#PENALTY WebNovel: Chapter 13

EVERYTHING that led to the unconscious sleep that the beautiful, energetic Beya sunk into played right before VeShadd’s memory eyes.

And Tai VeShadd shivered terribly, where he sat beside Beya’s motionless frame.

Everything he did to Beya dawned on him like an overwhelming reality that it was.

He stood up to take a closer look at the sleeping beauty and he staggered all over.

The young man held onto the wall for stability. But even his hold wasn’t enough to stop his athletic frame from collapsing.

VeShadd gazed at the dense, luxury vase of a limited edition with which he’d smashed Beya’s head with.

It was sitting dignified on the drawer stool furniture beside the elegant king sized bed.

VeShadd suddenly noticed that the long, thin crack within the inner trunk wasn’t there anymore.

He was stunned.

He lifted the vase closer to his eyes and stared at it with a surprised gaze.

The young man put down the vase, drew nearer and looked closer.

It was only then it dawned on the sportsman that the rare masterpiece had been replaced with an imitation.

Just so the crime incident could be covered up.

In one moment, VeShadd glanced at the imitation and then at the unconscious young woman.

He couldn’t help staggering back as his lower limbs weakened at once.


Within seconds, the sportsman was already on the bare floor.

In the executive hotel suite turned a VIP hospital ward.

‘How… how did I forget all these?’ VeShadd stuttered in a trembling voice; his hands and feet shuddering in shock.

He couldn’t believe he closed his eyes in the past weeks to the gravity of what he did to Beya; the atrocities he committed.

For, all the young sportsman could think about in the whole while was getting himself out of the pit he’d dug for himself.

And now that the puzzles in his head had come together to form a haunting whole piece, VeShadd could hardly bear himself.

‘Aargh, I raped Beya and still violently hit her!’ VeShadd cried, kneeling on his hands and knees.

‘Aargh, I put my very Godsend in coma!’ he groaned with anguish.

VeShadd clenched his both fists and began hitting the marble tiled floor in unspeakable agony of soul.

‘How could I be fine after doing this?’ he lamented tearfully. ‘How? How? Just how?!

‘Just how did I get myself to this stage? When did I turn to this monster? Ah, how did I you get yourself here, VeShadd?!’

Tears flowed down his swollen face and blood dripped from his cramped, aching fingers.

Suddenly the doors flung open with a forceful thrust.

A tear drenched VeShadd raised his head immediately; terrified he’d been caught by whatever third party was coming in.

He realised he still feared being found out as the culprit. He realised he even still dreaded it.

The sportsman crouched low into a corner in unspeakable fright and held his blood stained arms to cover his face.

The figure sprinted in with an athletic gait, his dark silhouette asserting its presence as it stayed for a second in the doorway.

And then, the man closed door behind him and spoke with a deep toned, masculine voice.

‘It’s me, Vee. It’s okay.’

VeShadd heaved a heavy sigh of relief.


‘Ah, Coach!’ he breathed as he rushed to meet Alhi for solace.

He was grateful the third party wasn’t an intruder after all.

Coach Alhi was tasked with the work of keeping a close eye on VeShadd during the World Cup.

In order to shield the ace footballer from the unpleasant reality that could affect his performance.

The coach was bent on saving VeShadd from anything but football.

And so was the World Union.

VeShadd ran into the chief coach and broke down in tears again.

Alhi gently patted him on the back.

‘It’s okay, champ. It’s okay.’


Beya’s father sank tiredly in a couch in his living room.

He’d paced up and down the elegant styled living room for about half an hour and the tensed Barrister Jan’il was quite exhausted by now.

He’d administered some sleeping pills to his wife and she was fast asleep in the master bedroom already.

Mrs Jan’il, an accomplished civil engineer, was the gifted hand that wrought quite a number of new ultramodern roads and bridges in the Central Region of Quitalia.

Yet the gifted mind of such a genius engineer which masterminded those grand works had always been vulnerable to clinical depression.

And Mr Jan’il had been quite so there in managing his wife’s condition.

He’d also taken it upon himself to give his fragile wife the healthiest environment he could provide.

The chief surgeon that operated on Beya had told the Jan’ils that their daughter’s chance of waking from coma is on the very high side.

He’d added that it was only the time the patient would come awake that was uncertain.

Mr Jan’il took the news as good enough. He trusted that his daughter would certainly wake.


He was only worried that Beya’s assaulter may go scot-free. He was pained beyond words that his only daughter wouldn’t get the justice she deserved.

Barrister Jan’il heaved helpless sighs a countless number of times in the past half hour.

And now, the middle aged human rights lawyer let out a final sigh. One of resignation and surrender.

‘Aargh, this is too big of a mountain for me!’ he breathed.

