The Honeycomb Diamond: Suspenseful Mystery Thriller

By Sara Stamford

When everyone wants something you have, and they will stop at nothing to take it.
 

Margarita had it all. Wealth, beauty, status, a loving husband. Or so she thought. In one fateful evening, several days after her husband's accident, she loses everything as her life is plunged into utter darkness. Taken hostage in her London townhouse by a ruthless gang appearing out of nowhere, Margarita is tortured and asked to divulge the location of her extraordinarily rare pink diamond.
 

After a most suspenseful escape, and under the pursuit of thugs who will stop at nothing to recapture her, she finally finds shelter in what she thinks is an oasis of safety--a secret organization called Honeycomb.
 

With her troubles seemingly over and protected by people who anticipate and fulfill her every desire and wish, Margarita falls into a rhythm of luxury and peace. But soon, clues begin to point at something far more sinister afoot. Slowly she realizes that the price for her freedom might be far more than she can afford.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sara Stamford
• Release date: Oct 12, 2022
• ISBN: 9781956642322

Book preview

1

Twenty past four. It was a dark November night. The rain kept beating against the window with a steady rhythm. Margarita opened her eyes, and the shadows from the outside trees came into focus against the white ceiling. She peered at the electronic clock on her nightstand. Sleep. Sleep. I need to go back to sleep.

Margarita adjusted her pillow, and as she did, she felt a dampness. The pillow was wet with tears. Whimpering like a lost puppy, she chewed on her blanket and continued to cry. She hadn’t cried that much since her daughter Lily died. Not even after the disappearance of her beloved husband. Was it the physical pain that conjured the tears to continually run down her cheeks, turning her pillow into a puddle? Was it a cry for help, despite knowing that help would never come? She wiped her eyes with her hands.

What will happen to me now? Death?

The thought of death made her wince. Something that she had been yearning for since her little girl died suddenly frightened her. Was the instinct for survival that had been hiding somewhere deep inside her for the last three years finally resurfacing? Her mind was exhausted. Her eyes ran out of tears. Her entire body felt numb. She had absolutely nothing left and eventually fell asleep. 

Margarita awoke with the sunrise. The curtains were not closed all the way, so she could glimpse the rainy morning through the window. Yet another cold and bleak day. She held her bandaged head and grimaced in pain, then slowly lifted herself up. The blood on the side of her left ear had seeped out and had created a crimson pool on the pillow. Margarita tried to get up, but she felt too weak and shaky. She collected all the strength left in her frail body and made a desperate effort to stand up. A small camera across from her bed detected her movements and began recording. She stood by the bed for a moment, then wobbled slowly across the room to the bathroom.

She locked the door from the inside and looked at her reflection in the mirror. A monster stared back at her. Her eyes filled with horror, and she couldn’t even blink. As a natural beauty, she had never lacked attention and compliments, but now, seeing herself disheveled with a black eye, a swollen lip, and a blood-soaked head bandage absolutely terrified her. She was a former model, a hot London socialite, but suddenly, she looked like a character in a horror movie. How could she not be appalled? No one had ever laid a hand on her—in fact, men worshiped her—yet there she was, battered and bruised with excruciating, lingering pain.

Margarita had moved to London with Viktor, her billionaire husband, twelve years prior. At first, it was an adjustment for them to find acceptance among the snobbish Brits. But they quickly made their way into the crème de la crème by making generous donations and paying exorbitant amounts for all kinds of charity gala events and private club memberships. Although there were plenty of Russians in London, Margarita and her husband had never really gotten along with them.

Viktor’s extravagant multimillion-dollar purchases created too much buzz. Margarita herself would also splurge millions on couture clothes, handbags, jewelry and dainty accessories. She picked her clothes on her own, never hiring an assistant or a stylist. She possessed a unique sense of fashion and put together outfits that always ended up with a million likes on social media. It was no wonder that she soon became a new fashion icon. All the major magazines put her on their covers, and all the famous designers invited her to attend their runway shows.

