Hera sat back down on her seat and began drumming her fingers on the table, eager to hear Raymond’s word.
“So? Go on Raymond.” She ordered.
Raymond crept to the seat that’s across from Hera’s and flopped on it, pinching the skin of his forehead.
“I thought everything went as planned that night until four years ago when I met her.” He began.
Hera’s eyes glued to his, rage evident on her face. She clamped on her chocolate mug and downed two gulps.
“Where did you meet her?” She asked, her eyes blinking rapidly. Raymond spared her a glance and muttered.
“In the Monson group.”
“She works there? What does she do there?” She probed further.
Raymond hesitated. It was as if he was weighing his answers but the uneasiness on Hera’s face nudged him to speak.
“No. She’s a Monson.” He
