“John!” Joe called out as he realized who the figure standing close to his car was. “What are you doing here?” Joe asked, not removing his eyes from Him. John looked at Joe pulling himself away from the car. “I went by your office to check on you. They said you were here, so I thought I’d drop by.” Joe raised an eyebrow, unable to hide his surprise. “So, you came all the way here?” John smiled slightly. “I did. Actually, I wanted to take you out for a bit and help you relax. You’ve been through a lot lately, and the last thing you need is to stay cooped up in the office.” Joe considered his words and at that moment , he realized that Timothy was right. The weight of the break-in, the tension with Mr. Adam, and everything else had started to wear on him. A break might actually do him some good. “You’re right,” he admitted. “So, where do you have in mind?” “There’s a place I know at Walters. It’s a cozy spot, nothing fancy, but they have an amazing rooftop.” John said. “Sounds
Joe held the phone to his ear, waiting for the voice he hadn’t heard in far too long. Finally, there was a click, followed by a gruff voice on the other end. "Joe?" Jerry said, the tone colder than Joe had hoped for. "Long time no see, or call, or text." “Jerry,” Joe started. "I know you're angry, but it’s not what it looks like." "Then explain it to me," Jerry spat back. “You got rich and just forgot about me, huh? I’ve seen you in all those business articles, making waves. But I guess you were too busy even to send a text?” Joe sighed, realizing that no excuse was going to make this right. After a long pause, he finally said, "I'm sorry, Jerry. I should have reached out." "Ya think?" Jerry muttered, the bitterness clear in his voice. “Please,” Joe said, feeling the weight of the guilt settle in. “Forgive me.” Silence stretched on the line, lasting so long that Joe began to wonder if he’d lost the call. Finally, Jerry spoke with a soft voice. “The only way I’m forgiving you
The hard-faced man Joe assumed was Puck walked towards him. At every step, he glared over his shoulder until he got closer to Joe’s car. He tapped the window, and Joe opened it. “Puck!” Joe said slowly, and the guy nodded. “You must be Jerry’s friend.” He said. “Yes, I am,” Joe replied. “I called you about Victor.” “I remember vividly,” Puck said. “So, what type of business do you want with him?” “I’m searching for a supplier,” Joe said in a slow tone; he knew he had to be careful with his words; any wrong word he said would send the puck back to his hiding spot. “You know, you don’t have to go to the big guys to get the good stuff,” Puck said. “I have anything you need.” “I prefer Victor,” Joe said with a straight face. “Since you won’t help me find him, I would be on my way.” “No, wait!” He said, calling Joe’s attention. Joe shifted uneasily as he faced Puck through the open car window. "I’d help you," Puck said, a sly smile creeping onto his face. "But it comes with a
The next day arrived, and all Joe wanted to do was relax and forget about his encounter with Victor. But as he sat in his office, Victor’s words kept ringing in his head. How could the answers he was looking for be in the estate? And if he was right where does he start looking? “Sir!” A knock on the door caught Joe’s attention. Joe adjusted himself. “Come in," he called, and his eyes returned to the paperwork scattered in front of him. The door creaked open, and Jeremy stepped inside, clutching a small brown envelope. "Sir, this just came in for you," he said, and his words made Joe lift his head. Joe looked up and nodded, reaching out his hand. "Thanks, Jeremy." He took the envelope, and Jeremy turned, leaving the office without a second glance. The moment the door clicked shut, Joe's curiosity turned to dread. Something about the envelope felt off. Then, he noticed the trademark at the bottom. “This was another death threat.” He said to himself. With a deep breath, he
Joe's hand shook as he stared down at the paper. It was identical to the one he’d received earlier—same handwriting, same eerie message, and the words that made his blood run cold: ‘Tick-tock, Joe. Time’s running out.’. But as he looked closer, something caught his eye. This note wasn’t addressed to him. It was addressed to his father. Joe’s stomach tightened, and a rush of questions flooded his mind. His father had been receiving the same threats, and Joe wondered just how long these letters had been haunting him. Could this be connected to his father’s death? Had the same person been behind his death and was now coming for Joe? The panic began to take over. He would find out who was behind this, no matter what it took. Driven by the need to know more, he began searching through the study, pulling open drawers and rifling through shelves. A stack of envelopes, all marked with the same threatening handwriting, fell into his hands. The door creaked, and Joe froze. Without thinki
Joe reluctantly approached the table, stealing a glance at lady Penelope’s guest. The woman gazed at Joe, before she quickly looked away. John looked at Lady Penelope, and when he got closer, he wrapped her in a hug. They exchanged warm smiles and immediately they pulled away Lady Penelope spoke up, "I thought you’d forgotten all about me." She said in a slow tone. Joe shook his head, smiling apologetically. "How could I? I’ve just been so busy with the family business." Lady Penelope’s face softened. "I know you have, and I'm just teasing you. I heard about the break-in. I’m glad nothing was taken."Joe smiled instead of responding , the memory of that unsettling night flickering through his mind. "How are the investigations going?" she asked, with a concerned tone. "The police are still on it, and they haven’t updated us yet," Joe replied. "I hope they catch whoever is behind it," she said earnestly. "So do I," he murmured, his eyes flickering away from hers, landing on th
Joe looked at Hannah with a stunned expression, though he quickly tried to mask it. "I have no idea what you’re talking about," he said, forcing a casual tone and averting his eyes. He couldn't let her see how rattled he was; this was because he didn’t want to get involved with her, especially when it came to this issue. Hannah’s gaze remained on Joe. "You can play dumb all you want, but I’m not buying it, Joe." Her voice was sharp, and she sounded angry. "I’m searching for answers about my father’s death, too, and I know you’re doing the same." Joe clenched his jaw. He wanted to speak so badly, but a part of him warned him not to. Instead, he moved toward his car, opening the door quickly. "I’m not searching for anything, Hannah," he replied, sliding into the driver’s seat. He looked up at her, forced a polite but empty smile, and added, "Good luck finding out who killed your father." He turned the key in the ignition, and he was about to pull out of the driveway when her vo
When Joe arrived at his office, the minute he stepped in, he noticed that Hannah was leaning casually against the wall. She met his eyes with a half-smile, which Joe failed to return. "I was hoping you'd text me back quickly," she said, sounding slightly annoyed. "Since you didn’t, I thought I’d check up on you in person."He stopped a few feet away from her, crossing his arms. "You don’t know when to quit, do you?"Her eyes glinted. "I don’t quit easily when there’s something worth fighting for.""And what exactly do you think is worth fighting for here?" he challengedShe leaned closer, her expression hardening. "Answers, Joe. The same ones you’re looking for." He felt his defenses weaken slightly. She had the same drive and the same need for answers as he did. Sadly, he didn’t want her involved in his personal issue.“You’re getting this wrong Hannah.” Joe said and the next word that spilled out of his lips were lies.“I’m not in looking for anything; meaning I don’t need your he