CHAPTER ONE
"Martha Smith? Is that you?"
The deep voice echoed from the other side of the restroom.
Startled, Martha quickly clipped her stomach belt and stepped into the light, squinting to see who it was.
Her heart sank.
It was him again...Dave Benson.
The maniac.
The illegitimate son of the CEO of Carter Organization.
Her pulse quickened instantly.
Dave had that same obsessive stare she dreaded...the one that always made her skin crawl.
He started toward her.
She stepped back, panic tightening her chest.
Suddenly, a firm hand caught hers.
She turned sharply...
Fred Thompson.
Her breath trembled with relief.
Fred had come to her rescue, as always.
He knew exactly who Dave was...and what he was capable of.
Fred's eyes hardened as he faced Dave.
"What are you doing near the female restroom?"
Dave froze, visibly uneasy.
Then, without a word, he turned and walked away.
Martha's heart was still pounding.
Of all the problems she faced at Carter Organization, Dave Benson was the worst of them.
Fred picked up her bag and gestured toward his car outside.
They walked in silence.
Inside the car, they didn't speak for a long moment.
Then, softly, Fred asked,
"How have you been?"
She exhaled.
"I've been… well."
He studied her face.
"Did Lizzy give you a hard time again?"
Martha groaned.
"She wants me to work as fast as Nana with the calculations, but I can't push myself beyond my limits. I wish someone would just see that I'm trying my best."
Fred smiled faintly.
"No one? What about me? I see everything you don't even see. I see a great woman who's going to command organizations someday."
She gave a weary laugh.
"That gives you fulfillment, but it doesn't..."
"Martha!" he cut her off, frustration edging his tone.
"Stop looking down on yourself! Lizzy, Nana, even Gabriella...none of them is better than you! You're more intelligent than all of them!"
Her gaze softened.
"You still love Gabriella, don't you?"
He rolled his eyes.
"Why do you always bring that up?"
"Because ever since she started working here three years ago, you've made me do everything she does. It's like you're trying to prove something to her through me."
He looked straight at her.
"I love you, Martha. Whether you believe it or not, I do. And all I want is what's best for you."
Tears welled in her eyes.
"But Fred, you know this isn't what's best for me… I...".
"Are we still going through this cooking thing? Are we really going through that again?" His tone turned sharp as he continued. "Your parents were both cooks at Lasagna Restaurant. And what happened? They died in that train accident...wretched and helpless! I know how much that traumatized you, but I just want us to walk this path of wealth together..."
"Don't!" she snapped, tears streaming now."Don't ever bring my parents into this! They didn't die because they were cooks! They died because they were on that train that tragic morning! Stop justifying your ambition with their deaths!"
Fred sighed heavily, rubbing his temples."My mum will want to know what you're doing, to see if you're qualified to marry me someday… I just don't want you to stutter when that time comes."
Her voice broke."So I have to prove I'm worth marrying?"
"That's not what I meant..."
She touched his cheek gently, eyes brimming with emotion.
"Those reasons are too small, Fred. I can do them all. I know you just want me to feel confident when I meet your parents."
He pulled her into a hug.
"Thank you, Martha."
Moments later, he started the engine, joy flickering in his eyes as Michael Smith's 'Heart of Worship' filled the car.
They hummed softly along, their voices blending into the melody.
"Should we stop at Baker's for your favorite pizza?" he asked with a grin.
She chuckled.
"Alright."
Fred was delighted to see her smile again.
He bought her pizza, beaming as she laughed while a few women nearby stole glances at his strikingly handsome face.
When they finally arrived at her house, silence settled again.
They sat for a moment in the car, eyes locked, love unspoken.
"Don't forget the choir prayer meeting on WhatsApp tonight," she said, smiling as she stepped out.
She waved until his car disappeared from sight...her heart full, yet uncertain.
As Martha turned toward her house, she heard footsteps behind her.
A tall, male figure was walking slowly in her direction.
Her heart began to race.
The front yard was dimly lit, shadows stretching across the ground.
The man wore a hood, his face hidden.
Martha's fingers trembled as she whispered a quiet prayer for her safety.
Just as he drew closer, a familiar voice broke through the tension.
"Martha!"
She turned sharply...relief flooding her chest.
It was Mrs. Whitmore, her elderly neighbor.
Martha exhaled, smiling wide.
"Hi, Mrs. Whitmore!" she said, rushing toward her.
Mrs. Whitmore's face glowed with excitement.
"Our first son returned today, so we made soup for the neighborhood. Here, this is your share."
She handed Martha a large bowl covered neatly with a napkin.
When Martha turned back toward her yard, the mysterious figure was gone.
A chill ran down her spine.
She whispered a thankful prayer to God and gently pulled Mrs. Whitmore into the house with her.
Inside, the warm light eased her nerves.
She offered to share the pizza Fred Thompson had bought for her earlier.
Though Mrs. Whitmore hesitated, she eventually agreed.
After enjoying the creamy chicken soup and pizza, Martha poured herself some juice and took a long gulp.
"I never imagined I'd eat chicken soup and pizza in one night," she said with a laugh.
Mrs. Whitmore chuckled.
"Thank you for the pizza, dear. Though I'll have to do some exercises tonight to burn these calories."
Martha burst into laughter.
"For crying out loud, Mrs. Whitmore, you just turned sixty! Why do you still watch your weight like a teenage girl?"
They both laughed heartily.
"Because Max still calls me 'Vanessa,'" Mrs. Whitmore said with a playful grin."Every time he does, I feel young all over again."
Martha laughed even harder.
Max was her husband, and he was just as charming as she was warm-hearted.
Then Mrs. Whitmore's tone softened.
"That man earlier… was he a stalker?"
Martha froze, startled. She hadn't realized Mrs. Whitmore had seen him.
"You saw him?"
Mrs. Whitmore nodded.
"Yes. I noticed him while bringing your food. That's why I called you immediately. He'd been standing there for almost an hour before you arrived. Since you don't know him, I'll alert the police. They can keep watch around here until they catch him."
Tears of gratitude filled Martha's eyes.
"Thank you so much, Mrs. Whitmore. I'm truly blessed to have a neighbor like you."
Later, after walking her to the door, Martha felt a wave of relief as she prepared to shower.
By the time she stepped out, the WhatsApp choir prayer meeting had already begun.
As expected, Fred Thompson was absent...again.
He had been missing the meetings ever since his promotion to Regional Manager.
When the prayer session ended, her phone rang.
It was Fred.
She picked up immediately.
"Why didn't you join the prayer meeting?" she asked gently.
"I was having an important discussion with my mother," he replied.
"But you could've asked her to give you a few minutes to..."
"Oh, stop being so religious," he interrupted.
"I missed one prayer meeting, not a lifetime of them."
Martha sighed softly.
"Alright then, just… be good, okay?"
"Are you fine?" he asked.
She hesitated.
She wanted to tell him about the hooded stranger but stopped herself...she didn't want to worry him.
"I'm fine. What did your mum cook?"
"Pepperoni and gizzard."
"Mmm, yummy. Mrs. Whitmore brought chicken soup."
"Whoa...that was nice of her."
"It was." She smiled faintly.
"Alright then. Let's get some sleep so we can be up early for work."
They said their goodnights, but as Martha lay in bed, her mind drifted back to the man in the hood...and the chilling thought that he might still be out there.