Undercover Assassin

A loud groan echoed through the small apartment as Sophia stirred from her siesta. Hunger gnawed at her insides, leaving her weak and irritable. She hadn't eaten all day. Stretching her arms, she dragged herself out of bed and made her way to the parlor, where she found Isabella lounging on the couch, eyes fixed on her phone.

"Aah, babe, you're here," Sophia yawned loudly. "I'm starving. Do we have anything to eat?"

Isabella barely looked up. "Nothing, my dear. No clients today, so I couldn't buy anything."

Sophia clicked her tongue. "That's bad. Alright, I'll figure something out."

She dashed into the room, rummaging through her things.

Sophia and Isabella were two young, beautiful women trying to survive in the city. They had been best friends for years, sharing everything-except one thing. Isabella was a hairstylist, while Sophia, out of frustration and joblessness, had resorted to pickpocketing. Isabella disapproved and had tried countless times to talk her out of it.

"I swear, if you ever get caught, I won't bail you out. I don't have that kind of money," Isabella would warn.

But Sophia always had the same response. "Yet when I bring money, you eat, don't you?"

That evening, Sophia hit the streets. Her first stop was a hair salon where she spotted a young man leaning against his car. Smiling sweetly, she approached.

"Good day, fine man," she greeted, her voice laced with charm.

The man looked up, slightly amused. "Good day, young lady. How can I help you?"

"Nothing much," she said, twirling a strand of hair. "I just saw you from afar and thought you were really cute. I like you."

Before the conversation could continue, a beautiful woman emerged from the salon. The man immediately straightened up and hurried to grab her bags.

Sophia scoffed internally. So, he's just a driver. Without another word, she slipped away.

Minutes later, the car pulled off with the driver-Paul-and his boss, Miss Jasmine, inside. A short distance away, Paul reached for his phone, only to realize it was missing.

"Paul, are you trying to kill me?" Jasmine snapped as he swerved slightly.

"Sorry, ma, I just-" He paused, checking his pockets again. "I can't find my phone."

"Where did you keep it?"

"It was with me the whole time," he said, panic creeping into his voice.

Jasmine sighed in frustration. "I'll call it."

She dialed the number. It was switched off.

"Shit!" Paul cursed under his breath.