Chapter 8 UNMASKED

CHAPTER EIGHT- UNMASKED

~ LUCY'S POV ~

"What is it, Lucy?" she asked, her brows drew together and her voice soft with concern.

"The thing is, I-" I began, but was cut off by a cheerful voice.

"Hi, everyone!" Tris called out, waving enthusiastically with a bright smile on her face.

"Hey, Tris," we replied together, smiling back.

Of course, everyone knew Tris. She was the youngest intern in the company, yet somehow the most popular-her cheerful energy made her unforgettable.

"I didn't expect to run into you two here. I just came by for a quick coffee. Today's been exhausting," she sighed.

"You can say that again," Mrs. Cole replied, clearly relating.

"How's your internship going?" I asked her.

"It's going well," she beamed. "And guess what department I've been assigned to next? Marketing!"

"Oh my God, really? Congratulations, Tris!" I exclaimed.

"Thank you! By the way, how's your baby, Mrs. Cole?"

"Oh, he's doing great. He'll be a year old in two months," she said, smiling warmly.

I was glad Tris had come by-at least she helped distract Mrs. Cole from work and Mr. Peter for a while.

"I've got a recent picture of him-want to see?" she asked, pulling out her phone. As she showed us the photo, we couldn't stop laughing at the adorable baby staring back at us.

Few minutes later, after some cheerful chatting, Tris left to return to her tasks, leaving Mrs. Cole and me alone again. As we walked back toward our desks, she suddenly said,

"Lucy, you didn't get to tell me what you wanted to say earlier." Her words pulled me back to the moment before Tris arrived-when I had almost revealed my secret.

"Oh, right," I said. "I wanted to tell you not to rewrite the proposal."

"What do you mean? Why shouldn't I rewrite it?" she asked, both confused and surprised.

"You don't need to change the contents," I explained. "Just switch to a different font and resubmit it."

"But he's going to notice and reject it again," she said, sitting down at her desk.

"He won't. He doesn't actually read the proposals," I said calmly.

"Are you sure? How do you know that?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.

"I'm positive," I replied. "Just trust me on this."

"Alright, if you say so. I'll do it. And if he finds out, I'll just tell him I accidentally copied and pasted the wrong version," she said with a shrug.

"And here-take this," I added, handing her a small device. She looked at it curiously. "What's this?"

"It's a voice recorder. Keep it with you whenever you meet him for a review. If he says anything abusive or inappropriate, record it. Get it all on tape. I heard from the other colleagues that he always takes sides and accepts bribes. You're not the first victim but I want you to be the last."

Her eyes widened. "Wow... thank you, Lucy. But I'm still concerned if he rejects it again"

"I'm certain he won't besides the presentation is in two days," I said with a reassuring smile, then turned and walked back to my desk.

Mrs Cole won't be the one to leave the company.

He will

The rest of the day passed quietly, and by the next morning, Mrs. Cole had submitted the same proposal-no edits, just a new font. She told him she had rewritten it from scratch.

He barely glanced at it before saying, "Make a few copies and distribute them to everyone for tomorrow's meeting. Then send the original to Mr. Michael."

"Yes, sir," she replied calmly. As she walked out of his office, she caught my eye and gave me a subtle wink.

That small gesture said it all: You were right.

He didn't read the reports.

He never did.

And now... we had a plan.

Mr. Michael hadn't shown up to work since yesterday, which was unusual. He never missed a day, not even when he was sick. I couldn't help but wonder if something was wrong. But then again, maybe he just needed a break. I'm sure he's fine- he's the CEO's son after all.

It was finally time to head home. But as I approached my door, I froze. Dave was standing there, waiting for me.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, wary. He smiled like nothing was wrong.

"Oh hey, baby. Is it such a crime to visit my girlfriend?"

"How did you even get here before me?" "I had a meeting with a client earlier. Wrapped up before closing time," he replied casually, holding up a bottle of wine. "Come on, let's go in. It's been a while since we spent the night together."

