The guys and Clarrise were left to stare at the empty staircase, a collective frown on their faces.
"He looks angry," Rowan said, breaking the silence with his usual bewildering brand of logic. "Did she hit him? No, wait, she ran away... maybe he yelled at her? And why was he wearing that outfit? Looked like he was going jogging."
Milo rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "While the outfit is indeed something that bothers me, in my professional view, it seems as though something... significant occurred. Miss Boss ran, the boss is in a state of disquiet... It’s a classic sign of an external influence causing internal disruption."
Clarisse was quiet, observing the scene with a placid expression. Gavin, however, had had enough. He stood up, a dark scowl on his face. "Get to work if you have free time to talk rubbish."
Rowan was immediately offended. "We are working!" He pointed at the laptop on his lap. "My duties were doubled for a reason!" He glared at him.
The others may not understand what was happening, but both of them did. Gavin had snitched to Hades that he was having fun with the Miss Boss. And now Rowan had more work time than breathing time.
Milo, not to be outdone, gestured to his own tablet. "And I am currently mapping out movements. We are professionals, Gavin. Unlike some people who cannot multi-task."
Gavin ignored them both. He simply turned and headed toward Hades’s room with a file in hand. He was the only one who could truly read the man’s moods, and he knew that there was trouble brewing somewhere. He wasn’t sure where or whom, but the fact that Hades had been rattled at all was enough to put him on high alert.
Something was about to break.
He knocked once on Hades’s door, then let himself in.
The room was dim, lit only by the flickering light from a muted television. Hades stood by the window, hands inside his pocket.
Gavin stood there for a moment before asking, quiet but firm, "Do we need to worry?"
"No." Hades answered without looking back.
"I can always get rid of her if you are too–"
Hades turned to look at him. "You aren’t assigned to Aurora." He reminded him.
"Got it!" Gavin said with a nonchalant shrug before passing the document to him. "We got something new on Priscilla. This is... new."
Hades looked at the file and raised a brow.
Meanwhile, Alice entered her room to find it pristine, almost suspiciously so. The shopping bags from every overpriced boutique they’d stopped at were neatly arranged along the wall like obedient soldiers. Soft leather, crisp paper, embossed logos all lined up, a quiet reminder of the day’s spree. The air smelled clean, like fresh linen, lavender, and money.
She didn’t take a second to appreciate how spotless everything was, or how ridiculously efficient the delivery people must’ve been to beat her home. She barely even noticed that someone had turned on the bedside lamp, casting a warm glow over the furniture like an apology.
Instead, she closed the door behind her and slid down against it like someone deflating. Her knees bent. Her spine curled. Her forehead dropped to rest against her arms.
What the hell had she done?
The words echoed loud in her mind, louder than the silence of the room. Her heart was still stumbling over itself in her chest, still replaying the sound of his voice, the cold in his eyes, the heat between them, the way her feet had carried her out before her brain caught up. His face. The blush.
She wanted him. Stupidly. Desperately. Dangerously. And then she’d run. Not because she didn’t want it. But because she did.
She sat there for a while, curled on the floor in her sneakers and expensive clothes, bags of luxury goods watching her like silent witnesses to her unraveling.
Then, her phone rang.
The sharp trill sliced through the silence, making her flinch. She blinked, dragged herself upright just enough to reach into her bag, and pulled out the device. Her heart stuttered when she saw the caller ID was an Unknown Number.
She frowned. No one else was supposed to have this number.
She hesitated, thumb hovering over the screen, her gut twisting with unease. Then slowly, warily, she took the call.
There was silence on the other end. Not static. Just... breathing. Faint. Hesitant.
"Hello?" Alice whispered, her voice cautious.
Then, a whisper came.
"Is... that you, Alice?"
She froze. Her stomach dropped so fast it felt like falling down an elevator shaft. That voice. No. It couldn’t be.
"Paula?" she said, the name exploding from her throat before she could stop it, half shock, half disbelief, all adrenaline. She was already on her feet, heart in her mouth.
Soft, stifled sobs filtered through the speaker. "Thank God," Paula whispered between sniffles. "Thank God I finally got through. I’ve been trying for ages, Alice. I—I thought maybe I’d never get it..."
Alice pressed the phone tighter to her ear, glancing toward her door, lowering her voice. "How... did you get this number?"
The thought of Paula stealing it from Priscilla sent a fresh wave of dread through her.
There was a rustling sound on the other end, followed by a shaky breath. "That day... the last day we talked," Paula whispered. "When Priscilla gave me the phone to speak with you briefly. I—I memorized the number. I missed one digit, but I kept trying. One number at a time. Every few nights."
Alice’s mind reeled. "Wait. Paula, does anyone know you’re doing this? Whose phone are you even using?"
A pause. Then: "Priscilla doesn’t know. She’s on a business trip now."
Alice exhaled. That explained the window of opportunity.
"It’s one of the cleaners," Paula continued, voice low. "She gives me her phone whenever she’s doing rounds near the apartment. I’m hiding in the utility closet now—the one where they keep the brooms and disinfectants."
Alice’s blood ran cold.
Alice clutched the phone tighter, her heart aching at the sound of Paula’s voice. Fragile, trembling, but there. The image of her best friend huddled in a dark, cramped closet, risking everything just to make a call, was a punch to the gut. "Paula... I miss you so much..." Alice’s voice broke. She usually didn’t consider herself weak, but hearing her best friend’s voice, the person she’d always worried about, was too much. "I’m so sorry I put you in this mess–"
"Don’t worry about me, okay?" Paula said in a rushed whisper. "I’m fine. Really. I just wanted to hear you... to know you’re safe. You’re the one taking a big risk. I know Priscilla must be unbearable, but she’s keeping her promise. I am okay."
Alice’s throat thickened. She didn’t realize she had started crying until a tear slipped down her cheek. She wiped it away quickly, her voice shaking. "Paula..."
"I saw a photo of Vivian," Paula went on, words tumbling out faster now. "She’s still unconscious, but she looked better. There was more color in her face. She may wake up soon." She sniffled.
Alice closed her eyes, overwhelmed by the mix of relief and guilt that punched through her. She was about to ask something when a sudden knock echoed from Paula’s end. It was sharp, insistent.
Then a woman’s voice, faint but clear: "Paula? Are you in there?"
Alice stiffened. Her heart leapt into her throat.
Paula’s voice dropped to a desperate whisper. "I have to go. The cleaner said she’d only be five minutes. Please, Alice, stay safe, okay? That’s all I needed to hear. I... I just wanted to let you know that—"
Another knock. Louder this time.
"...that Priscilla... has a son she’s hiding..."
Alice blinked, confused. "W-Wait... whatt?"
Alice put that information at the back of her mind first as she called desperately out,
"Wait... Paula, wait!" Her voice cracked with urgency. "Do you know someone named Caroline Cresswell? Paula!"
But the line suddenly went silent. No static. No goodbye. Just gone.
Alice stared at her phone screen, breathing hard, chest rising and falling rapidly. Her hand shook as she lowered the phone. She didn’t get the chance to ask Paula that. Or really ask her how she was to make sure she wasn’t lying to make her feel better.
She received a message immediately from the same number. It was a photo. There was a young guy. 20s. He seemed to be speaking with someone but only he was in the frame. He was in some sort of formal setting. Suits. He wore an earring. He was good looking, brown hair, grey eyes, if she got it correctly from the side view.
He looked like someone who knew exactly who he was.
He... was Priscilla’s son?
But Priscilla had no son.
What was this new puzzle and where does it fit in?