AFRICA: 1998

“Darling, would you like a glass of champagne?” she asked, her voice soft, almost drowned by the storm.

“No, thank you, Jessica.” Josh’s eyes lingered on the hallway that led to their son’s room. “Is the little one asleep?”

“Yes,” she said with a faint smile. “I fed him, tucked him in, poured myself a glass, and came to join my loving husband.”

Josh gave a short, humorless laugh. “Ha.”

Jessica gazed out the window. “It’s quite stormy outside,” she murmured.

“You’re going to spill that drink on me,” Josh snapped, his tone sharper than he intended.

“Oh—my apologies,” Jessica said quickly, startled.

“Make sure you buckle your seatbelt.”

“Okay… what’s going on with you?”

Josh rubbed his temples and exhaled. “Sorry. I’m just tired.

Jessica set down her glass and leaned forward, placing her hand gently over his. Her touch was warm, deliberate, and steady. “Is it about this marriage?”

His head lifted, his jaw tightening. “What are you talking about? Don’t start with the nonsense, Jess.”

Her eyes shimmered with tears. Her voice was barely above a whisper. “I know what you did.”

Josh Hart’s heart skipped a beat. His thoughts raced in the flash of a second. There’s no way she can know.

Who told her? That cunning old fox? He’s taking my company and your daughter too? His pulse hammered, though he kept his face still.

“Honey?” Jessica’s tone softened. She wiped her tears and forced a broad smile.

“Your mom mentioned you’ve been talking about a second baby. After Oliver, You were happy… but lately, we hadn’t been intimate much, and I wondered if you had lost affection for me.”

Josh’s relief was immediate, though his chest still ached with the pounding of his heart. He forced himself to exhale, to stand.

He stepped toward her.

pulling her to her feet, wrapping her in an embrace that was a little too tight.

“No, Jess,” he said. “I’ve just been busy with the company. That’s why we’re here, after all.”

“I see,” she whispered against his chest. He leaned back and cupped her face.

“I love you. You know that."

“Yes,” Jessica whispered. But deep down, she already knew the truth of his infidelity.

The cockpit door creaked open with a slow, deliberate groan.

“What a scene,” a voice drawled, deep and mocking, cutting through the steady hum of the engines.

Jessica and Josh turned in unison.

A man stepped into the aisle, dressed in black. The dim cabin lights caught the gleam of the pistol in his hand.

“Love,” he said, his tone almost tender, “is so beautiful.”

Jessica’s breath hitched. “Who… who are you?”

Josh moved without thinking, shielding her with his body.

“What do you want?” His voice was low and tight.

The man’s eyes never left Jessica as he twisted a silencer onto the barrel. The metallic click echoed like a countdown.

“I want you,” he murmured.

The shots came fast—three muffled thuds that seemed to suck the air from the room.

Josh staggered back, crimson blood across his shirt. His knees buckled, and he crumpled to the floor.

Jessica dropped with him, her hands pressing against the warmth, blood spilling through her fingers.

The man in black smiled—slow, deliberate, and cruel. From the cockpit, another figure emerged, face hidden behind a black mask.

“Okay,” the masked man said flatly, “job finished.”

Jessica’s thoughts were a blur. "Job finished," she repeated in her mind — until a sudden, stabbing pain tore through her chest. Her breath caught. She pressed her palm to the spot and felt the hot, sticky truth. Blood.

The masked man’s gaze flicked toward her just as her legs gave way. She hit the floor hard, the sound swallowed by the low, constant roar of the engines.

“What on earth did you do?” the masked man demanded, his voice tight with disbelief.

The unmasked man, Smile Drop, tilted his head, his grin almost playful. “What did I do? I didn’t intend for it to happen. I had no idea the bullet would go through.”

“You didn’t know?” The masked man’s tone sharpened, each word like a blade.

“I knew you were new, but I didn’t know you were dumb, too.”

The unmasked man, finger curled over the trigger, the muzzle rising just enough to make the air between them feel like it might shatter.

“Stop,” The unmasked man warned, his stance unyielding. “If you keep talking like that, I’ll make sure you end up on the floor with them.”

A tense silence. The hum of the engines.

“If they find out what we did to the girl,” the masked man continued, “we’ll both be six feet under alongside them.”

“Then it’s best they don’t know,” The unmasked man replied, his grin never faltering. “Alright. Let’s move.”

They turned toward the plane’s side door, parachutes strapped tight, when a thin, wavering cry rose from the rear of the cabin.

“Let’s go,” the unmasked man urged.

“We can’t,” the masked man said, already stepping back.

“Yes, we can. They wanted the kid and the husband dead. What’s the issue?”

“I can’t.” The masked man moved toward the sound. In the last row, a small kid sat trembling, cheeks wet with tears.

The masked man knelt, placing a gloved hand gently on the kid’s head. The crying stopped instantly, replaced by a shy, trusting smile.

His chest tightened.

He bent to lift the kid—"Bang."

The impact slammed into the back of his neck. He staggered, turning just enough to see the unmasked man grin.

“You’re just a sheep.” The unmasked man said coldly. “You don’t belong here.”

"Bang."

Blood sprayed across the kid’s face. The kid’s smile shattered into a wail.

“What a nuisance,” the unmasked man muttered, stepping forward.

He raised the gun, locking eyes with the kid. “Perhaps you’re too innocent to exist among us.” He squeezed the trigger.

Click. Click.

His grin faltered. “What the hell?” He tore through the masked man’s pockets—no bullets.

“Well, tough luck for you, kid. You’re about to burn.”

“Dada,” the child whimpered.

The unmasked man froze, meeting the kid’s gaze. His jaw tightened. “Damn it. I’m not doing that.”

He grabbed the masked man’s limp body, dragging it to the door. With a grunt, he shoved it into the roaring night sky.

Then, cradling the kid, he leapt.

The wind screamed around them as they plummeted.

He yanked the parachute cord—the canopy snapped open above.

The kid’s cries returned, high and piercing.

The unmasked man reached into his vest, pulling out a small black remote.

“Do you enjoy fireworks?” he asked, pressing the button.

Behind them, the plane erupted into a ball of fire, the explosion lighting the clouds in a hellish glow.

The kid’s tears stopped. His eyes widened. And slowly, a smile spread across his face.