Amanda Burnet stepped out of the taxi; the evening air was thick with the scent of car exhaust and fried street food. She adjusted her bag over her shoulder, and looked up at the towering Abibba Building, its glass windows shining under the city lights.
"Another long night," she muttered to herself, sighing.
Abibba wasn't just any building; it was the financial hub of New Haven. Banks, insurance companies, and high-end businesses filled its floors. Security was tight, and as one of the key custodians, Amanda's job was important.
She walked through the entrance, nodding at the security guard stationed by the metal detectors. "Evening, Joseph."
Joseph gave her a tired smile. "Evening, Amanda. Ready for another shift?"
She chuckled. "As ready as I'll ever be."
She passed through the checkpoint and made her way to the security office. The hallway buzzed with activity; workers leaving, others settling in for the night shifts. Phones rang, printers hummed, and a little noise of people discussing different topics filled the air.
At her desk, Amanda dropped her bag and sat down. Her monitors lit up with live feeds from the building's security cameras, hallways, offices, parking lots. Everything looked normal.
She reached for the key box, checking that all safes were accounted for. Only a few high-ranking officials had access to them, but she was the one who kept the master keys locked away.
"Hey, Amanda," came a voice behind her. It was Brian, one of the junior security officers. "Think we'll get an easy night?"
Amanda smirked, tapping the monitor. "If only. But something always happens."
Brian laughed. "Yeah, but let's hope tonight is boring."
She nodded, turning back to her screens. Everything was quiet and smooth, maybe just for now.
Amanda's fingers hovered over the keyboard, eyes scanning the security monitors. The hallways were empty. The offices were quiet. She took a deep breath and murmured something to herself.
And then, a very low noise filled the air.
Amanda barely noticed it at first, just a little hum from the monitors. But then it crackled.
The sound sharpened, like tiny electric sparks were crawling through the wires.
The screens flickered, the images twisting into disconnected lines before turning black and white.
Her stomach tightened. "What the hell…?"
Before she could react, the door flew open, slamming against the wall. Heavy boots stormed in. Shadows rushed through the room.
Six men, dressed in all black, faces hidden behind ski masks. Each mask was marked with bold white letters of MZ.
Guns gleamed under the fluorescent lights.
"Nobody move! Hands up!" one of them barked, his voice was sharp, and commanding.
Amanda's felt like she had stopped breathing. Around her, her colleagues froze, eyes widened, their hands trembling as they slowly raised them. Someone whimpered. Someone else choked on a sob.
Two of the masked men walked toward Amanda's desk, their eyes locked on her.
"You," the taller one said, pointing his gun straight at her chest. "The keys. Now."
Amanda's body went cold. Her pulse pounded in her ears. She knew better than to argue. With shaky hands, she reached for the drawer, her fingers fumbling as she pulled it open.
"Hurry up," the second man snapped with a sharp voice.
She swallowed hard, and her throat went dry. Her hands trembled as she pulled out the master keys. "P-please don't hurt anyone," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
The taller mobster snatched the keys from her hand. He scoffed. "Stay quiet, and no one gets hurt."
Without hesitation, he tossed the keys to another man, who caught them with ease and turned toward the safes. He moved quickly without turning around, like he already knew exactly where he was going.
Amanda's breath came in short gasps as she watched them. How do they know? She asked herself and wondered if the mobsters knew her as she was the one who kept the keys to the safes.
The safe doors clicked open within minutes. The mobsters worked fast, stuffing bundles of cash into large duffel bags.
The sound of siren was heard a little at first, and then louder as they were getting closer.
"Cops!" one of the mobsters snarled.
Chaos erupted. The men snapped their heads toward the door, they moved backward quickly, their guns still pointed at the civilians.
"Grab what you can…we need to go!"
One of them, a shorter figure with twitchy hands, grabbed a lighter from his pocket.
"What the hell are you doing?" another hissed.
"Covering tracks," the man muttered. With a flick, he set fire to a pile of papers and folders stacked on a nearby desk.
Flames leaped, licking up the dry paper, swallowing the documents in seconds. Smoke curled into the air and screams of panic were heard.
People rushed for the exits as fire spread rapidly across the room, climbing up the curtains, crackling over desks.
The mobsters rushed out, disappearing into the smoke-filled corridors, leaving nothing but destruction behind.
The sirens blared louder, and within moments, police cars screeched to a stop outside. Officers stormed in, and they draw out their guns, shouting for everyone to get down.
Detective James Willard stepped forward, his sharp eyes scanning the chaos. He spotted Amanda sitting outside, frozen, her hands still trembling.
He crouched beside her. "Miss, are you alright?"
Amanda opened her mouth, but no words came out.
"Can you tell me what happened?" Willard pressed gently.
Amanda blinked, her vision blurry with fear. Her lips quivered. "I don't…"
Willard exchanged glances with one of the officers. "She's in shock. Take her to the station. We need a full statement."
