Chapter 5 The Shock Of His Life

Williams POV.

The newly commenced national museum was busy with a lot of people and activities from all over the world.

I walked alongside the Secretary of State, Robert Caldwell, a man whose influence could elevate Montgomery Enterprises to new heights. The museum, owned by the government, contained paintings and sculptures that held secrets and historical significance.

The museum manager, a bespectacled man with a high tone, was guiding us through the exhibits. "This sculpture here," he said, pointing to a perfectly carved piece, "dates back to the 16th century and is said to contain hidden compartments used by spies of that era."

"Fascinating," Caldwell murmured, his interest clearly piqued.

I nodded absently, my attention divided. My phone buzzed incessantly in my pocket, Jessica's name flashing on the screen. I adjusted my tie for the umpteenth time, a clear sign of my impatience. "Get me a bottle of water," I ordered my P.A., who promptly scurried off to fulfill my request.

"The detail on this painting," the manager continued, "is extraordinary. It's rumored to hold clues to a long-lost treasure."

"Really?" Caldwell leaned in closer, inspecting the painting with renewed interest.

I forced a polite smile. The only reason I was tolerating this tedious tour was to secure Caldwell as a stakeholder in Montgomery Enterprises. If this meant indulging in his historical curiosities, so be it.

My phone buzzed again. I sighed and muttered under my breath, "Jessica, can you give it a rest?"

Suddenly, the lights went out. The sudden darkness was followed by gasps and murmurs of confusion. A moment later, the lights flickered back on, revealing a scene straight out of a nightmare. We were surrounded by men in masks, their guns pointed directly at us.

"Nobody move!" one of the masked men shouted.

Screams filled the air as panic set in. People either raised their hands in surrender or lay face-down on the floor, pleading for their lives. The museum's security guards tried to react, but several were gunned down in cold blood. A chill traveled down my spine as I watched the chaos unfold.

Caldwell turned to me, his face pale. "William, what's happening?"

"I don't know," I replied, my voice strained. "Stay down and stay quiet."

My mind raced. This was not part of the plan. I was supposed to be impressing the Secretary of State, securing a future for my company, not caught in a life-threatening situation. I glanced around, trying to find a way out, but the masked thieves had us completely surrounded. The fear was evident, and for the first time in a long while, I felt genuinely powerless.

"Everyone on the ground!" the lead thief barked, waving his gun menacingly. "Now!"

I dropped to my knees, my heart pounding. I had to stay calm. I had to survive this. But as I looked into the cold, merciless eyes of the thieves, I knew that might be easier said than done.

The sound of gunshots rang through the hall as another security guard was shot dead. The chill in my spine deepened. This wasn't just a robbery; it was a massacre.

I could see Caldwell trembling beside me, his status and power rendered meaningless in the face of raw terror. My thoughts flickered to Jessica, still buzzing my phone, completely unaware of the danger I was in.

"Please," Caldwell whispered, his voice barely audible. "We have to do something."

"There's nothing we can do," I replied, my voice flat with defeat. "Just keep your head down and pray they don't shoot."

One of the thieves grabbed the museum manager by his collar and hauled him to his feet. The manager's glasses slipped down his nose, his face a mask of terror.

"Start packing up 'The Starlit Night,' 'Eclipse of the Sun,' and 'The Silent Watcher,'" the thief barked, jabbing the barrel of his gun into the manager's ribs. "Or you'll end up like your security."

The manager stammered, "B-but those are irreplaceable! You can't-"

The thief tightened his grip, the menace in his voice unmistakable. "Do it. Now."

Suddenly, a figure darted into the room, a blur of motion. The intruder moved with lightning speed, disarming one of the thieves with a swift twist and a powerful kick.

Gasps and screams filled the air as the other thieves tried to react, but they were no match for this unexpected savior.

My eyes widened in shock. The figure was a young woman, clad in a dark, understated shade of black that contrasted sharply with the thieves' garish attire. Her movements were precise and deadly, each strike calculated to incapacitate her opponents.

One of the thieves managed to get a shot off, but she dodged the bullet with incredible agility. She wrestled another gun away, knocking the thief to the floor with a brutal elbow strike.

While still struggling, she pulled a whistle from her pocket and blew into it sharply. Within moments, more agents in similar attire swarmed in, engaging the remaining thieves. Though skilled, none matched the strength of the woman who had initiated the fight. Despite the fact that she was petite and they were twice her size.

Caldwell, still trembling beside me, whispered, "Who is she?"

"I have no idea," I replied, unable to tear my eyes away from the scene unfolding before us.

Despite the reinforcements, a few thieves managed to slip away, taking 'The Silent Watcher' with them. They fled into the farthest corridors of the museum, their footsteps sounding in the halls.

The remaining thieves were quickly overpowered, held captive by the agents who had arrived. The woman in black stood over them, her breathing steady despite the intensity of the fight.

I found myself staring at her in awe. She had single-handedly turned the tide, her skills far surpassing anything I had ever witnessed.

The museum manager, still shaken, approached her cautiously. "Th-thank you. Who are you?"

She turned to face him, her expression unreadable. "I'm just doing my job," she said simply.

I could barely process what had just happened. One moment, we were at the mercy of ruthless thieves, and the next, a young woman had dismantled their operation with surgical precision. It was nothing short of miraculous.

As the agents swiftly secured the thieves and tied them together, capturing photographs for evidence, I couldn't help but be struck by the powerful presence of the woman leading them.

I watched as she planned the scene with authority, directing her team with commands that left no disobedience.

"Secure the perimeter. No one gets in or out without clearance," she ordered, her voice firm and powerful.

"Yes, ma'am," came the response from the agents as they swiftly carried out her instructions.

Despite everything happening around me, my gaze kept returning to her.

"Keep them in line," she instructed another agent, her tone leaving no room for argument.

There was an uncanny resemblance to Seraphina, my ex-wife, yet this woman was entirely different...lean and powerful, dressed in a sleek agent uniform that molded her slim build.

"Continue photographing the evidence. We need a clear record," she directed, her voice cutting through the commotion.

"Contact the local authorities. Inform them we have the situation under control," she commanded, her authority ringing through each word.

Her eyes, though...those cold, piercing Caribbean blue eyes stirred memories and doubts in me.

I almost slapped my cheek hard.

"Move out. We're wrapping this up," she said, her gaze sweeping over the scene.

Could it truly be her? The woman I once knew now transformed into this powerful person?

And as of sensing being watched, she turned her head in my direction and caught my gaze.

Trapped in her penetrating stare, I felt a chill run down my spine. She held my gaze with a murderousness that made me uneasy, as if she could see right through me, despised me.

And that was when realization hit me like a blow in the face, that it was my ex-wife. Seraphina.