Grace got back to her tiny office, more like a cubicle. Her desk was drowning in old files. She flipped open her notebook as she bit her lips. She drifts into her thoughts.
"Bernard… Bernard… Bernard… Who are you?" She murmured.
She opened her drawer and brought out a stack of sticky notes. She wrote down all the points she had gotten in her investigation. She pasted them on her board. Oil spills, unpaid workers, vanished workers, whispers of threat, and now Bernard. She leaned back on her chair, tapping her pen on her lips.
Her mind was lost on the different points she had pasted on the board. She didn't know where to start. The thought of the investigation should have been enough to occupy her mind but instead her thoughts shifted. She could see the eyes of Donald Cole. The rude and arrogant billionaire son.
She hated him and how she couldn't stop playing their encounter in her head. Her mind replayed the encounter at the factory. His eyes were cold and sharp, like he could see through her. His lips were curling in contempt. And the way her heart skipped whenever he leaned forward. She hated that the most.
"I hate him, she said, but her pulse quickened at the memory of their confrontation. She hated how she felt. She hated how his voice clung to her after he walked away.
"I need to focus. He is the least of my problems." She whispered
She stared at the board again and this time, she noticed something she hadn't seen before. A lead. It was faint but promising.
"I can ask the people around the drilling site. I'm sure someone will talk." She said as she packed her bags, about to leave the office for her home.
That evening, miles away, Donald poured himself a whiskey in his father's old study. He stared at the shelves of files as his thoughts drifted to Grace. The girl in the cheap blazer. The girl who stood up to him when others bowed. No amount of whiskey could quiet the storm in his heart.
"She'll break." He said as he lifted his glass to his lips. "They always break." He turned towards the shelves lined up with ledgers. One of them was out of place. It caught his attention. He stood up and went towards the shelf. He brought out the ledger. He flipped through the pages as he stared at the numbers and items for a while. He noticed some anomaly. He turned to return to his seat with his full concentration on the ledger.
His eyes narrowed. "How?" he muttered. He stood up, went back to the shelf and picked up other ledgers. He flipped through their pages one by one. Approved wages but not disbursed, funds diverted to other suspicious accounts, and missing figures. Someone was clearly altering the accounts, hiding it behind the empire that his father built. The numbers don't add up.
His mind drifted to Grace. He remembered her words again, "It's not noise, it's life." For the first time, he wondered if it wasn't just noise after all.
There was a knock on the door. The head of the house entered.
"Your mother is back, she asks of you, sir."
He stood up, leaving all he was doing and left the study.
Mrs. Cole. An average height Lady in her mid-sixties. Her presence silenced the room. Elegant in pearls and a tailored black dress with her eyes as sharp as glass. Behind her calm smile is a woman who had learn to bend power to her will.
"If it isn't my priceless jewel," she said warmly as she spread her hands to embrace Donald. Donald walked forward with haste, falling into her embrace.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "He left so much weight on your shoulders. We didn't prepare you for it yet. But I know you'll win, because with this weight comes so much power. And the power is not to be wasted." She said as she stared into his eyes.
"It's fine, mom, I understand." He said with a gentle smile. "How was your journey?"
"Boring…" she said as she bent to pick up her purse. "Come now, I'll tell you all about it."
He went with her towards the east wing of the mansion.
*****************
Early the next morning, Donald returned to the study, still observing the numbers in the ledger. Collins walked into the room. "You sent for me, sir." He said as he stretched to see what Donald was flipping through.
There was silence in the room for a moment. Donald's finger traced the numbers in the ledger while he made inaudible sounds with his lips. He finally asks, cutting the silence.
"How long have you worked with Cole Group?" He asked without looking away from the ledgers.
"A little above 10 years, sir," Collins replied.
Donald raises his head slowly. He stares at Collins sternly. "Then that means you should be aware of the figures I am seeing here." He pauses to read Collins's reaction. "Someone is trying so hard to cover their tracks. Unauthorized funds are sent to offshore accounts. If anyone outside finds these books, it could cost the company tons of lawsuits that could sink us into debt."
"I don't understand sir." Collins said with a shaky voice as he took a step forward.
Donald's eyes narrowed.
"Don't play ignorant with me, Collins." He paused, then exhaled, as if reluctantly. "The journalist, Grace, I want to speak with her. Arrange a meeting for us."