Viktor was notorious for buying the most exquisite and the most expensive diamonds in the world for his lovely wife. Margarita’s fondness for precious stones had developed in early childhood. Her father was a jeweler, and he sold all the extraordinary gemstones in Eastern Europe to the most affluent people.

She had quite the collection of little gem-studded animals of every kind imaginable: a bunny, a kitten, a bear, and many exotic birds and animals. As a birthday tradition, her father gave her one each year, until one fateful day when she was twelve. Suddenly, he passed away from a heart attack.

His partner took over the business, including all the money and gemstones, leaving Margarita and her mother without a dime. Her mother worked as a pediatrician with a modest salary, but she tried her best to give Margarita a happy childhood, raising her with love and care. Yet empty bottles of vodka kept accumulating, and there was nothing Margarita could do to make her mother stop. Margarita still dreamt of her dad often and cherished every gift that he had given her. After he passed, she never saw another diamond until she met Viktor.

As a successful businessman and international real estate developer, Viktor could afford to spend millions on beautiful and rare things. He and Margarita both loved the finer things in life. He was amazed by the knowledge that Margarita possessed about every precious stone and how she could so easily tell the difference between high-quality diamonds and those of poor grade with simply a glance. Their joint adoration of exquisite jewelry made them frequent visitors at Graff, Cartier, Van Cleef & Arpels, and many other high-end brands. And of course, Viktor was one of the best clients of Sotheby’s and Christie’s.

The sound of water running down the sink slowly pulled Margarita out of her memories and brought her back to the present. A sudden rush of intense heat enveloped her body. Margarita dabbed her face carefully with cold water, letting blood from the bandage run into the sink’s drain. With shaking hands, she pressed a damp towel to her forehead. She sat down on the floor and started opening drawer after drawer, looking for pain medication. She pulled out every pill bottle before trying to read the text on the prescription labels, but her eyes refused to process the words.

What are all these pills for?

She couldn’t recognize any of the names until she found Tylenol. She attempted to unscrew the lid, but she was too weak and could hardly hold the bottle. Finally, she managed to open it and shook it to get the pills out.

A dozen light pink and white diamonds fell into her palm.

What? Diamonds? In a pill bottle?

She peered at the stones as she traced her index finger over them to make sure that they were real, and she wasn’t hallucinating.

Then, a knock on the door startled her.

Are you alright in there? the deep voice behind the door asked.

Yes! I’m just washing my face, Margarita replied quickly.

Open the door! The man banged on the door repeatedly.

Hold on!

Margarita turned the water back on and anxiously opened the other pill bottles to search for more diamonds. She emptied them onto the floor. No more diamonds. She looked at the stones in her hand, unsure what to do with them.

The man kept slamming his fist against the door. If you don’t open up right now, I’m gonna break this fucking door! You hear me?

Margarita gripped the diamonds in her hand, frantically looking around for a place to hide them, before ultimately slipping them into her underwear. She adjusted her pajamas and opened the door.

There, she faced Mohamed. That was the name she had heard the others call him. He looked at her with his fierce deep-brown eyes. He had thick bushy eyebrows and a full head of wavy dark hair with a long beard. That was all she could see, as his mouth and nose were covered by a face mask. He was slightly taller than her, thick-boned, and stood with a hunched posture.

What the fuck were you trying to do? he yelled at her.

Nothing, I was trying to wash the blood off my face, Margarita said in a trembling voice.

Behind him, she noticed the boss sitting on the edge of the bed. Just like Mohamed, he had brown eyes, but that was where the similarity ended. He didn’t have a foreign accent and spoke very well with a Northern English tone. He was slim, a bit taller than Mohamed, with short hair and thin groomed eyebrows. The rest was hidden under his face mask. He approached Margarita, took her hand gently, and walked her back to the bed.

Is everything alright? the boss asked her softly.

I’m in pain, and I think I have an infection, she mumbled.

