Joseph's office, usually alive with the endless shuffle of papers, ringing phones, and the low hum of case discussions, now lay eerily silent. The usual background noise—the distant chatter of officers, the soft scratching of pens against reports—had faded into an unnatural stillness. Even the clock's ticking, a sound often drowned out by the day's work, now echoed sharply through the room, amplifying the suffocating quiet.
Outside, the muffled honking of cars and the rush of the city provided a stark contrast. Yet, inside, the silence was deafening. Joseph shifted in his seat, his fingers tapping against the desk—a nervous habit he hadn't realized had resurfaced. His eyes flicked between the towering stack of unfinished reports and the door, lingering on the latter longer than he intended. With each passing second, the weight in his chest grew heavier.
His gaze drifted upward. The wall clock read 11:00 AM. His unease deepened. She was never this late.
David, lounging nearby with his legs casually stretched out, had been watching his friend's anxious behavior for the past twenty minutes. He finally decided to break the silence; his voice laced with mild amusement. "She's still not here, Joseph. I think something is off."
Joseph's fingers froze mid-tap. His lips parted slightly, but he hesitated before answering. He wasn't sure if it was just paranoia or if something really was wrong. His gut told him it was the latter.
Without another word, he shoved his chair back, the wooden legs scraping against the floor. He reached for his coat in one swift motion, slipping one arm into the sleeve before David jumped up, blocking his path with a raised brow and a smirk. He held both hands up in a 'calm down' gesture.
"Whoa there, hero," David quipped. "Let's not go charging in like we're rescuing someone from a hostage situation. Maybe she's just taking a well-deserved day off. She's had a rough few days, don't you think?"
Joseph exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening. He clenched his coat in his hands, then slowly let go, his fingers flexing as if debating whether to listen or push past David and leave anyway. The rational part of him knew David had a point, but the gnawing worry in his chest wouldn't let up.
"Yeah… Maybe you're right," Joseph finally muttered, though the furrow between his brows remained.
David grinned, sensing his small victory. "Exactly!" His tone was deliberately teasing. "Just text her instead. No need to be the over-dramatic detective of the year."
Joseph sighed, nodding reluctantly as he pulled out his phone. The screen cast a soft glow over his face as he quickly typed a message on MessGo:
'Hey, where are you? You, okay?'
The moment he hit send, he found himself staring at the screen like a hawk, waiting. The response came almost immediately:
'Sorry, sir, I wasn't able to inform you earlier. I'm under the weather, so I'll need a couple of days to rest.'
Joseph let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding, his shoulders relaxing as he flopped back into his chair. He ran a hand through his dark hair, exhaling a short chuckle. "Looks like she's just sick," he muttered, the tension in his voice lessening.
David leaned back, arms crossed, his smirk widening. "Told you! See? She just needed a break, nothing more."
Joseph gave a half-smile, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, I guess I was overreacting." He quickly typed back: 'No worries, just focus on getting better. Let us know if you need anything!'
A minute passed. Then two.
Joseph frowned, glancing at his phone again. The message had been seen, but there was no reply.
"Why isn't she replying?"
David, catching the shift in Joseph's expression, rolled his eyes. "Come on, man. Maybe she took some medicine and knocked out. Not everyone responds like a machine."
Joseph nodded absently but couldn't shake the unease creeping back into his gut. He stared at the screen, willing another response to appear.
David, deciding to lighten the mood, stretched lazily in his chair, letting out an exaggerated sigh as he leaned back. With a slow push against the floor, he spun his chair in a half-circle before propping his feet up on the edge of Joseph's desk. His fingers tapped away at his phone as he smirked. "Relax, Mr. Detective. Let's not start a conspiracy over a delayed text. Get back to work. Meanwhile, I'll conduct some very important research with the next MeTube video."
Joseph, still absently staring at his phone screen, arched a brow at him, his lips quirking slightly at the corners. He set his device down with a soft thud on the desk and crossed his arms. "Research?" His tone was skeptical, the amusement barely masked. "Sure, sure. Go ahead and laze around."
David gasped dramatically, his expression morphing into one of mock offense. In a swift motion, he swiveled his chair toward Joseph, pointing a finger at his laptop as if delivering a grave accusation. "Laze around? Excuse me, I am conducting research!" He straightened his posture, raising his chin as if preparing for an award-winning speech. "Taking in valuable information on the incident we might have created last night." He punctuated the air quotes with a slow, deliberate gesture, his grin stretching wider with each word.
