2nd January 2003 I mean 2004
I was seated at the desk, fingers fidgeting with a pen between my hands, absently scratching notes onto my notepad—partly from my own obsessive tendencies. The faint scratching of the pen echoed in the quiet office, blending with the soft hum of computers and the occasional murmur of conversation in the background. A fresh cup of warm coffee sat on the edge of my desk, steam rising in delicate spirals into the cool air, its rich aroma lingering nearby.
I could feel the lazy undertone of the staff in the room—many had arrived at the office, but there were still those few, the lazy pigs, who had taken a leave, happily lounging at home while the rest of us worked.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Sasha, seated at her own desk, completely engrossed in what she was typing. Her fingers moved purposefully over the keyboard, swift and deliberate, as though she thrived on the rhythm of the work. I could see the focused determination in her posture—head slightly tilted, brows slightly furrowed—she wasn't one to slack off. In fact, she loved work. She was driven, disciplined, and it showed in the way she approached every task with careful attention.
Her light brown hair was tied neatly back, strands occasionally falling in front of her face as she typed. She was sharp, competent—someone who always seemed a step ahead, constantly aware of her surroundings, even in the busiest moments.
I watched her for a moment, allowing myself a small, almost approving glance. Sasha had a quiet intensity about her that made her stand out in a room full of distractions. Unlike the rest, she didn't falter.
Samuel burst into the room suddenly, breaking the calm like a dramatic flare—easily the kind of character who thrived on theatrics. He strode toward my desk, unapologetically casual, and dropped into the seat opposite mine with a long, exaggerated sigh. The sound of his exasperation made Sasha grimace slightly, her expression flat, already predicting the melodrama about to unfold.
She spared a quick glance in our direction, then returned to her screen, focusing once more on her work.
Samuel sank into the chair, leaning back with a groan, clearly at the end of his rope. His voice was dripping with exaggeration as he spoke.
"Damn, all the cases are getting shoved my way now. All because you're solving that Cassandra Cottingham mess."
I raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Ah, so you'll finally understand my pain now…" I said, mildly amused. "And don't forget—I won the one-week coffee bet."
Samuel let out an irritated huff, waving a hand in dismissal. "Yes, yes... The genius Sherlock Holmes-like detective of all time in Los Angeles." His tone was dripping with sarcasm, though I could tell his patience was wearing thin.
I chuckled. "Jealous, are we? It's not like I asked for it to be this way. Did I? I'm just naturally brilliant."
He gave me an exaggerated eye roll. "Naturally brilliant... Yeah, sure. Honestly, I feel like Miss Cassandra Cottingham is the worst criminal of all time—and the never-ending pain in our department. I'd honestly prefer dealing with some simple homicide instead of someone like her… she's just too nothing to be everything."
I frowned slightly, confused. "Too nothing to be everything? What's that supposed to mean?"
Samuel leaned forward slightly, his tone shifting into something more serious. "Too outstanding to commit heinous crimes. That's what I mean."
This wasn't his usual humor—this was a statement, a fact. Indeed, even in his dramatic way of speaking, Samuel had hit on something deeper.
Samuel suddenly banged his hand on the table, making both Sasha and me look his way. He cast a curious glance at her, his eyes narrowing slightly as he observed her. Sasha, however, was too deeply immersed in her work to even notice. Her fingers flew across the keyboard, focused and unbothered by anything around her.
Samuel let out a dramatic sigh and leaned in, his tone playful but with a hint of annoyance. "She looks quite in a good mood, doesn't she?"
I smirked, leaning back slightly in my chair. "Yes, she does. Plus, she doesn't complain like her senior here throwing melodramatic stunts."
Samuel's brows shot up, his surprise evident. "My pain is not a melodrama."
Sasha finally rose from her chair, gracefully smoothing out her skirt as she held up a sheet of paper. It was folded neatly, clearly containing something useful—though I couldn't immediately make out what it was. I had a pretty good idea.
"Yes, I do look happy…" Sasha said, a subtle excitement lacing her voice. "After all, this week, a magazine will be launched—one that shows the top trends and highlights the most fashionable celebrity... a real fashion icon."
Samuel's eyes widened in surprise. "Quite surprising, Sasha. I thought you just loved working."
She pouted slightly, leaning back on one hip. "Every woman loves something like this."
Sasha's style was professional yet simple—she dressed in muted tones, her outfits always clean and elegant. The only real stand-out accessory was her signature tall, sleek heels—always perfectly paired with whatever she wore.
Sasha handed me the single-page document. As I unfolded it, I recognized the company name immediately: SuperTech Pvt. Ltd. A familiar player in the tech world. I sighed quietly, knowing exactly where this was headed.
"Good job, Sasha," I said, taking the paper from her hand and rising from my seat.
Samuel let out a loud, exaggerated groan, his hands flying up to his head. "Oh Loren, how cruel you are, leaving me with a pile of cases!"
I adjusted my coat, smirking as I turned toward him. "You better work on all the assigned cases, or I have a direct line to my boss. And you know that old man trusts my word."
Samuel rolled his eyes dramatically. "Oh, Hoffman, you're cruel."
"Someone's gotta keep you on your toes," I replied, giving him a pointed look before walking away.
Sasha and I gathered our things, preparing to head to SuperTech Pvt. Ltd. She packed her laptop, calm and focused, ready to tackle whatever lay ahead for the case. "We should get going," I said.