"Sir…" Collins said, frowning.
"What?" Donald cut abruptly. "You don't know how to arrange a meeting too.?"
"That's not the case, sir." Collins said carefully, taking another step forward. "I can find her. But I strongly suggest you speak with Mrs. Cole before you do anything."
Donald shook his head. "I don't want to burden her. She just got back and she still misses dad." He said as he turned to face the ledger. "I can handle this."
"Sir, it's not about handling. With respect sir, Mrs. …" Collins said as he leaned towards the desk.
"Do as you are told, Collins" Donald said without raising his head.
"Very well sir," Collins said as he placed his hand on the table. Donald's eyes fell on his hands as he slowly raised his eyes until they fell on Collins's face.
"I strongly suggest you speak with your mother before you take any steps," Collins said. He turned to leave the study.
Donald stood alone in the study, his hands resting on the ledger but his voice was far away. Grace's voice haunted him, sharper now than ever. He didn't think about what Collin said. Approaching his mother was the least of his problems. Moreover, what would his mother know about missing funds? His mind was fixed on Grace.
"I need to hear what she has to say. She may be up to something after all." He said as he placed his elbow on the table, locking his fingers. He began to wonder if it was just the ledger that made him want to see Grace. He tried to convince himself that it was just information he needed from her. But deep inside, it was more than that.
He shook his head as he focused on the ledger one more time. "Who could be behind this?" he muttered to himself. He stood up to leave the study. He picked up his jacket as he walked out of the study.
**********************
One thing Grace hated about her ordinary life was boarding a bus every morning to work and every evening back home. The dusty seat had already stained her white skirt. She sat uncomfortably between two chubby women. They squeezed her; she could barely move.
When the bus finally reached her stop, she stepped down and straightened her skirt. She took a deep breath, the thought of her new lead pushed her forward. She made her way into the office. She entered, greeting her colleagues with a smile on her face.
She made her way to her desk. She sat down and plugged in her dead phone. She immediately switched on the phone. Tons of notifications poured in. She scrolled through them, checking the relevant ones and swiping away the irrelevant ones. Her eyes fell on a message from an unknown number. She opened it. "Grace, the Cole won't fall because of your scribbles. Stop asking about Bernard, it will only get you killed."
Grace forced a smile. "I'd like to see them try." She said as she picked up her notebook. She wrote: If they are trying to stop me, that means I'm on to something.
"Bernard may not be a dead end after all." She muttered as she switched off her phone, facing her computer. Her eyes lit up as she dug into Bernard's story online. She found an old article dated twenty-nine years ago: Bernard had worked in Cole Oil for eight years. He died in a car accident just a week before he was to appear on Arise TV. His wife who was the head of the house in the Cole mansion, had disappeared mysteriously three weeks later.
As she scrolled through other articles, she found a picture. Not very clear but visible enough to her. It was a picture of Mrs. Benard and her son, 2 days before she disappeared. The caption said she was last seen at the City Hospital. Her belonging wasn't found in the apartment, so neighbors felt she had moved out of town.
Grace bit her lips as she smiled faintly. "The City hospital, that's a new lead."
She copied the address from her browser, packed her notebook and pen into her bag as she walked out of the office.
At the Hospital, the receptionist, an average height lady in her mid-thirties, told her to come back the next day.
Disappointed, Grace turned to leave. Her phone buzzed again. A message this time, from Coil Oil Group.
"Mr. Cole would like to see you. This evening by 5 PM at the Cole Group Building." The message read.
Grace smiled faintly. She told herself it was only because she had finally gotten a breakthrough in the story. But her heart skipped in a way that had nothing to do with journalism.
Donald sat in his car, gently massaging his chin. His thoughts circled Grace, the journalist who refused to bow and his meeting with her this evening.
"We are here, sir." The driver said looking at Donald's puzzled face. "Do you want to stay in the car for a bit longer?"
The driver's voice cut through Donald's thoughts. Donald's eyes narrowed. He ignores his driver as he opens the door and steps out of the vehicle. For the first time in years, numbers weren't the only thing troubling him.
He wanted to see her. He needed to see her.
And somewhere in the middle of danger and suspicion, desire was beginning to take root.