"Do you think your plan will work?" Jonathan whispered. "She has an ironclad contract. Once she brings it up, we'll have to return her work to her. We'll lose our share."
"Oh, come on!" Ashley rolled her eyes. "Look at her running away. That thought didn't even cross her mind. She'd return to her father's ranch to marry someone to become some farmhand's broodmare." She curled her lips.
Jonathan clenched his jaw. "Do you think it'll work?" he asked, doubtful.
"You broke her heart, Jonathan. What do you think? I know those country bumpkins. My sister-in-law has a modelling agency. Women like her are plenty. Now that she's heartbroken, she'll marry the first guy she sees and settle. She'll be out of our way."
Ashley looked at Jonathan, who still looked in the direction Catherine had disappeared.
"She's one of a kind, Ashley…" he whispered.
Ashley gritted her teeth and pulled him to the side. "Are you seriously pitying her? We need her research if we want BioQuant to look our way. It can cure Alzheimer's, Jonathan! We cannot lose it. That research is worth billions, and we can negotiate. Imagine us as the board members of BioQuant… Imagine the billions… We cannot let her have it. Don't you dare spoil it for us."
That word billions snapped something back into place. His uncertainty vanished. Straightening his suit, he exhaled slowly. "You're right. We'll hire the best lawyers and secure her data before she even realizes what happened."
Ashley's grin returned, all teeth. "That's my boy." She kissed him, slow and claiming, before tracing a manicured finger down his cheek. "Get ready to become a billionaire, darling."
Jonathan smirked. Guilt was a luxury he couldn't afford. All he needed to do now was play the part and pretend to care for that naïve little girl just long enough to destroy her completely.
-----
Catherine watched as Hilbert spun his keys on the table, the soft metallic rhythm betraying his restlessness. She tried, really tried to see if she was attracted to him.
He looked like an ad for a life he didn't understand. Young, polished, and already tired. The kind of man who mistook money for depth, attention for affection. His whole thing was that… his father had a shitload of money.
She watched him behind her wine glass, amused. The sunglasses indoors, the logo on his chest, the diamond watch… each a tiny rebellion against the very wealth he depended on.
What does Daddy see in him? He will lose it all, she thought, not today, but inevitably. Kids like him always did. Money made them bold before it made them wise, especially if it was earned by their father.
Still, she smiled politely when he spoke, as if humoring a beautiful boy reciting lines from a play he didn't write. He had tried hard, booking an entire restaurant for their date. That should make him attractive, but sadly, it did not. She felt like she was talking to a child.
"Excuse me," she said and went to the restroom.
Looking at herself in the mirror, her eyes watered.
That kid might be close to her age, but she found no connection with him. She had lived for 36 years before in her previous life; he felt like he was half her age, mentally.
What am I even doing?
This was what she felt always, and this was the reason she never dated. Boys close to her age felt childish. It was why Jonathan…
Even thinking about him made her heart squeeze in pain. She thought it was just a crush. That was at least what she made herself believe. But now… this pain…
Ah… It's more than a crush, isn't it? Damn!
And the worst part… he had betrayed her. Stabbed her in the back to take her everything.
She stood still in the golden-gilded restroom, surrounded by the warm glow of soft lights. The mirror reflected her pale expression, which was composed, but only barely.
Then, the door opened, and a group of girls spilled in, laughter echoing off the marble walls. Apparently, there was a scion who was having a party in the private hall. They were dressed for attention, all shimmer and perfume, snapping pictures and fixing their lipstick as if the world revolved around their reflections.
Catherine blinked, watching them from the corner of her eye. They looked so at ease here, so perfectly suitable for this world of money and show. Their clothes, their tone, the careless confidence in their laughter… it all fit.
She, on the other hand, did not.
For a moment, she almost smiled at the irony. She had lived through two lifetimes and still couldn't find one she belonged to. Maybe that was why she buried herself in research, as it was the only place she ever felt she had a purpose, a language, a home.
But even that reality was shaking now.
Her throat tightened, but she didn't let the tears fall. Not here. Not for this. Keep yourself together, Catherine!
She took a deep breath, straightened her posture, and fixed her expression in the mirror. She would find a way to save her research. She had to. But first, she needed to end this ridiculous date properly.
When she returned to the table, her steps slowed. Hilbert was no longer alone. A group of men—five, maybe six, had joined him, loud and laughing over drinks. The air had shifted.
Catherine's unease deepened. Something about this didn't feel right at all.
The restaurant was empty except for those men, not even a single waiter in sight. If only she had been like other girls and even half as street smart, she would have taken her purse with her to the powder room.
Now she needed her purse to call someone.
She took a step toward the table when she heard Hilbert speaking to the man who seemed older than the rest.
"Is everything ready? We do not want to be disturbed. We've got a nice entertainment tonight."
"We do," the man replied. "I made sure the whole place is empty for you, Young Lord. All cameras and angles are tested."
Their laughter exploded through the empty restaurant, and Catherine's stomach twisted. Her knees felt weak. The room spun slightly. She wasn't sure if it was fear or something else entirely. She tried to turn back, but her body refused to move.
"My father wants me to marry her for the money, but just look at her," Hilbert said. "She's dressed like Mary f*cking Poppins on a first date. Marry her? Please. I have better plans."
"Mary Poppins? What was your dad thinking?" another man jeered. " BUt I give it an hour before that whole 'proper lady' act cracks. They always do."
"And then they get real eager once they... loosen up," someone else chimed in.
"Done!" Hilbert pulled out a small packet. Pills. That caused all the men to howl and laugh.
Did he spike my drink?
Catherine couldn't piece her thoughts together anymore. She saw the fire alarm on the wall. She tried to take a step, to call for help, but before she could move, her knees buckled, and she collapsed onto the floor.
The laughter stopped.
"Oh, you're back," Hilbert said, walking toward her.
The other men rose as well, their footsteps closing in. Catherine clawed at the floor, desperate to get away, but her limbs felt heavy and distant. Her tongue wouldn't obey her. Whatever he had given her was strong. She knew she was seconds from losing consciousness.
And then… What will happen to me? Cameras? Are they going to…record while…
Here I thought… losing my credibility among my peers was rock bottom… But now… Who will help me?
A pair of shoes appeared in the distance. Suede shoes. She recognized those shoes. There was a faint metallic glint on the sole, the tiny insignia of a private shoemaker who crafted only for a select few. The kind he would never make for just anyone. The man approached her. She wanted to cry, but even that felt impossible. She reached for the shoes.
"Alex…" she managed to whisper as she tried to look at the face of the approaching man.
Am I saved? But the coat… It's not Alex's… who is it?