Joseph exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head as he leaned back into his chair. His shoulders relaxed slightly, and a soft chuckle escaped him—brief, but genuine. The playful banter had momentarily eased the tightness in his chest, and for a second, the tension in the room seemed to dissolve into something lighter.
Yet, even as the humor lingered between them, that uneasy whisper at the back of his mind refused to quiet. The silence following Lopez's message stretched unnaturally long, and no matter how much he tried to shake it off, something about it felt… off.
His fingers unconsciously tapped against the desk again.
Something still didn't sit right.
Meanwhile, a tense scene unfolded in Thomas's office—the usually quiet, book-lined room now charged with an unmistakable storm brewing between its occupants. The soft hum of the city outside barely seeped through the thick windows, but inside, the atmosphere crackled with unspoken frustration.
Standing rigid near his desk, Amayra planted her hands firmly on her hips, her sharp brown eyes burning with exasperation. The golden sunlight filtering through the blinds did little to soften the sharpness of her glare.
"Now, what have I done to make you angry, Senior Reporter Amayra?"
The sarcasm in Thomas's tone did nothing to ease her frustration. She didn't even blink. Instead, her hand shot into her coat pocket, fingers wrapping tightly around her phone before slamming it onto his desk with a loud THUD.
The device vibrated slightly from the impact, its bright screen displaying a thread of messages—conversations exchanged between her and Thomas's secretary, Miss Mary.
Thomas barely had time to process before Amayra leaned in, her tone rising with each word, "I can't believe this! Five days. Five whole days you've forgotten your medicine. Are you serious?"
The accusation hung in the air like a gavel hitting the judge's bench.
Thomas, ever the smooth talker, let out a light chuckle, raising both hands as if to shield himself from her fury. His signature lopsided grin played at his lips. "Haha, You and your temper!"
Amayra's glare intensified. "Don't 'haha' me, old man."
Thomas, sensing he was losing ground, shrugged in an attempt to downplay the situation. "Listen, princess—"
"Oh no, we're not doing this. Not this time." Amayra spun around with a dramatic flick of her hair and pointed toward the door. "Please come in, Miss Mary!"
The door creaked open hesitantly, and in walked Miss Mary, carrying a silver tray balanced with small pill bottles and a glass of water. Her steps were light, but her nervousness was palpable.
Thomas let out a slow smile, his keen eyes darting between the two women. Oh, they were teaming up on him.
Faking his serious expression, he folded his arms and cleared his throat. "Miss Mary, so you're part of this conspiracy too?"
Mary flinched slightly before stumbling over her words, her gaze flickering nervously between them. "Sir, ma'am arrived suddenly and—"
Amayra, not one to be interrupted, smoothly cut in, "That's enough, Mary. I've already shown him the messages."
Mary offered a hurried, apologetic nod before gently setting the tray on the desk. Her movements were quick, as if handling delicate explosives, and her eyes held a silent apology before she backed toward the door.
"Sorry, sir, for the inconvenience!" she squeaked before making a swift exit, disappearing down the hallway like a soldier retreating from battle.
Amayra watched her go with a satisfied smirk, then turned her attention back to Thomas. With deliberate slowness, she leaned forward, placing both hands on his desk, her expression a perfect mix of affection and challenge.
"Now, Dad, let's have some family time."
Thomas exhaled through his nose, shaking his head with mock defeat.
The afternoon passed with Amayra in full lecture mode, arms crossed, eyes sharp, and tone unwavering. Thomas, leaning back in his chair with a weary sigh, nodded along at all the right moments, his lips twitching in amusement despite himself.
After what felt like an eternity, Amayra finally snatched up her coat, gave him one last warning look, and strode out of his office, leaving behind a room filled with lingering echoes of her no-nonsense words.
As the door clicked shut, Thomas slumped forward, his elbows resting on his desk. A long, drawn-out sigh escaped him as he muttered under his breath, "She's just like her mother. If she had been alive… they would have made a terrifying team."
His eyes softened as they landed on the simple yet elegant golden ring on his finger—the small engraving of two hands clasping together catching the dim light from his desk lamp.
His thumb brushed over it absently, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips as a familiar warmth filled his chest.
