You Belong to Me
Inspired by Grimm tale The Nix of the Millpond
By Zee Monodee
How far would you go in the name of love?
I don’t think anyone really expects to answer this question at any point in their lives.... But when this situation happens, how do you react? Do you ask yourself to what lengths you’re willing to go...or at one point, does this quest take over you and you’re left to wonder what love’s got to do with it all? Do you end up losing yourself in this downward spiral?
Such is the situation faced by Jemima Chhayya at the start of this tale. A Detective Inspector with the London Metropolitan Police, her life is looking like a fairytale come true thanks to the obvious adoration of handsome headhunter Andrew Moran. The day it all turns to custard is their one year anniversary as a couple – one year is more than enough to know somebody, right?
Wrong! Because when Andrew is abducted, and all leads start going cold without revealing anything but dead ends, Jemima is faced with the question of how far she will go to get back the man she loves. Never a wilting flower nor a damsel in distress, she will stop at nothing in her quest.
Secrets burst forth; her life no longer her own as she all but sells her soul to a Mystery Man who feeds her intel about Andrew’s abduction. Jemima thinks she is prepared for anything that might come her way, but the first wall she slams into is a huge, indestructible one...
For, you see, the real Andrew Moran died as a one-day-old baby thirty-four years earlier....
Who is really the man who shared her bed this past year? Could his real identity be the reason behind his abduction?
Jemima should leave matters well enough alone, but she can’t, and she will get to the bottom of this matter, even if it kills her!
Join her on this ride around London’s seedier areas and the East End crime world to discover the truth behind Andrew Moran and his abduction.
“...Sins of the father, they say, but in this case, of the mother. The devil always returns for his pound of flesh, and his price is never less than your soul. ...”
Detective Inspector Jemima Chhayya is no damsel in distress but feels like a princess whenever she’s with her Prince Charming, the handsome Andrew Moran. Their romance is a fairytale come true, their happily-ever-after just behind the door.
Until true evil from Andrew’s past tears them apart, and all hope seems lost.
The princess turns into a huntress as she sets out to find her man and bring him back to her side.
But is she prepared for the truth she will find along her quest in the seedier areas of London’s East End? Starting with the fact that Andrew Moran has never existed?
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“Andrew?” Jemima rushed over to the last room down the corridor—his office—and stopped on the threshold.
Obvious signs of struggle littered the tiny room, and the window at the back sported a crack down the middle. What the hell? But something else churned her gut and made her clamp her hand to her mouth so she wouldn’t retch.
In crimson strokes on the wall.
YOU BELONG TO ME
What had happened there? Whose blood? Andrew! Her pulse pounded in her head all while she rushed through the flat, throwing the door to every bedroom open with trepidation that she’d find more blood somewhere. The rooms appeared pristine, but this didn’t alleviate her apprehension; in fact, she grew more and more agitated as she went through the space and didn’t find the man she loved anywhere. She even checked the terrace, hoping he’d fallen asleep outside on a chaise longue and didn’t hear her, the interior being soundproof. In the main hallway, she called out his name, but nothing except the sound of her unusually shrill voice pierced the unnatural quiet.
Her steps brought her again to the small office at the end of the corridor, to stare once more at the graffiti on the wall. A part of her told her to steer clear of the evidence, but she couldn’t resist the other part that made her draw closer and touch the red lettering. Her finger came back smeared with a hint of crimson.
Good grief. It had almost dried, and blood took a long time to solidify. This—whatever this had been—had happened a while ago. Over an hour.
Andrew! Her heart hammered away while she speed-dialed his number again and landed on voice-mail. Dread raced down her spine and soldered her legs to chunks of rock.
She gripped the phone tight, her hands shaking so hard she nearly dropped it. For what seemed like hours, she stared at it, knowing if she called, all this—this nightmare—would be real. It couldn’t be. This wasn’t happening.
From Mauritius with love,
Find more about Zee at her website/blog http://zeemonodee.blogspot.com/
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