So, he stays at hotels instead, where there are too many no one would know where he stays. He doesn’t even tell us, his kids. But, I always find my way around knowing where he stays exactly. He’s my father after all, I know him better than anyone.
“-Focus on the East Side.” I added, giving Amy a look, while lifting my finger off the Starbucks coffee cup to prove a point. “He was there the last time, people would cross it off their list, but check, I’m certain he went back.”
She hummed in agreement, as if seeing my reasoning behind this as well, or so she guessed. “Going back there wouldn’t be what they’d expect, right?”
“No.” I deadpanned, my lips pressed together. “Believe me, they can guess how Edward Montague thinks by now. But he has this weird obsession with the scenery there or something.” I shook my head, waving it off because trying to understand how his mind works is a wonder, even for me. “Forget it. Just look into it, will you?”
“On it.” Amy nodded, then scribbled something on the tablet she has in hand, no doubt writing the task on her to-do list-believe me, she’s an organized freak. Everything has to be organized to the T for her. When she was done, she looked up again, her eyes narrowed zero on the coffee in my hand. “Please tell me you ate something before you came out.”
I offered her a tight lipped smile, “I did.” Upon seeing her glare shift to me, I added. “Half a sandwich and a cup of coffee.” I tried to defend myself, but that only made the situation worse.
Her eyes dilated, her lips falling open. “Another cup? This is your second?” I don’t know why she’s surprised really, she’s more aware of my unhealthy eating habits than anyone else.
I hummed, nodding my head. “Actually, if you count the one I had around 3:00 in the morning, then it’s my third.” I know I’m only making the situation worse, but something about teasing Amy reminds me of the old days, where I find myself able to crack jokes with her and be the silliest I could be.
After yesterday, I feel I very much needed a bit of feeling how I used to be, perhaps. It would lessen some of the ache weighing my heart down. And it did, for seeing Amy’s face pale at my unhealthy lifestyle was so worth it-even if it’s at the expense of my deteriorating health…but that’s not something we should bother ourselves with. It’s not important.
“Please tell me you slept last night.” Her voice was low, and filled with dread-her face screamed so as well. She was practically praying I would say yes, so she’d have less risk of getting high blood pressure at a young age. “You barely had any in the past few days. A good 8 hours’ sleep would be good enough.” Didn’t she hear the part I said I had coffee around 3 AM? Or is she ignoring it? Probably the latter. For her mental health.
Then again, I live to stress her like an old woman. “I did.” I said, dragging the chair closer to the desk. When I saw her visibly relax her shoulder, I added. “Around 4:30 to 6:30 AM. Nothing beats morning two hours of sleep, huh?”
If possible, her mouth dropped to the floor. “ISABELLA VIVIEN MONATGUE!” She screamed out in frustration, two seconds away from pulling her hair out. If she’s in a cartoon, I’m certain she’ll have steam coming out of her ears or something.
I chuckled at the thought, already mentally drawing her with horns, a red face, and steam evaporating from her ear-cue the train noise in the background.
Amy dropped her hands by her side, her eyes flicked close as she shook her head. “And I allowed you to drive yourself to work alone.” She muttered, as if scolding herself.
“Hey, I said I’ll drive myself.” I pointed out, so she wouldn’t pin the blame on herself like I know she would. “It’s not on you.”
She peeled her eyes open, giving me a blank look. “That makes me feel so better.” She stated drily, my words doing nothing to soothe her mother hen nature of taking care of me even if we are only a few years apart. Running a hand down her face, she added. “I’ll going to start losing hair in a couple of years because of you, or start having grey hair worse.” She stated in a dejected tone.
I did nothing to soothe that mentality of hers, other than fuel it with a shrug and a feigned innocent look that only had her sighing, as if giving up on scolding me because she knows it won’t work.
“-I’ll just head back to work.” She gestured to the door, and with slumped shoulders and a shake of the head like a disappointed parent, made her way out.
However, I remembered something just as she reached the door. “Wait, Amy.” I called out, making her stop and turn around. I then gestured for her to come over, and she did. Rummaging through my bag, I pulled out a few papers I’d highlighted from my overnight search, and placed them in front of her. “Can you look into these stocks for me? I found them while going through the papers last night but weirdly enough, there was no name.”
Her brows drew in, her lips slanted into a deep frown. “For Montague Group?” She looked at the heading, earning a nod from me regardless. I could see the wheels turning in her head already as well due to the oddity. She nodded though, as she met my gaze again. “I’ll look into this before the day ends and report it to you.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.” With that said, she turned around and walked out, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I slumped in my seat, my gaze drifting to the digital watch on the table, reminding me that I have exactly 24 hours from now until the shareholder’s meeting. Up until this point, nothing is in my favor still, and if I knew what’s best for me, I’d just give up but I refuse to. I still have 24 hours to change this, and I would stop at nothing. I’ll find a solution in these 24 hours, I have to. One way or the other.
And the timing starts now.
D-24 Hours.
***
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.