There was a sudden, hard knock on the door.

Mr Ja’nil sat up at once. His heart dashed into a heated race.

After thinking of fighting for his daughter, the accomplished advocate had come to realise that the threats he’d got and the document he was force to sign could just be the beginning of a brewing trouble.

Mr Jan’il had concluded there might be more hard punches to come from the perpetrator and his backup.

And what was more important at the moment was surviving.

Now with the sudden knock on his door, the middle aged barrister could guess the brewing trouble was there already.

The knock continued incessantly as Mr Jan’il cowered in his seat.

He mustered some courage after a little while.

‘Yes, who is there?’ he asked aloud.

The voice behind the door was that of a man.

‘It me, big bro. It’s Kansi.’

Mr Jan’il jumped to his feet immediately.

‘Is anyone with you?’ he asked; lowering his already shaky voice a little.

Kansi chuckled. ‘Of course not. Please let me in, bro; I’m thirsty!’

Mr Jan’il let out a sigh of relief. And then, he went for the door and let his guest in.

Kansi entered; his burdened shoulder hanging down the weight of a dust stained leather bag by the aid of its strap.

The twenty-nine-year-old sprinted across the living room to the water dispenser sitting at the dining.

He picked off a glass for himself and then served himself some ice cold water.

‘My throat is dry, brother – and so is the world now!’ he gasped as he poured himself a glass. ‘There’s absolutely no news story for someone like me at this time!’

The investigative reporter working for the big Megaphone Newspaper had just come to an unwilling admittance.

That the ongoing World Cup period was the least of all time to find a controversial story. Especially for the fact their nation was even the host of the world event.

Kansi was frustrated.

But the journalist was even more frustrated by the fact that he needed a controversy so bad for his oncoming promotion.

Kansi heaved a sigh of resignation and gulped down his entire glass.

But then, the 150 cl cup of water wouldn’t quench the young man’s burning thirst.

So, he poured himself some more and resumed talking while he was at it.

‘By the way,’ he said, ‘what took you so long in opening the door for me? You see, I almost died of thirst out there under our desert sun!’

The young man took his full glass and gulped down the second cup.


And then, he poured himself a third, walked over to the living room and sat himself beside his host.

He placed the full glass of water on the side stool.

He turned to Mr Jan’il.

‘How is my sister, big bro?’ he asked. ‘I checked on her at her office yesterday. I hope my big sis is fine.’

Kansi liked to call Mr and Mrs Jan’il his big bro and big sis. Even though he wasn’t related to any of the two.

Mr Jan’il replied. ‘She’s fine. She’s taking a nap at the moment.’

Kansi warmed up with an eager smile.

‘And my little Beya? How’s she? It’s been a while since I saw her… Maybe she can even give me scandals on idols she doesn’t like anymore, uh?’

Mr Jan’il let out a burdened grunt.

Kansi continued talking.

‘Brother, you see, I hate this sort of period, when everyone looks at only one direction at the same time.

‘Everything about the world right now is the World Cup.

‘Even the most scandalous entertainment celeb is engrossed in watching the matches. They don’t even find the luxury of time to create a mess!’

Mr Jan’il glanced at Kansi and flashed a faint smile.

Kansi went on. ‘No one up there is committing a crime these days.

‘Yet my boss is asking for a heartbreaking exclusive for my promotion… when the world itself is one hundred percent boredom!’

Mr Jan’il sighed.

But the sigh was born out of his own heavy burden and not that of Kansi.

Kansi warmed up to him in a moment. ‘Oh that reminds me, bro! You’re a human rights lawyer; have you got a big stuff at all?

‘Maybe anything you’re working on at the chambers and you want me to blow up in the news!’

Mr Jan’il only sighed.

‘Of course I know you won’t have any case at the moment,’ Kansi put in. ‘It’s this time of the year that you have your annual leave and stay away from everything work.’

Kansi picked up the glass of water from the side stool. ‘Ah, I must’ve been so desperate for a news story! So sorry, big bro!’

He gulped down the glass and put the cup down.

‘I’m so exhausted!’ he yawned; closing his eyes as he reclined himself in the arm chair where he sat.

Mr Jan’il glanced at Kansi.

The idea of using a journalist for his own case suddenly made absolute sense. He’d only signed off the case. Not the story.


He was forced to sign to never sue; to never take the case to court.

But then, he never signed to not share the story with someone else.

Mr Jan’il spoke for the first time in a long while.

‘What if I’ve got a really big scandal for you, Kansi? One that concerns the World Cup itself…

‘Will you be able to cover it?’

Kansi’s eyes popped open.

» Click HERE to See Other Chapters of the Free Suspense WebNovel Penalty

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