thirteen

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Checking my phone for the fifteen fucking thousandth time I still see no reply from Maggie

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Checking my phone for the fifteen fucking thousandth time I still see no reply from Maggie.

It has been less than three hours of her being home alone and I am sick to my stomach thinking about what trouble she's gotten herself into. I press her contact one more time. It rings seven times before the automated message speaks. Hanging up angrily I leave my office and stride down to the car park.

Like always my employees go silent seeing me and all nod out of respect. Me being in my pissy mood which is rightfully so, I don't spare any a second glance. They are just my workers.

Getting into the car I speed out of the private lot and maneuver through traffic waiting to see what has gone on at my once peaceful home in the past three hours.

My mind makes up a million scenarios while I drive. One being that Maggie has just fallen asleep or that she left her phone in her room. The other being that she was taken and it was too late again.

I should've left the first time she didn't answer.

Slamming the car door of my expensive Porsche in the private parking section I rush into the elevator, trying so hard to not lose my fucking shit.

Take a deep breath.

The elevator ride is so painfully slow making me twitch in frustration. Has this thing always taken forever?

The ding sounds and not a second later the door opens to the hallway where at the end of it holds my penthouse apartment.

"Everything good?" I question the guards stationed away from the front door and closer to the elevator just in case bad people come up this way.

"Yes sir. Music has been playing since you left."

Music?

Nodding my head in understanding I continue over to the front doors. The closer I get the more confusion grows inside me. Sure enough just like the guard said the closer I get the louder the music blasts through the penthouse.

If she wasn't my Maggie she would be so dead right now. She constantly gets on my nerves. She's annoying and a lot of work. But I love her. She's my daughter. I love that she's annoying and a lot of work. I love that she gets on my nerves. She's my Maggie.

However in situations like this one, I have to constantly repeat that mantra in my head.

She's your Maggie. She's your Maggie.

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