RED NOTES AND KISSES
Chapter 126: FRIDA - 126

Chapter 126: FRIDA: Chapter 126

Frida tossed and turned in her bed, the steady drip of the IV filling the echoinh silence.

Her dreams where nothing but fever crisis confusing andfragmented, filled with faces that swirled in and out of focus—Evelyn, Laz, Delancie, and even Pierre’s smirk.

She opened her eyes slowly to the blinding room light, her body was achinf so badly the bed seemed more like hell than comfort, as though the saline had only added more toxicity to her veins, leaving her poisoned.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand, the screen glowing with Delancie’s name, that’s true...what happened to delancie that day? She never came, never called... Frida hesitated before answering, her voice coming out deep from the cold she was suffering. "What?"

"What up you still alive ?" Delancie’s voice was sharp but carried a hint of concern.

"What’s up? You left me to die?" Frida groaned, her head throbbing at the reminder. "The fuck is wrong with you Delancie?"

"I’m sorry I was preoccupied by something." Delancie said taking a drag of her cigarette as Chelsea pointed a gun directly at her on laz’s command to shoot if she spilled any valid information.

"Did someone show up at your parents party?" She asked.

"That’s what you called for?" Frida fumed picking up a glass of water from the side table and drinking from it.

"Yes." She said straight forwardly as Laz signalled her to wrap it up with the spin of his finger.

"No one really only a likely fiance and some guy named Pierre who was at the fancy French restaurant we ate at." Frida said rubbing her forehead.

"Yes Pierre, you should stay away from him his dangerous. Pierre’s appearance wasn’t a sudden think. He’s been sniffing around for something, and I thought you should know."

Frida sat up slowly, wincing as the IV tugged at her arm, an unforgiving headache pounding at her flesh. "How do you know that? What do I have that he could possibly want?"

"What does any man in that circle want? Leverage. Power. Control." Delancie paused, her tone shifting. "You need to be careful. No one there is a friend or an ally they are only there to use you as a stepping to get what they want."

Frida’s grip tightened on the phone she gritted her teeth. "Like you did obviously ." She glanced at her reflection in the vanity mirror, her blonde hair was a mess from her restless sleep . "Thanks for the warning, but I’ve got this."

"Do you?" Delancie’s doubt was palpable. "You should leave that place immediately, because from where I’m standing, you’re walking right into a trap."

Frida’s hands trembled slightly she was nervous. "I’ll handle it."

Delancie sighed accepting defeat. "Fine. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you."

The line went dead, and Frida tossed the phone onto the bed. She gently pulled the IV needle out, not bothering to bandage the small puncture, she only used a dry swab to clean up the tiny blood.

Her mind was racing. Who was Pierre and what was his motive, what was his angle? And how deep was Evelyn’s involvement?

She walked into the bathroom feeling extremely weak, splashing cold water on her face. She sighed as the coldness hit her she needed it right now.

She couldn’t let Evelyn or Pierre manipulate her any further. If she was going to survive this, she needed information. And she was going to find some!

---

An hour later, Frida found herself outside Greg’s dingy apartment, dressed incomplete disguise so she wouldn’t be recognized.

Greg was the only computer genius she knew in Vegas and she needed his help desperately.

She knocked twice her heart in her throat, she looked around nervously hoping he’d answer quick, before the door creaked open, revealing Greg’s disheveled figure. His dark eyes widened in surprise, scanning her from head to toe, she had forgotten he was a bit of a pervert.

"Blonde, huh? Is this a cry for help or a new trend?" he asked, leaning against the doorframe with a def smirk on his face.

Frida pushed past him into the cluttered space. "I need your help."

Greg closed the door hands in his pocket, watching her warily . "Be my guest come-on in, You’ve got a funny way of asking." He said looking very tired for his young age of 24.

She turned to face him, her expression serious. "My mother’s up to something, and I think it involves some guy named Pierre’s. I need you to find out what they’re planning."

Greg raised an eyebrow, took out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lit it "You gonna pay for that cause I think, you think I’m some kind of spy."

Frida opened her bag and tossed some cash on the table.

"I think you’re resourceful and have connections I don’t, that’s why I’m here," Frida shot back impatiently "And you owe me."the apartment was unforgivably warm and clammy in dim yellow light, it was stuffy with an odd smell. To top it off he smokes...ew.

"Owe you?" Greg laughed dryly." Nahhhh I burned that bridge the moment you rejected that date with me?"