Mohamed stormed out of the bathroom with the empty pill bottles in hand. Look! She tried to kill herself! She tried to take all these pills!

No, I didn’t! I was looking for pain medication! Margarita wailed.

Did you find it? the boss asked, his voice remaining level.

No. Nothing strong enough. I don’t even know the names of some of those pills.

Did you take anything? he pressed.

No. Margarita shook her head.

Let’s go back to the bathroom, the boss commanded.

He pulled her toward the door. Mohamed leaped in front of them and kicked away all the empty pill bottles.

The boss sat on the edge of the bathtub and looked at Margarita. You need to throw up all the pills you took, he said, raising his voice.

I didn’t take anything. I swear. I’m telling you the truth. Margarita looked imploringly at him.

The boss made a gesture to Mohamed. Margarita knew that nothing would come out of her. She had endured so much physical pain over the past five hours. She was completely exhausted and didn’t know how much more torture she could take. Margarita had never broken a bone as a child, never had any accidents. Only once, some time ago, had she sprained an ankle. She had delivered her daughter via C-section, so she had nothing to truly compare with the pain she felt.

Mohamed held her head up as he poured water into her mouth from a glass. Margarita puked it up immediately. She coughed and choked while the boss sat on the edge of the bathtub and watched as Mohamed forced her to throw up. Each time Mohamed poured a full glass of water into her mouth, he would grab her hand and force her fingers down her throat. Her nails, even though they were short, managed to scratch her gums.

She raised her hand to indicate that she could purge on her own, so Mohamed stepped away. He seemed to enjoy watching her puke, unlike the boss. Margarita continued drinking more and more water as she kneeled on the cold floor with tears streaming down her face.

Come on, fingers down the throat! Or do you want me to stick mine? Mohamed laughed.

The boss fidgeted and turned his head away when Margarita started to retch again, and he left the bathroom just moments later. Margarita was terrified of being left alone with Mohamed. She saw his eyes crinkling, giving away the sadistic smile hidden underneath his face mask.

Margarita crouched with her head hovering above the toilet. She couldn’t drink any more water.

Don’t stop! Mohamed warned her.

Margarita leaned on the toilet seat, revealing a slight view of her breasts through her loose pajamas. Mohamed lowered his head to try to catch a glimpse.

She felt his creepy stare, and the notion of that filthy beast ogling her made her throw up again. After she finished, she took a sip of water, swished it around in her mouth, then spat it out. Her throat was sore and burning. Her shivering was accompanied by a throbbing pain in her head. Margarita clenched her jaw to stop her teeth from chattering. Her body couldn’t take it anymore, and she collapsed on the floor in a dead faint.

She couldn’t remember Mohamed carrying her to bed. She couldn’t remember the boss checking her pulse. And she couldn’t remember the doctor injecting her.

When Margarita opened her eyes next, she didn’t know what time it was. Again, she was in bed with the curtains open. It was still raining outside. Margarita turned and looked dolefully at the window.

She started praying to God. She asked for help, feeling embarrassed and ashamed because three years ago, she’d blamed Him for taking her daughter away. Now, she quietly asked God for mercy. For anything that could set her free: arrival of police officers, her house being set on fire, the boss feeling sorry for her and leaving. Her silent prayer was interrupted by footsteps approaching the bedroom. Margarita kept her eyes closed when the door opened. She didn’t know who it was, but they must have only looked around before leaving.

Margarita wanted to run away, but she couldn’t come up with a plan for how to do it. How would she escape from these gangsters who’d taken over her home? She was drowsy and dehydrated. Her mouth was dry, and her head felt heavy, although the pain seemed to be fading away. They must’ve injected her with Butorphanol, or something similar that made her numb.

She knew a lot about medicine, and only a few people were aware that she had been studying to become a doctor before she’d been approached by a modeling scout agent. That was when her life took a different turn: high-paying photoshoots all over the world, glamorous runways, fancy afterparties, and many new rich and famous friends.

