Mrs. Cole's entrance was like a command.
The air in the room shifted the moment she walked in.
Her pearls caught the light. Her black dress whispered wealth and control.
Her calm smile could fool anyone, but her eyes, they were sharp enough to cut glass.
"If it isn't my priceless jewel," she said warmly, spreading her arms.
Donald stepped into her embrace. Her perfume reminded him of childhood mornings and whispered power.
"I'm so sorry," she murmured against his ear. "He left too much on your shoulders. We didn't prepare you for it. But you'll win, Donald. Because this weight brings power, and power must never be wasted."
Her words carried softness, but also warning.
"It's fine, mom, I understand." He let out gentle smile. "How was your journey?"
"Boring…" she bent to pick up her purse. "Come now, I'll tell you all about it."
He went with her towards the east wing of the mansion. The sound of her heels echoed.
**********************
Morning sunlight spilled into the study. Donald stood over the ledgers again. His eyes burned from staring at the pages all night.
Collins entered quietly. "You sent for me, sir."
Donald didn't look up. "How long have you worked for Cole Group?"
"A little above ten years, sir."
Donald raised his head slowly. His voice was calm, but his stare could crush stone.
"Then you should recognize what I'm seeing here."
He tapped the open page.
"Someone's been moving money into offshore accounts. If this gets out, we'll face more than lawsuits. We'll drown in them."
"I don't understand sir." Collins said with a shaky voice as he took a step forward.
Donald's eyes narrowed.
"Don't play ignorant with me, Collins." He paused, then exhaled, as if reluctantly, "The journalist, Grace, I want to speak with her. Arrange a meeting for us."
"Sir…" Collins said, frowning.
"What?" Donald cut abruptly. "You don't know how to arrange a meeting as well?"
"That's not the case, sir, " Collins said carefully, taking another step forward. "I can find her. But I strongly suggest you speak with Mrs. Cole before you do anything."
Donald shook his head. "I don't want to burden her. She just got back and she still misses dad." He said as he turned to face the ledger. "I can handle this."
"Sir, it's not about handling. With respect sir, Mrs…" Collins said as he leaned towards the desk.
"Do as you are told, Collins" Donald said without raising his head.
"Very well sir, but I strongly suggest you speak with your mother" Collins said as he turned to leave.
Donald's eyes followed him out. The room felt heavier once Collins left.
He turned back to the ledger, but the numbers blurred. Grace's voice filled the silence.
It's not noise, it's life.
He pressed his palms against the desk. He told himself it was only information he wanted from her. But even he didn't believe that.
"I need to hear what she knows," he muttered. "She might be up to something… or maybe not."
He rubbed his temple, trying to steady his thoughts. But deep down, he knew it wasn't just the case that drew him in. It was her.
He picked up his jacket and left the study.
The ledger lay open, and the name Bernard Stone glared back at the empty room.
**********************
One thing Grace hated about her ordinary life was boarding a bus every morning to work and every evening back home.
The dusty seat had already stained her white skirt. She sat squeezed between two chubby women.
When the bus finally reached her stop, she stepped down and straightened her skirt.
She took a deep breath, the thought of her new lead pushed her forward.
At the office, she greeted her colleagues and sat at her desk.
Her phone blinked to life after charging. Notifications flooded in.
Her eyes fell on a message from an unknown number. She opened it.
"Grace, the Cole won't fall because of your scribbles. Stop asking about Bernard, it will only get you killed."
Grace forced a smile. "I'd like to see them try."
She said as she picked up her notebook. She wrote: If they are trying to stop me, that means I'm on to something.
She opened her laptop and typed Bernard Stone. Dozens of old articles flooded in.
She found an old article dated twenty-nine years ago.
Bernard had worked in Cole Oil for eight years. He died in a car accident just a week before a scheduled TV appearance.
His wife who was the former head of the servant in the Cole mansion, had disappeared mysteriously three weeks later.
As she scrolled through other articles, she found a picture. Not very clear but visible enough to her.
It was a picture of Mrs. Benard and her son, two days before she disappeared.
The caption said she was last seen at the City Hospital.
Her belonging wasn't found in the apartment, so neighbors felt she had moved out of town.
Grace bit her lips as she smiled faintly. "The City hospital, that's a new lead."
She copied the address from her browser, packed her notebook and pen into her bag as she walked out of the office.
At the hospital, the receptionist barely looked up.
"Come back tomorrow," she said.
Grace sighed. Another dead end.
She turned to leave when her phone buzzed again.
This time, the message made her heart skip.
Mr. Cole would like to see you.
Today, 5 PM. Cole Group Building.
Grace stared at the screen. Her fingers trembled before she tucked the phone away. Her smile was small but nervous.
"It's just work," she whispered to herself. But her heart skipped in a way that had nothing to do with journalism.
Donald sat in the back seat of his car, staring out the window. His thoughts circled Grace and the meeting.
"It's just for question, nothing more." He muttered. But he knew that it was more than question.
"We're here, sir," the driver said.
Donald didn't answer. His eyes were distant. He opened the door and stepped out. For once, numbers weren't what troubled him.
He wanted to see her.
He needed to.
And somewhere between suspicion and danger, desire had already begun to bloom.