Jessica Murtagh PoV

"Two weeks! It's been two fucking whole weeks without any news of him!" Jessica's voice resonated throughout the opulent sitting room, her words sharp with worry and seething anger. She stood in the center of the room, fists clenched at her sides, her eyes flashing with the intensity of a storm.

Across from her, lounging gracefully on a velvet chaise, sat Alexandra. Poised and unhurried, she held a delicate martini glass in her manicured hand, swirling the clear liquid absently. The soft clinking of ice against crystal was a serene counterpoint to Jessica's tempestuous outburst.

"That's your third drink today," Jessica accused, her voice tight with frustration. "For goodness' sake, pay attention!" In a sudden, impulsive gesture, she slapped the glass from her mother's hand. It flew across the room, shattering against the marble floor in an explosion of glass shards.

Alexandra's eyes widened ever so slightly, a rare display of surprise. "You've grown insolent, child," she remarked coolly, lifting her gaze to meet Jessica's. There was a dangerous edge to her tone. "How dare you treat me with such disrespect."

Rising from the chaise with feline grace, Alexandra towered over her daughter. Her silvery hair cascaded over her shoulders. Despite the turmoil, she exuded an air of unshakable composure.

"Child?" Jessica retorted, unflinching despite the height difference. "The only child here is you, refusing to take anything seriously. Your son has been missing for two weeks, and you haven't even contacted the authorities!" Her voice wavered slightly, betraying the depth of her fear and concern.

Behind them, a grand fireplace crackled softly. On the far wall, a large television screen silently displayed looping news headlines.

[Two weeks have passed since ten million people vanished from the world.]

[0.12% of the global population has disappeared without a trace.]

[The Rapture? Are we living through an apocalypse?]

"He was probably taken in the Rapture," Alexandra said dismissively, a hint of indifference coloring her words. "And if not, he's simply off somewhere. There's no need to worry. He's always been this way."

Jessica's eyes filled with incredulity and simmering anger. "He is not like this! Even when we were children, he never ran away, not even when you gave him every reason to!" The accusation hung heavy in the air, laden with years of unspoken resentment.

Alexandra waved a hand dismissively, her expression one of mild annoyance. "Enough of your dramatics. Go and change; you're dressed like a harlot." Her gaze swept over Jessica's attire.

Usually, it was Jamie who kept the two of them apart, interceding to diffuse the volatile clashes between Jessica and their mother, Alexandra. He bore the brunt of Alexandra's ire when their father was away, a frequent occurrence in their sprawling but empty mansion. Jessica felt a deep pang of guilt as she recalled the countless times she had used her brother as a shield, slipping away from confrontations and relying on his unwavering support to defend her. Especially now, she was acutely aware of all he had endured, the way their mother had treated him since childhood, the weight he had carried in silence.

Yet, she had grown up believing that Jamie was invincible, her protector against the storms that brewed within their opulent but cold home. Only now, with that shield absent, did the reality of his struggles crystallize in her mind.

Jessica ascended the grand staircase to the mansion's second floor, her footsteps echoing against the polished marble.

The past few days without her brother had been torturous. Sleep eluded her, and when it came, it was riddled with fragmented dreams that offered no solace. Worry gnawed at her, a relentless shadow that clung to her every thought. 'What could have happened to him?'

Of course, her mind drifted to the possibility that he had been among those who had vanished. The inexplicable phenomenon that the media had dubbed "The Rapture." Ten million people, gone without a trace. 'But what were the chances?'

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'Everyone they show on the news speaks of how virtuous the missing were,' Jessica mused bitterly as she reached the top of the stairs. 'Model citizens, paragons of virtue.' She shook her head, auburn hair brushing against her slender shoulders. 'Jamie is good, but he's hardly an example society would hold up. Too arrogant, too sharp-tongued to keep his opinions to himself. And his eccentricities…' She allowed herself a fleeting smile. 'They'd unsettle anyone who didn't know him.'

Pushing open the heavy oak door to her bedroom, Jessica scanned the room for her phone. Sunlight filtered through the tall windows draped with sheer curtains. The scent of lavender lingered in the air, a feeble attempt to calm her nerves.