For a fleeting moment, his thoughts drifted to a time long gone, to a love never forgotten.
Later, as Amayra walked down the corridor, the soft clicking of Amayra's heels the only sound breaking the quiet. The air carried the faint aroma of freshly brewed coffee drifting from a nearby break room, blending with the sterile scent of polished floors and fresh paper—an unmistakable office ambiance.
As Amayra strode forward with an air of authority, her sharp gaze caught sight of Mary standing near the reception desk, organizing files. The younger woman glanced up, her posture instantly straightening at Amayra's presence.
"Mary." Amayra's tone was firm but held a trace of amusement."If he forgets his medication again, let me know immediately. Though I doubt he will now." A small, satisfied smirk played at her lips.
Mary's hands froze mid-motion before she gave a quick nod, her expression neutral but inwardly relieved. "Of course, Miss Amayra."
But as Mary secured the last file into a drawer, she noticed Amayra's attention had shifted. Her piercing gaze was now locked on two figures walking past the corridor, heading toward the break room.
Joseph moved with his usual commanding presence, his tall frame exuding quiet confidence. His dark, neatly combed hair had a few unruly strands that refused to be tamed, a stark contrast to the calculated sharpness in his golden-hued eyes. Beside him, David walked with an easy-going stride, hands tucked into his pockets, his signature smirk firmly in place as he spoke animatedly about something only, he seemed to find amusing.
Amayra's brows furrowed slightly. One eyebrow arched. There was something eerily familiar about the man in front.
Her voice was barely above a murmur as she mused aloud, "Who's that?"
Mary, who had just followed Amayra's line of sight, felt a bolt of panic shoot through her. She forced a casual smile, trying to suppress the sudden knot forming in her stomach.
"Oh, him?" She let out a forced chuckle, shifting awkwardly. "That's Detective Joseph, one of the company's best."
Amayra's gaze didn't waver as she narrowed her eyes, studying Joseph like a puzzle piece that was just on the verge of snapping into place.
"Senior Detective, you say?" She tilted her head, lips pressing together in contemplation. A flicker of realization passed through her expression. "…Huh. He looks oddly familiar."
Mary's pulse quickened. The moment she had dreaded was fast approaching.
"Oh no," she thought, suppressing the urge to physically shake Amayra from her growing suspicions. "If she realizes who he is, this could get… complicated."
Her instincts kicked in. Thinking fast, she stepped closer and gently grabbed Amayra's arm, flashing her an overly bright smile.
"Miss Amayra, thank you so much for today! You must be exhausted with everything you've handled. Please, don't let me keep you—you have such a busy schedule, right?"
Her voice was dripping with forced enthusiasm, her fingers tightening slightly on Amayra's wrist in a subtle plea.
But it was too late.
The sharp glint in Amayra's eyes told Mary she had already figured it out.
Amayra's smirk widened like a cat that had just cornered its prey. She snapped her fingers, the sound cutting through the air like a triumphant exclamation.
"Wait a minute—he's the detective from the headlines, isn't he?"
Mary's face drained of color.
"No, Miss Amayra," she stammered, her voice lowering to an urgent whisper as she cast a quick, frantic glance toward Thomas's office. "Maybe this isn't the best time… Sir Thomas might get very angry if—"
But her warning fell on deaf ears.
Before she could finish, Amayra had already spun on her heel, her coat billowing slightly with the force of her movement.
She was heading straight for the break room.
Her confident, determined strides left no room for second thoughts.
Mary could only watch helplessly, pressing a hand against her forehead.
Her lips parted in a hushed, defeated sigh.
"…Sorry, Sir. I couldn't stop her."
Meanwhile, back in Joseph's office, his phone sat untouched on the desk, the screen dimmed. A single, unread message notification blinked on MessGo.
"I appreciate your concern, Sir. Please don't worry, I'm fine. I'll be back soon."
But is she really okay?
If Lopez is replying, then what exactly happened last night?
If she is still in the grasp of that shadowy figure, then who is behind these messages?
And just as uncertainty tightens its grip around Joseph's life, fate decides to throw in another twist—the city's most talked-about detective is about to come face-to-face with the relentless Senior Reporter, Amayra.
What new storm is about to unravel in Joseph's already chaotic world? And will he be ready for it?
To be Continued...