Chapter 2 A Woman

Jemma's behavior struck Kaelyn as strange. Could Jemma have realized that she had drugged her?

Though Jemma had never visited the room she had mentioned, Jemma now behaved as though she had never been drugged.

Kaelyn couldn't ignore how strange the situation was.

With a sense of unease tucked away, she made her way up the emergency staircase.

Voices drifted down from above, prompting her to tread lightly.

"Find that woman for me."

"Understood, Mr. President."

Mr. President?

A look of astonishment crossed Kaelyn's face.

Who would have guessed that the President was really present in this very hotel?

And why was he suddenly in search of a woman?

Could he possibly mean Jemma?

Though Jemma had been under the influence of a strong drug, she appeared unaffected during their recent phone call. The drug's effect was supposed to be long-lasting without intervention from a man.

Now, the President's pursuit of Jemma hinted at an encounter between them.

Kaelyn felt a hint of envy. How could Jemma be so lucky? She had been drugged and still somehow run into the President. Why did it have to be her?

The good thing was it seemed the President had no idea who he had slept with.

Moonlight streamed in, casting ghostly shadows over the dimly lit stairs.

Kaelyn devised a daring plan in her mind.

She stepped forward, and with a timid voice, she said, "No need to trouble yourself. It was me earlier. I went to get some water... I'll leave now if I'm not needed."

"Tell me your name."

The President's voice, both deep and captivating, made Kaelyn's heart race. "Kaelyn Mason, from the Department of Energy."

"You're free to go."

"Alright."

The echo of footsteps retreating down the stairs lingered as Zayne Scott asked, "Should we check the surveillance footage, Mr. President?"

In a low voice, Caiden Phillips, the President, said, "Proceed."

Earlier, the woman had sounded anxious while answering her phone and had been eager to leave. What made her come back?

Surely getting water shouldn't warrant such urgency.

When Jemma arrived at the hospital, Kevin Martin, her father, was lying on the bed, his face pale, his leg bandaged and suspended. Jemma's stepmother, Julia Martin, was wiping away tears.

Rushing to the bed, Jemma exclaimed, "Dad, what happened? How did you get injured?"

Over the past couple of days, Kevin had visibly aged, his hair grayer and his face more haggard. The sight squeezed Jemma's heart, nearly bringing her to tears.

Kevin offered a weak smile. "It's not as bad as it looks. I was merely shoved, but thankfully, this injury means I'll need to stay here for recovery and won't have to be at the station."

Jemma's concern deepened. Shoved?

This was clearly no minor incident. Someone might have been trying to permanently silence him. Without Kevin to speak out, the false charges against him would stand unchallenged.

Jemma realized that the fight to clear her father's name could no longer wait.