I didn't want to let him in. But I didn't have much of a choice. I still needed his help learning about the stock market. For now, I had to keep playing the part. We went inside. I poured the wine, and we sat in silence, sipping slowly. He didn't look like someone who planned on leaving anytime soon.

"Any news about MW Technology?" I asked, steering the conversation.

"Not much, but their profits are climbing fast. You should consider investing in them," he said, taking a long sip of wine.

"Oh, okay," I replied, pretending to consider it. I already knew the company would crash soon-and take him down with it. Honestly, that was the plan. He set down his glass and leaned closer.

"You know," he said softly, "it's been ages since we've been intimate."

Before I could react, he closed the space between us and tried to kiss me. I turned my face, but he pressed on, forcing the kiss anyway. I pushed back, but he was persistent. His hands roamed to my clothes, fumbling to undress me.

A wave of panic surged through me. Flashes of our past-our marriage, the violence, the betrayal-rushed in like a flood. I remembered that final push that ended my life. My body tensed. "Stop," I whispered, jerking his hand away and standing up abruptly.

"What's wrong?" he asked, rising to his feet, eyes narrowed with confusion. Then he unzipped his trousers. "Don't tell me you didn't miss this," he said smugly, pulling them down and exposing himself.

My heart slammed against my chest. Rage and fear collided as I stepped back. I shouted instinctively, voice sharp with fear and anger.

He blinked, confused by my reaction.

But before he could move or respond, the doorbell rang.

Thank God.

I bolted for the door. The pizza. I had almost forgotten I ordered it. The timing couldn't have been better. I took the pizza from the delivery guy and stood at the door, blocking the entrance.

"Don't you think it's time to go home?" I said firmly, watching as Dave fumbled to pull his trousers back on.

"Why?" he asked, clearly annoyed. "I wanted to spend the night with you."

"Just go, Dave. I've got work to do tonight. Maybe some other time," I replied, keeping my voice steady.

He stepped closer, trying to charm his way back in, but I stood my ground. Before he could say another word, I pushed him gently but firmly and shut the door in his face. "Lucy? What the hell-open the door!" he shouted, banging on it with increasing frustration.

"Can you just leave?" I called out from inside. "I'm really not up for this tonight".

"What, are you sick or something? This isn't like you!"

"I just need some time," I said quietly.

There was a brief pause.

Silence.

Then his voice returned, laced with irritation masked as concern. "Fine, I'm leaving. But I don't know what's wrong with you these days. You've been so distant. Whatever-goodnight. I love you."

I heard his footsteps retreating, then his voice again, fading as he muttered to himself. "Honestly, I don't even know why I bother. She's all skin and bones-nothing to look at."

I sat on the floor, still holding the warm box of pizza. I stayed there for nearly an hour, haunted by the memory of the night he killed me in my previous life.

One thing was certain-he never loved me. And he wouldn't love Suzy either. All he cared about was sex.

Finally, I stood up from the cold floor, the weight of the past still lingering on my shoulders. I took a long, warm shower, letting the water rinse away the heaviness of the evening. After dressing, I walked over to the window and gazed outside.

The neighborhood looked calm-quiet streets bathed in the amber glow of streetlights, laughter echoing faintly in the distance. Everything felt normal, peaceful... almost healed.

Needing a moment to clear my head, I stepped out for a short walk. The night air was crisp against my skin, and for the first time in a while, I felt like I could breathe again. I was only a few steps into the stroll when a sudden car horn startled me.

I turned instinctively-and there he was.

Mr. Michael.

Sitting behind the wheel, his usual calm presence framed beneath the soft hum of his headlights. There he was, in all his quiet confidence-and strangely, seeing him brought a flicker of warmth to my chest.

Had I missed him? Maybe more than I realized. But then the thought crept in, steady and curious.

What is he doing here?

And why now?