Chapter 7: Breaking Free
Diane's fingers tightened slightly on the armrest as the car began to pick up speed.
The city lights blurred past the windows, but all she could do was focus on the rearview mirror, where another car was following closely.
"Mrs. Diane," the driver spoke calmly, but alerting. "Someone's tailing us."
She glanced behind them, her chest tightened briefly before she forced herself to relax.
She knew who it was.
Of course, she knew.
Adrian didn't know how to let go.
"Can you lose them?" she asked, biting her lip.
"Yes, ma'am," the driver replied with quiet confidence.
He made a sharp right turn, the tires screeched faintly on the pavement.
Diane braced herself, clutching the door handle as the car sped down a narrower street.
A glance in the side mirror showed the other vehicle struggling to keep up.
The driver turned again, this time into an alley, and then emerged onto a parallel street.
Within minutes, the tailing car was gone, disappearing into the city's traffic.
Diane let out a slow breath. "Thank you," she breathed out.
The driver nodded. "It's my job, ma'am. Should I take you home now?"
"Yes," Diane replied firmly. "Please."
The moment Diane stepped into her house, the bad energy began to ease.
The quiet was soothing her, the scent of fresh roses from the garden helped her to feel more at peace.
But the relief was short-lived.
As she passed the mirror in the hallway, she caught sight of herself—the pristine hair, the flawless makeup, the perfectly tailored dress—and her eye twitched.
Her natural hair was curly, wild, and full of life.
But every morning, she stood in front of a mirror, straightening it until it was sleek and perfect.
Just how Richard and Adrian had always wanted it.
"You have to look perfect," Richard's voice repeated in her memory. "No mistakes. No flaws."
Adrian's laugh followed. "Do you want people to think you're messy? Pathetic? Fix yourself."
Diane's chest tightened, and before she knew it, she was storming into the bathroom.
She grabbed the straightener from the counter, its metallic surface, and without hesitation, threw it into the trash.
"No more," she muttered, shaking her shoulders from anger.
She turned on the shower, letting the water run warm before stepping in.
As the water fell over her, she ran her fingers through her hair, watching as the carefully pressed strands gave way to her natural curls.
She closed her eyes, the sensation of freedom washed over her with each droplet.
When she stepped out, her curls framed her face in soft, untamed waves.
A small smile appeared on her face, as Diane finally felt like herself.
She laughed faintly at her reflection before wrapping herself in a robe and heading to her desk.
Her laptop buzzed as an email notification popped up.
She clicked it open and was greeted by a list of bodyguard profiles, each seemed accompanied by a photograph and a brief description.
Diane scrolled through them slowly, looking at each one.
The candidates were all impressive—former military personnel, skilled martial artists, experts in firearms.
But one profile caught her attention.
His nickname was Riot.
The photograph showed a man with curly red hair and light brown eyes that seemed to glow with something.
His features were quite handsome, though his nose had a slight bend as if it had been broken once, and there was a faint scar running across his left eyebrow—but Diane found his imperfections captivating.
His physique was solid, strong but not overly bulky, and there was something about the way he stood in the photograph—relaxed but on alert—that spoke of quiet confidence.
She read through his profile carefully.
Specializations: Close combat, armed and unarmed defense, surveillance, and psychological profiling.
Experience: 10 years in private security, including high-profile clients.
Notes: Known for his adaptability and discretion.
Diane leaned back in her chair, a small smile playing on her lips.
"Riot," she murmured. The name suited him.
Her phone buzzed on the desk.
It was a call from Mr. Daniels. She picked up, keeping her tone professional.
"Mrs. Frost," Mr. Daniels greeted her. "I hope you received the profiles we sent over?"
"Yes," Diane replied. "I've looked through them, and I'd like to select Riot."
There was a pause on the other end of the line.
"An excellent choice," Mr. Daniels said finally. "He's one of our best. I'll notify him immediately. He can be at your residence by tomorrow morning, if that works for you."
"That works perfectly," Diane said.
"Very well. We'll handle all the arrangements. Thank you for choosing Raven Shield Security."
"Thank you, Mr. Daniels." Diane ended the call and placed her phone on the desk, exhaling slowly.
Diane felt like things were beginning to fall into place.
She wasn't just surviving—she was taking control, making decisions, and building a future on her own terms.
As she glanced at the photo of Riot on her screen one last time, she allowed herself a moment of hope.
'Maybe this is the start of something new,' she thought. 'Something better.'