Frida’s fists clenched. "Are you serious? That was years ago and I can see you’ve been..."she glanced at the empty condom packet on a random panty on the ground.

Greg’s smirk faltered, and he crossed his arms releasing a trail of smoke into the air tight room. "Fine. What do you want me to do?"

"Dig into him for me. Find out who he is, why he’s here and what he’s got on Evelyn, and what he wants from me." She paused. "And if you can, figure out who the fuck I really am."

Greg frowned picking up a bottle of opened beer and taking a swing. "What are you talking about?"

Frida hesitated, the weight of Evelyn’s words from the night before pressing down on her, weighing her down if Shelly was Evelyn’s real daughter or worse if Frida is the name of Evelyn’s real daughter and Frida was Shelly herself. "Evelyn... I’m not sure I’m her real daughter. she said she replaced her dead child with me."

Greg’s s face softened. "Frida..."

"Don’t." She held up a hand, cutting him off, she didn’t need to be weak right now "Just do this for me. Please."

He studied her for a moment before nodding tossing his cigarette on the floor "Alright. But you owe me big time for this."

Frida managed a faint smile glad she had a starting point that she wasn’t floating in damn circles or basically stuck in a wheeless car. "Deal."

---

Back at the mansion, Frida sneaked in through the back door, moving quickly to avoid being noticed. For once, it seemed luck was on her side. She slipped into her room unnoticed, locking the door behind her. Sitting on the edge of her bed, she felt a faint glimmer of hope as she pulled out her phone.

She scrolled through her contacts, though she knew there was no way his number would be there. Then she remembered the card he had given her—a card she’d inexplicably saved in her purse after their last encounter. Now, it felt like a lifeline.

With a deep breath, she typed in the number and pressed the call button.

He answered on the second ring, his voice smooth and smug. "Frida. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"How did you know it was me?" she asked, glancing around nervously as her heart pounded in her chest.

"Relax, little bird. I don’t bite," he replied darkly.

"Who are you, and what do you want from me?" Frida demanded, trying to steady her voice.

He chuckled. "Straight to the point. I like that."

"Answer me."

"I’m Pierre. A multi-billionaire," he began, his tone dripping with mockery. "Laz offended me by being a bitch, so I plan to return the favor by fucking his bitch... in a wedding dress." His voice was laced with such pure excitement that Frida shivered.

There was a pause before he spoke again, his tone shifting to something more serious. "I’m here because that woman you call a mother owes me a fortune. And I think you might be the key to getting what I’m owed. I might as well take you while I’m at it."

Frida’s stomach churned as fear clawed its way up her spine. "What does that mean?"

"It means, darling, that you and I have more in common than you think. And if you’re smart, you’ll work with me instead of against me," he said, his smirk audible through the phone. "I’m your perfect enemy. There’s no need to make an enemy out of me."

"Why should I trust you? I don’t even know you," Frida said, her confusion palpable.

Pierre laughed coldly. "Trust me? No, Frida. You shouldn’t trust anyone. But you’ll find that aligning with me is far less dangerous than staying under Evelyn’s thumb. I can give you everything you want... I can set you free from her. All you have to do is be mine."

"Is that all?" she asked hesitantly.

"Oh no," he replied, his tone turning icy. "You see, I also want Laz dead."

The words hit her like a slap, leaving her in stunned silence. But before she could respond, the line went dead.

----

Frida woke up to an irritating knock on her door, the sound only worsening her pounding headache. She was certain the stress and indulging in too much "snow" were to blame.

She groaned in exhaustion, her eyes scanning for a painkiller. The IV drip she had yanked from her arm hung limply beside her, as if mocking her stubbornness. Well, screw it—she wasn’t anyone’s charity case.

"Frida, open this damn door!" Evelyn’s sharp, impatient voice cut through the haze of her fever, as though preparing for battle.

Frida ignored her, staring blankly at the ceiling as beads of sweat rolled down her forehead. Her heart raced, her body weak—not just physically, but emotionally. Evelyn’s looming threats echoed in her mind. If she lost medical school, what would she do? Could she really start over, build a whole new life from scratch?

The door burst open with a force that made Frida flinch, surprised it didn’t fly off its hinges. Evelyn stormed in, her gaze narrowing as it landed on Frida’s disheveled state.

