I clenched my fists under the table, nails digging into my palms. My heart pounded loudly in my ears. I took in a sharp breath and looked the reporter dead in the eye. “Is that your idea of journalism? Dragging a woman through her lowest moments and calling it a question?”

A hush fell over the room. Even the camera crew paused, unsure whether to keep going.

I leaned forward, my voice calm but cold. “Yes, I went through a messy divorce. Yes, I lost my temper. But I didn’t lose my mind. What I did lose was the fear of being judged for being human.”

Someone cleared their throat in the back, but no one interrupted.

“I stepped away for personal reasons, but I’m back because I believe in Demarco’s. I have strong faith in what we’ve built—and what we can build. If you think a viral clip of my weakest moment defines my capability, maybe you’re the one unfit for your job.”

The lead reporter blinked, caught off guard by my rebuttal. “I’m sorry if I sounded rude. We didn’t mean to offend you Miss Demarco", He stuttered.

“But you did,” I cut in. “Let this be the last time my personal life overshadows the work I’ve done and what I’m here to do. I believe this interview is over.”

I stood, ignoring their polite attempt to salvage the moment. My heels echoed across the floor as I walked out.

Back in my office, I shut the door behind me and finally exhaled. I walked over to the window and watched the city move below.

The door creaked open slightly. Victoria, my personal assistant, peeked in.

“Ma’am, are you okay?”

I nodded slowly. “Better than I’ve been in months.” The truth is since my videos broke out of the internet, I have been walking on an eggshells but I felt light like a heavy burden was lifted from my chest.

“Do you want me to get anything for you?”

I turned to her, my heart melting at her kindness.

“No. But thank you for asking.”

Just then, Gracias walked in. Victoria gave her a small bow and stepped out.

“I’m so proud of how you handled that,” Gracias said, hugging me tightly and patting my back.

“Don’t let them trigger you. They’re waiting for you to slip, just so they can run wild with the narrative they’ve already created.”

“It’s all good. How’s everything?” I asked, steering the conversation away.

“Well, I went to Dawn Pearl’s house.”

“Dawn Pearl?” My eyes widened. “Sarah’s victim?”

“Yes. Please, I'm thirsty,” she said, sinking into a seat opposite me.

I grabbed a Styrofoam cup and walked to the water dispenser.

“I found her address and visited, but unfortunately, she wasn’t there.” she continued.

“Oh…” I mumbled, handing her the cup.

“She moved out. No one knows where she went.” she added and gulped down the water.

“Damn,” my jaw clenched, I tucked a few strands of hair behind my ear.

“But her closest neighbor was willing to talk. She said Dawn once mentioned being scared for her life. She often went out in a face mask and baseball cap. The neighbor thinks she’s hiding from her loan shark she said she sold off her properties and left without telling anyone.”

Gosh… the news hit me hard. Could it be that Sarah was more evil than I think? I shuddered, how can I be friends with her for years and was almost blind to this evil side of hers.

“This isn’t looking good,” I murmured, biting my fingernail.

“I just hope she’s safe, wherever she is.”

Gracias shook her head. “I hope so too. Sarah is evil personified. Only the victim can say what truly happened. I sincerely wish we could find her.”

“What about the other one?” I asked, my curiosity piqued.

“Edward Jones?” Gracias reminded

“Yes.”

“The hospital he was checked into is his last known location. He relocated with his family to God-knows-where. His last post on Chatsnap was from his hospital bed.”

“Hmmm… This is getting interesting,” I said, exhaling sharply. A slow, furious fire began to burned within me. “I think I love a challenge.”

“ Don't worry, I paid someone to comb through the city—including the rural areas—to look for them. We should get positive news soon,” she assured me.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“For now? Nothing. Just focus on being the CEO of Demarco’s. You can’t afford to be distracted. You need to defeat Noel.”

“Speaking of Noel… I found something about him,” I said with a wide smile.

“Oh?” her eyes lits up, her lips curling into a sly smile.

“It’s almost lunch. Let’s talk over a cup of coffee. These walls have ears,” Gracias said, glancing cautiously around the corners of my office.

“I reserved a table for us at Geneva.”

“Perfect.” I picked up my car keys and handbag.

We walked out of my office and drove to the restaurant.

*******

We sat down at the fine-dining spot. I was mesmerized by the ambience of the eatery. the unique interior, the golden lighting, the calm music that serenades the atmosphere.

“Good afternoon, ma’am. Welcome to Geneva. What would you like?” the waitress greeted in a courteous manner.

“Oh, I’ll have ice cream and vanilla cake,” I said without bothering to check the menu.

“Any particular flavor?”

“Maybe vanilla as well.” I replied

“Ice cream?” Gracias raised a brow.

“Yes, I need more calories than I care to admit,” I grinned.

“Alright then... just coffee. Preferably scalding hot—I want to burn my tongue,” Gracias said, playfully.

Our order came right on time, the waitress placed it gently on the table.

Just as the waitress turned to leave, another staff member walked up to us.

“Ma’am, please don’t be offended—there’s a small issue,” she said, her voice slightly trembling. She looked visibly shaken.

“What’s going on?” I asked, my tone sharp.

“Someone else booked this table… and it's omission on our part, I could make arrangements for another table for you—” she stammered.

“Excuse me? I reserved and paid for this table this morning. We came before them and we’re already seated. Just reserve another table for them—it’s that simple,” Gracias snapped.

“He insists on this one,” the waitress said,her voice quivered. To my utter shock, she knelt down holding my foot.

“I’ll be fired if I can’t fix this. Please, ma’am, I’m begging you.”

“Fuck…” I muttered, seething. I wonder who the guest is that got her this scared.

“This is beyond unprofessional—and frankly, belittling. You’re willing to displease a loyal customer just because—”

“No, ma’am. It wasn’t intentional. Please… forgive me,” she pleaded, with tears filled eyes.

“Who’s that, anyway?” I asked, sceptically.

“It’s me,” a deep, familiar voice replied.

I turned, words struck at the back of my throat. my eyes trailing from his shiny black leather shoes to his well ironed trousers up to the broad shoulders.

And there was him.