pacemaker, exchanging heavy breaths with the environment.

Wilfred helped her to her feet after she had gotten a hold of her emotions.

"Ma'am, I beg you, let us leave this place. It is not safe for someone of your magnitude. Please, ma'am," he pleaded, eyes scanning the area. Madam Veronica hardened her eyes and pushed his hands off his arm. That screaming person needed help and by God, she would help or die trying. She walked forward towards the open door, throwing all caution to the wind.

"Hello?" she called again, this time cupping her lips with her palms to amplify her voice. In response to her call, she got a croaky whimper and a light shuffling of feet. She switched on her tiny flashlight and what she saw almost made her throw up. A young girl was sprawled across the floor on her belly, scrambling painfully to crawl to the open door. She was covered with blood, all manner of injuries and cuts but she kept trying to crawl, wincing and groaning whenever she rubbed a raw spot too hard or too fast.

The light emanating from the flashlight had gotten the girl's attention and she came to a halt. She raised her head slowly and arched it sideways to see around the light but the identity of the stranger remained hidden in form of a silhouette. She gasped weakly, raising her palm to block out the light and like that, her eyes rolled in and she blacked out.