"What kind of immature, disgraceful stunt are you pulling now? Do you have any idea how humiliated I was downstairs when you fainted during your proposal?" Evelyn’s words dripped with venom.

Frida let out a bitter laugh, her voice hoarse from dehydration. "Oh, I’m sorry. Did my little episode ruin your big night? How unfortunate. I fainted, Mother. Guess why? Because I’m bloody sick and you’re forcing me to marry a stranger!"

Her sarcasm was cutting. "You’d think a doctor would know better. Are you even really one?"

Evelyn’s jaw tightened. She marched to the IV stand and grabbed Frida’s arm roughly.

"Let go!" Frida shouted, struggling to free herself.

Evelyn’s glare deepened. "No! If you want to play sick, you’d better play it right!"

Frida wrenched her arm free, glaring at Evelyn in disbelief. "Are you serious right now?"

Evelyn flung the IV aside. "You’ve embarrassed this family enough. Clean yourself up and come downstairs now. Mr. Hemsworth is waiting for an apology."

Frida sat up slowly, her head spinning. Anger boiled inside her. She met Evelyn’s gaze with a defiant smirk. "Tell Mr. Hemsworth to wait a little longer. Maybe forever. Better yet, tell him to find someone else to marry his idiot, dimwitted son."

Evelyn’s slap came faster than Frida could anticipate, the sting burning across her cheek.

"You slapped me?" Frida gasped, holding her face.

"You ungrateful brat," Evelyn hissed. "Everything you have, everything you are, is because of me. Do not forget that. I can take it all away in the blink of an eye."

Frida’s fingers trembled as tears welled in her eyes. "Everything I am? No, Mother. Everything I am is despite you. I’m the child you never wanted."

Evelyn’s face hardened, her fury palpable. "Fine. Throw your tantrum. But remember this: without me, you’re nothing. You’ll come crawling back."

With that, Evelyn stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

Frida sat in the suffocating silence, her chest heaving. She had forgotten how monstrous Evelyn could be behind closed doors.

Her mind raced. She couldn’t stay here anymore. She had to leave before Evelyn did something worse.

Grabbing her phone, she hesitated before dialing Laz’s number. Tears blurred her vision as the line rang.

"Come on, pick up," she muttered, her voice cracking.

When it went to voicemail, she cursed under her breath, her fingers hovering over his name. She didn’t want to call him, but she needed him.

Swallowing her pride, she hit redial.

"My love," Laz answered smoothly, his calm voice like a balm. "I was expecting your call."

"I need you," Frida sobbed, her body trembling.

Laz sighed. "That’s all I needed to hear, love. I was this close to breaking into your parents’ house."

"Please, come get me," Frida pleaded.

"No need to ask twice. I’ll be there by sunrise."

The line went dead before Frida could respond.

She grabbed a small suitcase, stuffing it with clothes and essentials. She couldn’t risk staying here any longer.

As she zipped the bag, a faint knock at the window startled her. Heart pounding, she turned slowly, syringe in hand, ready to defend herself.

But when she saw a familiar face peeking through the glass, she froze.

"Laz?" she whispered, rushing to open the window.

He climbed in carefully, his clothes torn and face bruised.

"You’re here," she choked out, tears streaming down her face.

"Miss me?" Laz teased with a weak smile.

Frida threw her arms around him, relief flooding her as she felt his warmth. "Where have you been? I’ve been so worried!"

Laz winced but didn’t pull away. "Long story. Had to deal with some nuisances."

Frida pulled back, her hands gripping his shoulders. "What do you mean? What happened?"

"Turns out we’re in a bigger mess than we thought," Laz said, running a hand through his messy hair. "If we don’t get out soon, we’ll feel the burn. And it’ll leave scars."

Frida’s stomach churned. "This is all my fault. If it weren’t for me—"

"Don’t," Laz interrupted firmly. "This isn’t your fault. Delancie and your mother are playing their twisted game. We just got caught in the crossfire. I’ll fight for you, Frida. I swear it."

Frida nodded, her resolve hardening. "We have to stop them. Whatever they’re planning, we can’t let them win."

Laz smirked despite his injuries. "Now that’s the Frida I know. What’s the plan?"

Frida’s lips curled into a dangerous smile. "First, we’re going to crash this engagement party. Then, we’re going to destroy them, one by one—especially my so-called mother."

Laz grinned. "Now that’s a plan I can get behind."

With his help, Frida climbed out the window, her suitcase in tow. There was no turning back now.