That was how she met Viktor. They met at a fashion event after she had just broken up with her boyfriend, having no intention of starting a new relationship anytime soon. But meeting Viktor was something special. He was handsome, successful, and a true gallant gentleman. The full package. And she was taken by his confidence and magnetism. They fell for each other immediately.

Viktor would rent out an entire place just for the two of them to enjoy a romantic dinner. She loved all those splendid dinners in all the top restaurants around the globe. Often with rose petals covering the whole floor.

That was how he had proposed to her at a mountaintop restaurant in Tuscany, the new playground of billionaires. It was the most mesmerizing sunset with hues of light pink and orange. Clouds covered the sky, creating intricate shapes and shadows. Those colors would always be imprinted into her memory. The dinner was so outstanding that she could remember every dish, every flavor, the aroma of the meal, and the delicious dessert with white chocolate and cherries.

The memory fueled her hunger, or maybe she was hungry because she could smell something cooking in the kitchen. Her bedroom was filled with the aroma of Middle Eastern spices.

She glanced around the bedroom. It was still a mess. The torn books on the floor, overturned chairs, and the cut-up couch. They didn’t clean up anything.

Those bastards.

Once again, Margarita gazed out the window. Oh, she was so high, and she felt so light, practically weightless. She wished she could just float. Float in the air like a cloud and disappear through the window. Fly away like a ghost. Like a ghost.  

A ghost. Is that what I’m going to become? They’re going to kill me.

2

The smell of the food became even stronger. Margarita’s stomach was making disgruntled sounds. She was starving and very thirsty. It really bothered her that she didn’t know the names or effects of the pills she’d found in the bathroom. What if her husband was ill, and he hadn’t told her?

Margarita turned to the side and felt a few diamonds falling off from her underwear.

The diamonds!

She had forgotten about the discomfort from the stones being there. She reached down to tuck them under carefully, then began speculating further as to why her husband put them in that pill bottle. He used to tell her about every purchase he made. They would look at the gemstones together and smile, deciding what jewelry they would create. She had never seen those before, nor had he ever mentioned them to her.

Did he hide them from me? Or did he know that someone might break in and try to steal all the diamonds?

The stones were top quality, three to five carats each, meaning there were a few million dollars hidden in her underwear. Margarita couldn’t lie still, getting dizzy from all the thoughts running through her head and the unbearable thirst. A bitter, metallic taste in her mouth would not go away. She removed the blanket, slowly sat up on the bed, then tried to get up. The camera started recording a video. Margarita couldn’t feel her legs and fell back onto the bed.

The bedroom door opened, and the boss entered alone. He helped her to get under the blanket again.

"Stay in bed," he ordered her.

I’m thirsty. Her voice sounded thin and strained as if she were about to pass out.

Her face was pale, her eyes hanging half-open.

The boss looked at her with concern. He reached for a bottle of water on the floor.

Sit up, he said, helping her to hold the bottle.

Margarita sat up and quietly started to whimper. Surprisingly, she could still cry. A few tears streamed down her cheeks. She drank more water. The first sip tasted so good, but the second sip was even better. She was amazed that water could taste like the most delicious thing in the world, and she drank the whole bottle.

I’ll bring you food. Don’t move, the boss added, before walking away. He left the door open.

She heard the footsteps of someone approaching her bedroom.

Mohamed entered, carrying a tray with food. The boss tapped him on the shoulder and followed him in.

He cooked it for you, the boss said to Margarita.

Margarita was famished, but the thought of Mohamed cooking the food and staying in the room while she ate made her sick.

She was so weary that speaking required effort. You can leave it here. I’ll eat it later.

The tray held a bowl of porridge, fried eggs, and toast with a thin layer of spread.

No, you have to eat now, the boss insisted.

I can’t eat right now, she said wearily.

You must, because we need to talk. Please, eat to get some strength, and I’ll come back soon. The boss left the room, making a gesture to instruct Mohamed to stay with her.

