Several days slipped by.
Life settled into something that almost resembled a routine.
Three days each week, Malissa spoke to her father through the scheduled prison calls. They were never long, but they were enough. Enough to remind her that he was still fighting. Enough to reassure her mother that they were still a family, despite the walls separating them.
On the remaining days, she visited the hospital.
Evelyn continued responding well to treatment, and each visit left Malissa with a little more hope than the last.
Alexander, meanwhile, left for work before sunrise most mornings and rarely returned before evening.
Their paths crossed only briefly.
A quiet greeting.
A nod.
Sometimes nothing at all.
It was an arrangement that suited them both.
Or so they believed.
By late afternoon, the penthouse felt unusually still.
Malissa stood in her bedroom, carefully arranging the stack of sketches she had accumulated over the years.
Some had been drawn during lectures at design school.
Others during lunch breaks at Aurora Publishing.
Many had been folded into handbags, forgotten beneath bills and hospital receipts.
She smoothed one page before closing the portfolio.
Enough for today.
She glanced toward the window.
The evening sky had begun turning shades of orange and violet.
For a moment, she considered taking a walk.
The thought disappeared almost as quickly as it came.
Not while half the internet seemed interested in knowing what Alexander Marquez's girlfriend looked like.
Instead, she wandered downstairs.
The television offered little more than background noise.
She settled onto the sofa with a cushion tucked beneath one arm and absentmindedly flipped through the channels.
A music program flashed briefly across the screen.
A familiar group appeared in the middle of an interview.
A small smile tugged at her lips.
"BTS..."
She paused for a minute, listening as the members laughed over a question from the host.
"I've missed these guys."
The smile lingered.
Only after the interview ended did she resume changing channels.
She eventually settled on a fashion documentary.
The quiet narration blended with the warmth of the room.
Before long, sleep claimed her.
The private dining room overlooked the city through floor to ceiling windows.
Dinner had concluded nearly twenty minutes earlier.
Contracts had been signed.
Hands had been shaken.
The final toast had been made.
Alexander walked beside his business associates toward the restaurant entrance, exchanging the last of the evening's courtesies.
"It was a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Marquez."
"The feeling is mutual."
After the final farewell, the group dispersed.
The chauffeur was already waiting outside.
Mike fell into step beside Alexander as they walked toward the waiting car.
He waited until they were beyond earshot of everyone else.
"One more thing, sir."
Alexander glanced at him.
"The Riverton acquisition should be finalized before the end of the week."
Alexander gave a single nod.
"Good."
Mike closed the folder in his hand.
"The inquiries concerning Miss Fisher have changed."
Alexander waited.
"They're no longer reviewing her background."
"They're following her movements."
A brief silence passed between them.
"Can we identify who's behind it?"
"Not yet."
"But we're getting closer."
Alexander opened the rear door of the car.
"Continue."
"Quietly."
Mike inclined his head.
"Understood."
Alexander entered the car.
Moments later, the sedan disappeared into the evening traffic.
Across the city, Clarissa Vale lowered her sunglasses as the man seated opposite her slid a slim envelope across the café table.
"I've looked into everything available."
She didn't touch it.
"I already know her background."
"I don't need another report."
The investigator nodded.
"Then what do you need?"
Clarissa leaned back.
"I want to know if they're real."
He frowned.
"'They'?"
"Alexander and Malissa."
"Follow her."
"I want to know where she goes."
"Who she meets."
"What she does."
"If there's something she's hiding..."
She smiled faintly.
"...find it."
"And if there isn't?"
Clarissa's fingers tapped lightly against the table.
"There always is."
"If she doesn't have a weakness..."
Her smile faded.
"...I'll create one."
The investigator understood.
He picked up the envelope again.
There was no need for paperwork anymore.
He already had his assignment.
The gates to the Marquez residence opened automatically.
Alexander stepped inside moments later.
The house was unusually quiet.
One of the housekeepers approached with a respectful nod.
"Good evening, sir."
He acknowledged her without slowing his pace.
As he entered the living room, he stopped.
Malissa was asleep.
The television continued playing at a low volume.
One arm rested beneath her cheek while the other lay loosely across the cushion she had hugged to herself.
A few loose strands of hair had escaped behind one ear. She looked... Peaceful.
Alexander stood there for a brief moment.
His gaze lingered longer than he realized.
She's... Pretty.
The thought arrived without warning.
His brows drew together almost imperceptibly.
Where did that come from?
He looked away.
The housekeeper had quietly followed him into the room, waiting for instructions.
Alexander's expression returned to its usual calm.
"It's getting cold."
A short pause.
"Cover her."
"Yes, sir."
He turned toward the staircase.
After climbing the first few steps, he stopped.
Without looking back, he added,
"Turn the television off."
"Yes, sir."
He continued upstairs.
The housekeeper retrieved a light throw from the nearby armchair before gently draping it over Malissa.
Careful not to wake her.
She switched off the television.
The room fell into a comfortable silence.
Upstairs, Alexander loosened his tie as he walked toward his room.
For reasons he couldn't explain, the image of Malissa asleep on the sofa lingered in his thoughts a little longer than it should have.