Wilting Rose

By Anoushka Jain

July 2nd 2016
WASHINGTON DC: Senator Abraham Salvadors presidential campaign is brought to a halt by the disappearance of his daughter and grandchildren.
FAIRFAX, VIRGINIA: Elite Team Captain Elizabeth Ronin finds herself stuck in a political conspiracy, trapped in a race against time. With time running short and bodies piling, Elizabeth now needs to choose between the safety of her loved ones and her duty

• Language: English
• Publisher: Partridge Publishing India
• Release date: Apr 21, 2017
• ISBN: 9781482889406

Anoushka Jain

Anoushka Jain is a 16 year old budding author, finishing high school in DPS RK Puram. She aspires to study literature and international relations after graduation. She actively participates in social service, debates as well as attends several public speaking forums.

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Copyright © 2017 by Anoushka Jain.

ISBN:       Softcover       978-1-4828-8941-3

                   eBook           978-1-4828-8940-6

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

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CONTENTS

Acknowledgments

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Epilogue

DEDICATION

To Maa,

Without whom,

This novel would’ve been just another idea on a laptop.

Virago

(n.) a strong, brave or warlike woman; a woman who demonstrates exemplary and heroic qualities.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

M y mother once told me a self-made human is a myth.

Millions of parables, people, and places make us who we are; just like a million words make a story. I cannot thank everyone who made this book possible, but I can try my very best.

Ma, for your constant support and quick sarcasm which Elizabeth and I seemed to have inherited in equal measure.

Dad, for your intense pampering and terrible jokes, and providing background music to my writing with your intensely horrific caterwauling.

Pranay, for your unwavering ability to deal with my hissy fits. You are the Quinn to my Elizabeth and majorly a beloved annoyance to my life.

Ullas bhai, my mentor. You have outdone yourself in duties in every aspect of your life, and have done more so as my brother. Thank you for reading the horrible first draft and not laughing at my face.

To perhaps the most supportive family one can ever be blessed to have- I would’ve been nothing today if not for the love I have received from you all. You have all taken the role of parent, mentor, editor and support system at once and somehow excelled in all of them.

To my extraordinary friends- Harshita, Shivangi, Arushi, Vikramaditya and everyone else- for your constant advice, patience, faith, rebukes as well as for your bribes and constant teasing. You have no idea what you all have inspired and I am forever grateful.

Marian Fidel and Pohar Baruah, for not strangling me every time I delayed submission, as well as constant encouragement at every step.

And for all those kids who watched spy movies and pretended to be agents, kicking goons and knocking off vases instead.

This is for you.

PROLOGUE

D ear Mom,

I am sorry.

I am really sorry I have to do this, to adopt such methods of desperation and I’m sorry, hurting you was not what I wanted, but I cannot deal with this anymore. I cannot deal with the stress, the hate and the broken hopes. I cannot do this to myself anymore. By the time you read this, I shall be gone, with my children, the only hope of joy in my life. Do not try and find us; by the time you attempt to call someone, we shall have disappeared. I’m sorry. If we’re lucky, our bodies shall float into the abyss, and you shall be able to give us the funeral we deserve.

I’m sorry.

I love you.

Rosalyn.

Uh, oh. Poor Rose. His voice echoed with his laughter as he set the letter down, Guess you finally got your lesson.

Chapter 1

"P lease explain to me why we’re handling a missing person/suicide case."

The tall brunette frowned, her snowy skin wrinkling as she looked at her boss. The headquarters bustled with activity; phones rang, fax machines whirred as she sprung to her feet, heels sharply clicking on the linoleum, her arms crossed across her chest.

Damien Montrego sighed, looking much older than his 45 years at that moment, as he looked at the stubborn woman glaring at him with piercing hazel eyes. Because, Madame Ronin, this is no ordinary missing person’s case. The screen flashed with a face. Soft blonde hair complimented the golden eyes set in her honey face. Her cheeks, covered with tiny wrinkles, lit up with beautiful dimples. Our victim Damien’s voice brought her to reality, Rosalyn Salvador.

Let me guess, Supermodel? Millionaire? Married to a Millionaire? Wait wait, no, haven’t I heard Salvador before? What was that- Vampire Stories?

Let me guess, another TV soap actor I’m supposed to know?

No, Elizabeth. Diaries! It’s Diaries! "She’s a scientist actually. Yet she holds quite some… Let’s just say power. She is the one and only daughter of Abraham Salvador. Senator Abraham Salvador. You may know him as one of the prime candidates for the republicans."

Oh god. A shudder of revulsion and dread shook through her body as she understood the repercussions of what he was implying. Rosalyn Salvador’s story would be converted into a political drama, her life a political symbol, something the Media will have a field day with, and the world shall yet again be subjected into the theatrics of a non-existent situation, where the sympathy shall manifest into a mere vote bank. ‘Of course.’ The dry epiphany ran through her head ‘Of course this was so near the damn elections’

Alright, Damien. What do you need me to do?

Ϫ

"The letter is written in Blood?!" Allison Raymond’s olive face paled, her brown eyes