An officer helped Amanda to her feet. Her legs felt like jelly. As they led her out of the burning building, her mind replayed the masked men, the guns, and the fire.
It was almost four in the morning, and Sylvania Scarlet couldn't sleep, wondering what was going on. It seemed too early for trouble, but this was New Haven; the city that never rests. She heard people talking quietly outside, and soon, her dog Coco started licking her feet. At the same time, her alarm beeped, reminding her it was time to get up.
"Oh, Coco, did you even sleep?" she asked, smiling at him. Coco whimpered, and clearly he was hungry. "Alright, let's get you some food," she said, patting his head as she headed to the kitchen. After filling his bowl with dog food, Coco wagged his tail and dug right in.
Sylvania watched him for a second, and then she switched on the TV. The news came on right away.
"Breaking news: A large fire has broken out at Abibba's commercial house in downtown New Haven. Firefighters are on the scene."
Her eyes widened. Abibba House? She had no time to think about it. With a little look at the clock, she knew she was running late.
"Damn!" Sylvania muttered, rushing to the bathroom for a quick shower.
After getting dressed in a white, fitting dress and heels, she checked herself in the mirror. With a swipe of red lipstick and she was ready to go. She grabbed her bag and patted Coco one last time before heading out. Climbing into her beautiful black Benz, she drove off to Style Studios, and she was willing to be there on time.
In another part of the city, Zagaff Manscent, also known as "The Don," sat in his office, sipping wine and thinking about how to expand his power in New Haven. The police were a big problem, but he knew he had to find a way to show them he was in control.
He turned to his laptop and opened an email with a video attachment labeled "Abibba." Clicking on it, Zagaff leaned forward as the black-and-white footage showed his men moving through Abibba's corridors. They worked quickly, emptying safes filled with cash. One of them lit a match and threw it into a pile of papers, setting everything on fire.
Zagaff smiled. My men did well. They had sent a message; one that Victor Morano wouldn't ignore.
Victor, a powerful mafia figure, had once tried to get rid of him. He hired a hitman to kill Zagaff at a business gala, making it look like a robbery. But the plan failed, and that Zagaff survived.
Now, he was just returning the favor. Victor will soon know who truly runs this city.
Sylvania stepped into Style Studios, her heels clicking on the shiny floor. The room was alive with movement as designers bent over their sketches, hands flying across pages, while models walked up and down the runway, practicing their steps. The air smelled of fabric, new leather, and fresh coffee.
She walked in with a smile, her white dress catching the light, and everyone turned around just to look at her.
"Wow, Sylvania!" Vivian's eyes lit up. "You look stunning!"
Josh whistled. "That dress is made for you. You shine in white."
Sylvania laughed, twirling slightly. "I couldn't help myself. It felt like a wear-this-now kind of day."
Vivian ran a hand over the beaded area of the dress. "It sparkles like stars. You look like a queen."
Sylvania grinned, enjoying the moment. But then, Vivian's face grew serious.
"Did you hear about Abibba House?" she asked.
Josh's smile faded. "Yeah, I heard. Was it bad?"
Sylvania nodded. "I saw the news this morning. The fire looked serious."
A sharp gasp broke the air.
Anita's hands flew to her mouth. "My sister…Amanda! She was working the night shift!"
The noise of the studio disappeared.
Anita's fingers fumbled as she grabbed her phone. She quickly pressed the call button when she had found Amanda's name.
It rang continuously and there was no answer. She swallowed hard and called again, but still nothing.
Her hands shook. "Come on, Amanda… pick up."
Josh leaned closer. "Try texting her."
Anita's breath came fast, her fingers tapping quickly on the screen.
Amanda, are you okay? Please call me.
She hit send, staring at the phone waiting for it to buzz.
Sylvania placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "The news said no one was hurt. She's probably okay."
Anita nodded, but her eyes stayed locked on her phone.
Minutes passed. The sound of sewing machines, typing, and chatter filled the room again. But Anita wasn't listening. She dialed Tony, Amanda's husband who picked up at the first ring.
"Tony?" Her voice cracked. "Is Amanda okay? She won't answer, and I'm scared."
"She's safe, Anita," Tony said. "She's at the police station."
Anita's stomach clenched. "The police? Why?"
Tony sighed. "Some guys forced her to open the safes. She's not in trouble, but the police need her statement."
Relief hit Anita so hard she had to sit down. Her legs felt weak. "Oh, thank God."
"She's fine," Tony assured her. "She'll be home soon."
Anita hung up and quickly typed a message to the group.
Amanda's safe! She's at the police station but okay.
Sylvania's phone buzzed. She read the message and let out a deep breath.
Thank God! So glad she's okay. Let us know if you need anything.
She set her phone down and turned to her desk. Rolls of fabric lay open, soft silk draping over the table. She ran her fingers over a rich blue piece, picturing it flowing down the runway at New Haven Fashion Week.