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
Joe stopped looking at Hannah, and he took a step forward, his shoes crunching on the shattered glass spread across the floor. His gaze fixated on the broken window, where a thick rope dangled down toward the street below. “How did this happen?” Joe murmured as he tried to piece together. The breeze from the open window ruffled the papers strewn about the room. Hannah’s face was displayed her frustration as she examined the rope. “He ran away,” she said with a sigh. “That’s the only logical explanation.” “But why?” Joe asked, still not moving his eyes from the broken window. “He knew we weren’t here to hurt him, right?” “Of course, I made it very clear I wanted to gain answers, nothing more,” Hannah replied, rubbing her temples “Maybe it was your tone of approach!” Joe said, trying to lighten the mood, despite the fact that he was hurt. “Seriously?” Hannah asked, and her voice caught Joe’s attention. “So that’s what you’re going with?” “I’m trying to be logical here but yo
The man didn’t listen to Joe’s words. He kept running, and Joe didn’t stop. When he arrived at a turning down the street, Joe could see the person more clearly now—he was muscular and had really tall legs, but the hoodie he wore made it hard for him to see his face. Joe tried to pick up his pace, hoping that if he got closer, he would be able to get a clearer view of the man’s face. But just as he was gaining ground, the man darted to the right and disappeared down an old trail. Joe’s legs came to a stop, catching his breath as he peered down the path. There was no sign of him. Frustrated, Joe turned and retraced his steps back to the estate. The box was still where he had left it, lying on the ground. He picked it up and stepped inside the estate. Back in his room, he set the box on the table and tore it open. As he peeled back the flaps, he found a small envelope and a stack of photos. His heart pounded as he glanced through them. The photos were of him, taken fro
After calling Jeremy several times and not receiving a reply, Joe started his car and headed towards his office. As he entered the building, his eyes caught sight of John talking to Mr. Maxwell at the receptionist's desk. The moment he got closer, Mr. Maxwell's voice rang out, and he didn’t sound pleased. "Where have you been, Joe?" Mr. Maxwell asked, and there was a drop of frustration in his voice. Joe paused for a moment, quickly collecting his thoughts. "I had things to attend to," he said with an apologetic shrug. Mr. Maxwell's brow furrowed as he glanced over at John. "One of the biggest investors in the city showed up today—he’s a close friend of Mr. Leon's. And thanks to John here, who managed to convince him to reschedule his meeting, if he didn’t step in when he did who knows what would have happened." Mr. Maxwell’s eyes drilled into Joe. He was clearly irritated. Joe was about to speak, but Mr Maxwell stopped him. "Jeremy tried to call you several times.” H
John adjusted his tie, glancing over at Joe with a grin as they stood in front of the full-length mirror in Joe’s room. "How do I look?" he asked, smoothing down the front of his suit. Joe took a step back, nodding approvingly. "You look amazing," he said, giving his cousin a confident smile. "Thanks," John replied, flashing a thumbs-up before they both turned and made their way downstairs. As they reached the table by the door, Joe’s eyes landed on a bouquet of flowers he’d picked out earlier. He reached for them but hesitated, glancing down at the bouquet in his hands. Just as he was about to put them back, John gave him a questioning look. "Why are you putting them back?" John asked, arching an eyebrow. "Aren't they for Hannah?" Joe shrugged, his hesitation clear. "I don’t know... Do you think she’ll even like them? I feel like maybe I’m doing too much. It’s just a launch of her event and not a date.” John shook his head, chuckling softly. "Joe, you’re not doing too much.