Sasha glanced up, a small, determined smile on her face. "Ready when you are." We stepped out into the bustling streets of downtown Los Angeles, heading toward SuperTech, both of us focused on finding the answers we nee2nd January 2003 I mean 2004
I was seated at the desk, fingers fidgeting with a pen between my hands, absently scratching notes onto my notepad—partly from my own obsessive tendencies. The faint scratching of the pen echoed in the quiet office, blending with the soft hum of computers and the occasional murmur of conversation in the background. A fresh cup of warm coffee sat on the edge of my desk, steam rising in delicate spirals into the cool air, its rich aroma lingering nearby.
I could feel the lazy undertone of the staff in the room—many had arrived at the office, but there were still those few, the lazy pigs, who had taken a leave, happily lounging at home while the rest of us worked.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Sasha, seated at her own desk, completely engrossed in what she was typing. Her fingers moved purposefully over the keyboard, swift and deliberate, as though she thrived on the rhythm of the work. I could see the focused determination in her posture—head slightly tilted, brows slightly furrowed—she wasn't one to slack off. In fact, she loved work. She was driven, disciplined, and it showed in the way she approached every task with careful attention.
Her light brown hair was tied neatly back, strands occasionally falling in front of her face as she typed. She was sharp, competent—someone who always seemed a step ahead, constantly aware of her surroundings, even in the busiest moments.
I watched her for a moment, allowing myself a small, almost approving glance. Sasha had a quiet intensity about her that made her stand out in a room full of distractions. Unlike the rest, she didn't falter.
Samuel burst into the room suddenly, breaking the calm like a dramatic flare—easily the kind of character who thrived on theatrics. He strode toward my desk, unapologetically casual, and dropped into the seat opposite mine with a long, exaggerated sigh. The sound of his exasperation made Sasha grimace slightly, her expression flat, already predicting the melodrama about to unfold.
She spared a quick glance in our direction, then returned to her screen, focusing once more on her work.
Samuel sank into the chair, leaning back with a groan, clearly at the end of his rope. His voice was dripping with exaggeration as he spoke.
"Damn, all the cases are getting shoved my way now. All because you're solving that Cassandra Cottingham mess."
I raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Ah, so you'll finally understand my pain now…" I said, mildly amused. "And don't forget—I won the one-week coffee bet."
Samuel let out an irritated huff, waving a hand in dismissal. "Yes, yes... The genius Sherlock Holmes-like detective of all time in Los Angeles." His tone was dripping with sarcasm, though I could tell his patience was wearing thin.
I chuckled. "Jealous, are we? It's not like I asked for it to be this way. Did I? I'm just naturally brilliant."
He gave me an exaggerated eye roll. "Naturally brilliant... Yeah, sure. Honestly, I feel like Miss Cassandra Cottingham is the worst criminal of all time—and the never-ending pain in our department. I'd honestly prefer dealing with some simple homicide instead of someone like her… she's just too nothing to be everything."
I frowned slightly, confused. "Too nothing to be everything? What's that supposed to mean?"
Samuel leaned forward slightly, his tone shifting into something more serious. "Too outstanding to commit heinous crimes. That's what I mean."
This wasn't his usual humor—this was a statement, a fact. Indeed, even in his dramatic way of speaking, Samuel had hit on something deeper.
Samuel suddenly banged his hand on the table, making both Sasha and me look his way. He cast a curious glance at her, his eyes narrowing slightly as he observed her. Sasha, however, was too deeply immersed in her work to even notice. Her fingers flew across the keyboard, focused and unbothered by anything around her.
Samuel let out a dramatic sigh and leaned in, his tone playful but with a hint of annoyance. "She looks quite in a good mood, doesn't she?"
I smirked, leaning back slightly in my chair. "Yes, she does. Plus, she doesn't complain like her senior here throwing melodramatic stunts."
Samuel's brows shot up, his surprise evident. "My pain is not a melodrama."
Sasha finally rose from her chair, gracefully smoothing out her skirt as she held up a sheet of paper. It was folded neatly, clearly containing something useful—though I couldn't immediately make out what it was. I had a pretty good idea.
"Yes, I do look happy…" Sasha said, a subtle excitement lacing her voice. "After all, this week, a magazine will be launched—one that shows the top trends and highlights the most fashionable celebrity... a real fashion icon."
Samuel's eyes widened in surprise. "Quite surprising, Sasha. I thought you just loved working."
She pouted slightly, leaning back on one hip. "Every woman loves something like this."
Sasha's style was professional yet simple—she dressed in muted tones, her outfits always clean and elegant. The only real stand-out accessory was her signature tall, sleek heels—always perfectly paired with whatever she wore.
Sasha handed me the single-page document. As I unfolded it, I recognized the company name immediately: SuperTech Pvt. Ltd. A familiar player in the tech world. I sighed quietly, knowing exactly where this was headed.
"Good job, Sasha," I said, taking the paper from her hand and rising from my seat.
Samuel let out a loud, exaggerated groan, his hands flying up to his head. "Oh Loren, how cruel you are, leaving me with a pile of cases!"
I adjusted my coat, smirking as I turned toward him. "You better work on all the assigned cases, or I have a direct line to my boss. And you know that old man trusts my word."
Samuel rolled his eyes dramatically. "Oh, Hoffman, you're cruel."
"Someone's gotta keep you on your toes," I replied, giving him a pointed look before walking away.
Sasha and I gathered our things, preparing to head to SuperTech Pvt. Ltd. She packed her laptop, calm and focused, ready to tackle whatever lay ahead for the case. "We should get going," I said.
Sasha glanced up, a small, determined smile on her face. "Ready when you are." We stepped out into the bustling streets of downtown Los Angeles, heading toward SuperTech, both of us focused on finding the answers we needed.