The sleek black car came to a sudden halt in front of a magnificent gate. This was the mansion of James, yet another titan of the business world who, like Francisco, concealed a hidden identity.
Behind his public façade, James was an underworld mafia figure, expertly shielding his criminal persona behind the veil of his legitimate enterprises.
As the car pulled up, the mansion's guards immediately noticed the intruder. Bruce was thrown out of the moving car.
Their eyes narrowed in suspicion as they realized a disheveled and injured man was sprawled at the gate. Before they could spring into action, the car abruptly accelerated, leaving Bruce behind in its dust.
One of them shouted, "Mr. Bruce!"
The guards approached; they noticed the visible signs of physical trauma etched across Bruce's body. Deep bruises and lacerations bore witness to the violence he had endured.
One of the guards called out urgently, "Call the boss. Mr. Bruce needs to be admitted to the hospital right now."
**
Francisco had been spending the day exercising in his private gym, intentionally ignoring his phone calls and messages. He was in a mood of seclusion. Despite the insistent buzzing of his phone, he initially refused to be distracted. But after a minute, he couldn't help but pause his workout and reach for his phone.
His face remained unreadable as he read the message. After a brief moment, he set the phone down and returned to his workout.
However, as he was about to leave the gym, his solitude was abruptly disrupted. Max stood before him, blocking his path. With narrowed eyes, Max confronted him.
"What's wrong with you exactly?" he demanded, his voice tinged with a hint of frustration.
Francisco sighed and stepped aside, making his way to the stairs leading out of the gym. He moved with a certain grace.
"Dude, I am asking you something," Max persisted. "Did you not receive any mail from the company?"
Francisco paused on the stairs. Then he finally spoke, his voice tinged with calmness. "I did, Max. But I did not feel the need to reply."
Max's sigh was a reflection of his growing frustration as he observed Francisco's carelessness.
"Hey, you have to show up to the meeting today. Keep in mind that you must go in for an interview for the CIO position."
Francisco's response was somewhat nonchalant; his gaze turned away from Max as he spoke. "I will be there in 20 minutes. But I can't take everyone's interview."
"Furthermore, I have heard that Diana is seeing someone."
Max arched his brows.
To avoid revealing his true feelings, he stammered, "I... I am not sure, to be honest."
Francisco raised one eyebrow at Max's response. "Then try to figure out who he is," he urged.
Max confessed, "Yes, but I don't think Diana will let me do anything."
Francisco asked, "Do you not let yourself do something? What are you saying?"
Max looked away for a moment, his thoughts a tumultuous storm of emotions. "I mean, why does she allow me to meddle in her life?" he muttered.
Francisco's furrowed brows conveyed his seriousness as he spoke, "I don't want to hear anything. I don't want her to let her love life divert her mind."
"What if she refuses to let me in?" Max asked, his voice measured.
"So, you are aware of what to do." With those words, Francisco left the room, leaving Max standing there.
The events of the past night loomed large in Max's thoughts. He and Diana had argued vehemently about his tendency to meddle in her life. She had explicitly told him not to interfere, asserting her need for independence.
But now, with Francisco's tacit approval, Max knew that nobody could prevent him from seeing her.
A victorious, wry smile crept onto Max's face.
In the police station, Freddie dashed into Rafael's chamber. He clutched something that seemed to be a treasure.
"Sir, we located this nearby," Freddie explained, a hint of excitement in his voice.
Rafael raised an eyebrow and accepted the item Freddie handed him. His eyes narrowed as he inspected the image or document presented before him.
Freddie leaned closer to Rafael. "But, sir, there is top-secret information," he emphasized.
Rafael wiggled his eyebrows and asked, "What is this top-secret information?"
Freddie hesitated for a moment. "I learned last night that Mr. James's secretary had been admitted to the hospital," he disclosed, "but his health was in a rather precarious state."
Rafael feigned surprise, arching his brows. "Oh, really!"
Freddie nodded in agreement, "Yes."
"It's definitely headline news," he confirmed. "So, should we not go there to meet him?"
Freddie, however, was quick to offer a counterpoint. He shook his head and explained, "I don't think it will work, sir. He has been unconscious since last night."
"In that case, I think we may need to speak with his boss," Rafael suggested. "And we need to meet his boss as well because it was his port where we rescued those girls."
Rafael stood up and signaled his intention to proceed with their plan. He was ready to take the next step in their quest for answers. However, just as he was about to leave the room, Freddie halted him.
Rafael turned to Freddie, curious about the sudden pause. "What is it?"
"Sir, do we not need to inform the sheriff about it?" Freddie said, voicing his concern.
With a measured tone, Rafael responded, "Oh, come on, Freddie. Not everything needs to be disclosed to everyone. We also have some abilities, right?"
Rafael understood that their investigations touched on dangerous territories and involved individuals who might have a stake in keeping their activities concealed.
Freddie gave him a nod. Rafael smiled at him and said, "Then?"
He patted Freddie on the shoulder, and then they walked away.
**
Tension lingered in the air as everyone in the room, including Max, waited for Francisco's arrival. The interview for the chief information officer (CIO) position was scheduled to begin, but Francisco was notably absent.
Liam, the Chief Financial Officer (CFO) of the Hilton company, leaned forward. He directed his inquiry at Max, asking, "Mr. Max, where is Mr. Hilton? The interview must start now."
Growing unease settled in Max's mind as he dialed Francisco's number.
But as he was about to dial Francisco's number, the room fell into a moment of stunned silence as the door was pushed open with an unexpected abruptness. Everyone in attendance, including Max, stood up, his eyes widening in concern.
They were even more taken aback when they laid eyes on Francisco. He was usually disrupted by the sight of his wounded and bleeding hand. The handkerchief he clutched around his injury was stained with the crimson evidence of his ordeal.
"Are you alright?" Max asked, his eyes locked onto Francisco's injured hand.
"We will discuss it after going back. Start the interview." Francisco waved off the immediate concern, making it clear that the interview could not wait.
"But, sir, your hand?" Liam questioned.
Francisco's sharp look met Liam's frazzled expression.
"It's not your hand; it's mine. So why are you so concerned?" Francisco's response was curt.
Liam, taken aback and unnerved by Francisco's stern response.
Max shrugged in response to Francisco's words.
"At least put some antiseptic lotion on the wound. The candidates can wait for two minutes," he suggested.
Francisco, however, remained resolute in his decision. "No need. I'm a one-word guy," he stated calmly.