Margarita looked at Mohamed with contempt. She didn’t want to eat food that was prepared by him, but she had no choice. She slowly tried to eat from the spoon as her hand trembled. Her lip was swollen, and it was painful to open her jaw. Mohamed watched her for a moment, then impatiently forced the spoon into her mouth.

It’s hot! Margarita screeched with her burnt throat.

Mohamed scooped more porridge with the spoon, moved it closer to her lips, and waited for her to blow on it before she swallowed it.

It was a very unfamiliar and strange feeling to be a hostage in her own house. She still thought that maybe it was a dream—rather, an absolute nightmare. How could it happen to her? It was such a cliché: wealthy people’s home gets broken into, and intruders take the woman as a hostage. Like Nicole Kidman in Trespass, like Jodie Foster in Panic Room, movies Margarita had seen so long ago.

Did she ever think that it’d be her one day? No, that thought had never crossed her mind. It certainly hadn’t crossed her mind that in one of the safest neighborhoods in London she would become a victim of burglary. But she had underestimated the risk and danger of being alone. She knew it was entirely her fault, with her carelessness and her inability to see a potential threat. She thought she would be safer having fewer people working for her.

Given the situation with the Covid-19 pandemic, she had assumed it was the right decision. One of Viktor’s friends had died from Covid, and another one was in the hospital in critical condition. So, Margarita arranged for the housekeeper to come twice a week, and she let go of her security team.

She had been relying only on the alarm system in her home. The company that installed the system did all the billionaires’ houses in London. She thought it would make a difference. Back before the pandemic, when Viktor was still around, they had an armed security team and a live-in housekeeper. But Margarita wanted to be alone, as she didn’t want to be bothered and questioned constantly about her well-being and how she was coping, plus all the annoying questions about her husband to which she had no answers. She didn’t know what had happened to him. She didn’t know anything. She could only guess.

Margarita was so submerged in her thoughts that she finished the bowl of porridge without realizing it.

Want some toast? asked Mohamed.

No, she mumbled.

The boss entered the room. Feeling better? he asked her.

A little bit.

Good.

I’d like to take a shower, Margarita requested.

The boss was slightly annoyed. He hesitated, then looked at Mohamed and nodded.

Alone, please. Take all the pills away. Take everything out of the bathroom. I don’t want anyone watching me, she insisted.

Can you stand up on your own? the boss asked her quietly.

Margarita slowly got up. She tried so hard to stand still, not letting her body rock back and forth.

Five-minute shower, the boss said firmly and left the bedroom.

Mohamad stared at her as she stood by the bed. A shiver ran up her spine as she felt his brown eyes following her.

You know, you still look hot, even with that black eye and messy hair. Kind of sexy, he laughed.

Margarita tried not to look him in the eyes as she headed to the closet. His remark just fueled her anger. But she knew she had to stay indifferent and say nothing in response.

Hey, where are you going? he shouted.

To get fresh clothes, explained Margarita.

All her clothes were on the floor. They’d emptied every shelf and every cabinet. She tried to spot some pants and a sweater in the pile of clothes. Mohammad watched her like a hawk as she dug through the clothes.

She found underwear and a bra, grabbed them quickly, and pulled out a pair of cashmere pants and a matching hoodie. She cradled the clothes in her arms and headed to the bathroom.

Mohamed followed her. Five minutes! he reminded her.

Margarita locked the door from the inside and put her clothes by the sink. She turned on the shower. Though Margarita was still dizzy and numb, she walked to the window and tried to open it. Suddenly, she recalled that all the windows were fixed in place. She saw a couple running outside and waved at them, trying to get their attention. But her window was too far up from them, so nobody noticed her.

Margarita stepped away from the window. The thought of breaking it and jumping crossed her mind. But that thought quickly faded away, as she was on the third floor. If she jumped, she would probably break her legs. And the window was probably bulletproof.

She removed her clothes, then looked at the diamonds