"I left it here somewhere," she muttered, moving past the ornate vanity adorned with silver trinkets and bottles of delicate perfumes. Her gaze swept over the canopy bed with its silk coverings, finally resting on the device tossed carelessly among the pillows.

She crossed the room swiftly, snatching up the phone. Her fingers worked swiftly as she unlocked it and scrolled to her most recent calls. She had already dialed Idris, Jamie's bodyguard, more times than she could count. 'But perhaps this time…'

"Come on, pick up," she whispered, bringing the phone to her ear. The ringing seemed interminable, each tone amplifying her anxiety. After several attempts, the call went unanswered. 'User busy.'

She sighed as she typed out the message, "Where are you?"

Usually, Idris replied promptly. But even after several minutes, there was no response. Anxiety gnawed at Jessica's thoughts. 'Not him, too. Please,' she silently pleaded, hoping that Idris hadn't disappeared as well.

Jessica walked back to her bed, her steps slow and contemplative as she passed by the grand mirror that spanned from floor to ceiling. Though she and Jamie were siblings, they scarcely resembled each other.

Jamie's hair was jet-black, a stark contrast to her own rich, chestnut locks. He was tall and lean, his height accentuated by a confident posture. She, on the other hand, was petite, even shorter than their mother, Alexandra. Standing before the mirror, Jessica scrutinized her reflection with an expression that was a complex blend of uncertainty and defiance. 'I'm not dressed like a harlot,' she thought angrily, recalling her mother's harsh words.

Alexandra had always pushed her toward designer labels and haute couture, eager to mold her into a mirror image of herself, a celebrated model from her youth. But Jessica resisted. She favored clothing that reflected her spirit and her quiet rebellion against expectations.

Today, she wore a red, long-sleeved blouse that draped casually off one shoulder, revealing a hint of collarbone. Tiny white patterns resembling constellations were scattered across the fabric. A black A-line skirt floated around her waist, the hem brushing just above her knees. Clad on her legs were two mismatched stockings, one plain black, the other adorned with a dark lace garter, a whispered statement of individuality and measured defiance.

Her choice of footwear was deliberate: sturdy black leather boots that rose halfway up her calves, the heavy soles adding a grounding weight.

It was an ensemble crafted to project confidence and a touch of rebellion. Yet, beneath the layers of fabric and determination, Jessica often felt the vulnerability of being fifteen, overwhelmed by the uncertainties that now shadowed her world.

"Humph!" she huffed, frustration bubbling over as she flopped onto her bed. The mattress bounced slightly under her weight, the silken sheets cool against her skin. Propping herself up on her elbows, she unlocked her phone once more. Notifications flooded the screen, hundreds of messages across social media platforms. Usually, she might have found distraction in them, but lately, she'd felt no desire to engage.

Her days had become a cycle of searching for news and scouring the internet for any clues about the extraordinary events unfolding around the world. Videos, articles, forums, she consumed them all, trying to piece together the puzzle.

Expecting more of the same speculative headlines and unverified rumors, she began scrolling through the latest news. But as her eyes skimmed over the words, she felt a jolt of shock and a flicker of something she hadn't felt in days: hope.

"People Begin to Reappear Around the World"

"He Claims to Have Become a Hero in Another World"

"'It Must Be Some Kind of Trauma,' Expert Warns"

Jessica sat upright, the phone gripped tightly in her hands. Her heart raced as she clicked on one of the articles, skimming through eyewitness accounts and expert opinions.

As she delved deeper into the reports, a sudden, thunderous explosion shook the floor beneath her. The very walls of the mansion trembled. Startled, Jessica leaped from the bed, her pulse pounding in her ears. She dashed toward the balcony adjoining her room, pushing open the French doors to step out into the cool evening air.

Her gaze was drawn to a column of smoke rising in the distance, illuminated by an ominous glow of flames. It seemed to be several blocks away, but the sheer magnitude of the blaze was alarming.

"What on earth..." she whispered, her breath forming a faint mist in the night air.

As she stood there, trying to process the scene unfolding before her, a vibration in her hand drew her attention back to the phone. The screen displayed a new message from Idris.

[Found him. Going to the mansion.]

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