"I need to find her," he told himself.
Then he saw it. A black van parked awkwardly by the roadside. It rocked faintly, like something, or someone was struggling inside.
At first glance, it could have been kids fooling around or men unloading cargo. Donald didn't want to take chances.
He came down from the car, then walked to the vehicle. He heard faint sounds.
Every step he took, the sound became louder: muffled, raw and strangled. Like a woman trying to scream with a cloth pressed over her mouth.
His blood went cold.
He ran to the van. The windows were dark; he could not see in. He kicked the side and leaned close.
The sound came again. This time louder and desperate.
Without thinking, Donald smashed the windows with his elbow, and forced the door open.
The men inside turned toward him, surprise flashing across their face.
In their middle was Grace. Her blouse was torn, her wrists bound painfully behind her back, her mouth gagged. Sweat and tears streaked her face, mixing into a silent cry for help.
One of the men already had their trousers open, grinning with filthy hunger.
Donald did not wait, he dragged the first man out as he landed him a blow. He slammed his face against the edge of the Van door.
Another tried to stab Donald, but he dodged. Donald caught his wrist, twisted it until the bones cracked. He hit the man on his stomach with his knee.
The third barely had time to zip his trousers before Donald dragged him by his collar and hit his head against the street light pole.
Donald wasn't just angry, he was possessed. Every punch carried the weight of his rage. He kept hitting them until they were too weak to stand or run.
Only then did he turn.
Grace knelt. Her dress was tattered, and her hair was messy. He removed her gag. And untied her hands.
"Grace." He said with so much fear in his eyes. "Are you okay?"
She didn't answer. When he reached for her, she flinched and slid back as if his touch burned. Her eyes were wide and empty with shock.
"It's me, Donald." He said, touching his chest like a pledge. Grace stared at him like she didn't recognize him.
Donald took off his jacket and placed it around her shoulders. He lifted her into his arms in bridal style and carried her out of that cursed van.
The car ride was silent. Only her soft, broken sobs filled the air. She sat almost pressed against the window and did not want to look at him.
Donald felt so helpless. He swore to find those men and make them suffer for laying their hands on her.
When they reached the mansion, he parked in the driveway and turned to her.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
Grace turned to him, her eyes and face were red and swollen. She lifted up her hand and landed on Donald's face. The slap cut through the air.
Donald felt hurt not because of the slap but because of the pain she was going through.
He couldn't do anything but look at her.
Something moved in the hedges beyond the driveway. It moved fast that they almost missed.
A light blinked then went out.
Donald turned to the direction of the light wondering who was watching them.
"You bastard," Grace spat angrily. "Do you think I am stupid? You send those men after me, then come play hero? To confuse me? To get close to me so I'll tell you what I know? How low can the Coles stoop? You disgust me. You want to kill me just like your parents did Bernard." Her voice broke at the end, trembling with pain and fury.
Her words cut through the air. Donald stared at her, the weight behind her words made his heart ache.
"If I sent them," he said slowly. "Why would I save you?'
"Because it's all a game to you," she cried, voice trembling. "A rich man's game."
"Do you know how many threats I have had since I started chasing this story? It always comes back to you, your family. Don't lie to me, Donald. I know how far your people will go."
He leaned closer, "Did they touch you?" his voice dropped, darker than she had ever heard. "Tell me. Did they?"
Grace froze. She shook her head.
"Good," Donald replied. "Because if they had, I would kill them with my bare hands slowly."
Her throat tightened, and for a moment. Something dangerous but not aimed at her.
Donald leaned back in his seat. "Why, Grace?" he asked calmly, his face puzzled. "If you know your life is at risk, if you know they are after you, why do you keep pushing? Is all of this worth your life?"
Her chest rose and fell. Then she burst out all her feelings, her pain.
"My father died when I was three," she said, "He worked at one of your oil sites. They never told us what happened. One day, he just didn't come home."
Donald's face changed from fury to something else; guilt. But she didn't stop.
"The oil spills into the river. That's the water we drank. That's what gave my mother cancer. She fought for two years. I was just five when she died in front of me. Alone, no one came, no money, no compensation, nothing."
Tears rolled down her cheeks, but she kept speaking. The words bled out.
"I've struggled all my life. Worked, starved, crawled my way up here. And for what? To see your family sit on billions, throwing parties while the poor rot? The same family that ruined my life. Do you know what that feels like? To have nothing? To lose everything? And then watch the people who caused it live like they are gods?"
She stressed the last word as tears rolled down her cheek.
"I have nothing to lose, that is why I'll expose you even though it kills me." Silence filled the car. Grace sobs quietly.
Donald was short of words. His chest tightened, he couldn't breathe or utter anything in his family's defense.
He stepped out of the car, made his way to Grace's door.
He reached out to her as if approaching a wounded bird. His hands brushed her shoulder, she didn't resist this time. He carried her in his arms as he entered the mansion.
He got to his room and placed her on his bed. He stared at her, his eyes were different this time. He held her closer to his chest as he gently stroked her hair.
"Grace," He whispered. "I'm not one of them, I'm not."
He tried to stand, but Grace held on to him.
"Please stay, don't go." She said in a very soft yet shaky voice.
The tension between them shifts, although still sharp and dangerous, but alive in a new energy. Her tears dampen his chest, his heart hammering against hers.
In this vulnerable moment, something undefined sparked between them.