On the way back, Sher drove her in his high-end SUV, a vehicle that even smelled expensive. She was impressed. The man was handsome too—neatly cut hair, sharp cheekbones, and striking brown eyes. His girlfriend was lucky to have him. Surprisingly, she didn't feel uncomfortable around him.
From the back seat, Sara watched him, feeling like an important person being escorted with care. The frustration of the day slowly faded away.
"So—how did you meet Miss Blue?" Sher asked casually, his deep voice breaking the comfortable silence.
Sara had been watching him, observing the way his strong hands gripped the wheel, the way his presence filled the car. She blinked and shrugged.
"It was my friend's birthday. We went out, and I saw her by a bush. I thought she was lost, so I helped her. That's about it," she said simply.
Sher nodded. "That's a relief. We were so worried about her going missing."
"Oh!" Sara bit her lip, her hands knitting together. She wanted to ask more but felt out of place prying into family matters.
"I guess her parents were concerned," she said instead, forcing a polite smile.
Sher glanced at her through the rearview mirror for the first time, his brows slightly narrowing as if he noticed something about her face. But he quickly shifted his gaze back to the road.
"Of course, they were," he said casually. "Her father even lost a billion-dollar deal because of it."
Sara's eyes widened slightly. "Oh... I see."
She turned her attention to the rain rushing down the windows, letting the silence settle between them.
The morning was cold, and Sara's mother wrapped her in layers of jackets.
"It's freezing out there. Keep these on all day, and stay away from the water," her mother warned, fastening the last button of Sara's coat.
Sara sighed and nodded, turning around with effort.
"Oh, and don't forget about your blind date tomorrow!" her mother added. "Make sure to pick out a sexy dress on your way back."
Sara spun around, frowning. "I already told you—I'm not meeting anyone! Why should I pick out a sexy dress?"
"Who said you're not going?" Her mother scoffed. "I already reserved a spot for the two of you. You will be going. I don't want my daughter staying single forever. I want to see my grandchildren before I die!"
"Grandchildren? Mom, I am a child!" Sara groaned.
"I don't want to hear it. And don't you dare scare the poor boy away. He's a nice guy. He works in finance, earns well—you better give him a chance."
Sara rolled her eyes and stormed out of the apartment, ignoring her mother's nagging. She lived in a three-story building, their apartment on the top floor. It wasn't much—900 square feet with two bedrooms, a living room, and a small kitchen—but it was a comfortable space for three people.
As she made her way to the bus stop, the sky loomed heavy and gray, threatening rain. Her mother had stuffed a compact umbrella into her bag, just in case. She sat at the stop, breathing out, watching as the cold fog curled from her lips.
Her mind drifted back to yesterday. Her mother's constant nagging had filled her head, but when she mentioned the blind date, Sara had instinctively thought of him.
Augustine.
"Why did he look so familiar?"
"Did I know him from somewhere?"
She tried to recall anything before her memories had been wiped out, but no matter how much she strained, it was like they had been erased from existence.
'Something tells me he has the answers to all my questions,' she thought, her hands curling into fists against the cold.
"But I never want to see him again."
I hate him."
She whispered the words to herself just as her phone rang. Her manager's name flashed on the screen.
"Sara, where are you? The boss is looking all over for you."
She frowned. "Calm down, I'm on my way to work. It's not even time yet."
"I don't know. He asked me to tell you he needs you here in ten minutes," her manager pressed.
Sara pulled the phone away and stared at the screen, confused.
"What's wrong with him?"
The bus pulled up just in time, and she stepped on, gripping her phone tightly.
"Did I do something wrong?"
Her thoughts reeled, and then it hit her.
"The slap."
Her eyes widened.
"Did he find out who I was? Did he fire me?!"
Her stomach dropped at the thought.
"But that can't be the reason," Sara whispered to herself, trying to calm her racing heart. "He wouldn't call me to his office if I was fired... right?"
Taking a deep breath, she clenched her fingers around the strap of her bag and waited for the bus to stop, her mind spinning with possibilities. By the time she reached the towering office building, anxiety was coiled tight in her stomach.
As she stepped inside, warmth rushed over her, contrasting the cold that still clung to her skin. She walked straight to the reception desk, pulling off her overly layered jacket as she faced the manager.
"What was that all about?" she asked, her voice low but urgent. "Why does he want to see me?"
The manager leaned forward, glancing around before whispering, "Someone came asking for you."
Sara's brows knitted together. "Who?"
"I don't know," he admitted, his expression a mix of curiosity and unease. "But he looked like a mafia boss with the way he was surrounded by bodyguards."
A chill slithered down her spine. Her throat felt dry.
"You're not joking, are you?" she asked, her voice barely above a breath.
The manager shook his head. "You better hurry. They're waiting in the office." He gave her a light push forward.
Sara swallowed hard, inhaling deeply as she walked through the hallway. The air around her suddenly felt heavier, thicker with something unspoken. And then she saw them—tall, stoic men in sharp black suits standing guard outside the office door, their gazes cold and unreadable.
Her pulse pounded.
This is it.
'I'm dead. It's definitely that man. He's here to kill me. Skin me alive. Dump my body somewhere untraceable.'
A bodyguard glanced down at her, his face impassive. "Name?"
"Sara Parker," she answered, her voice steady despite the ice in her veins. "I'm here to see my boss."
The man scanned her face as if memorizing it, then knocked on the door before pushing it open.
Inside, the office was eerily silent.
Seated in her boss's chair was a man with striking silver hair, In a beautiful grey suit with crisp white shit, a broach on his his both collars connecting with a silver chain that hung beautifully between the unbuttoned flap of his shirt., In one of his hand he held a cane adding to his sexiness, his sharp eyes trained on the door as if he had been expecting her. For a fleeting second, his brows lifted in surprise—a rare, almost imperceptible crack in his composed demeanor—before he masked it just as quickly.
Sara barely had time to process his presence when her boss, who had been standing beside the couch near the door, cleared his throat.
"Mr. Vladmir, sir," he said, his voice overly polite, almost groveling. "Here is Sara Parker, the instructor you were looking for."
Sara's breath caught.