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
Joe arrived at the location Hannah had given him; it was a small cottage house. He couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow as he looked around. The place looked like something out of a fairy tale, with its soft pastel exterior and white picket fence. Before he could even knock, the door opened, and he saw Hannah standing on the porch with her usual half-smile.“Welcome,” she said, gesturing for him to come inside.Joe stepped into the cottage, and his first impression was almost overwhelming. The space was decorated with pink flowers and delicate lace. It looked like something out of a dollhouse, and he didn’t expect Hannah to leave in a place like this or even like the color pink.She acted like a reserved person who preferred white-colored walls and matching curtains. Joe remembered the saying never judge a book by its cover, and that made him bite down on a smirk, fighting to keep his expression neutral. Hannah seemed to catch his gesture, and she raised an eyebrow.“If you’re about
Joe sat on his living room couch, his eyes staring at the figure right beside him. It was Sunday, and he had spent most of the weekend searching for connections between his father and the names Hannah had given him. So far, he had only found documents relating to one: Ken Sanchez. His father’s business records showed proposals from Sanchez, though Joe hadn’t uncovered anything deeper than that. He decided to rest from his little search and hang out with Timothy, who had shown up at his house as early as eight. Timothy, lounging on the opposite end of the couch, broke Joe's concentration with a teasing voice. "So, you've been hanging out with Hannah recently, huh?" He asked. Joe rolled his eyes at Timothy. "Don't start, Timothy," he muttered. “Why are you hiding all the details from me?” Timothy said. “I tell you about my flings all the time.” “Or isn’t she a fling?” He asked, and Joe pretended not to hear him. “Is this like a potential relationship?” Timothy asked more qu