Chapter 3
1018 Words
Mia POV
"I know, but you can't understand. There was a misunderstanding with the NYPD and—"
"I'm sorry Miss Lawrenson, but there's nothing I can do about it."
"Please, just let him know it was not in my power and—"
"Ma'am you're causing a disruption. I'm afraid I might have to ask you to leave, or you'll be attracting security."
"Please I—"
"I'm sorry Mia," she said softly. "Mr. Anderson is very particular about these things."
I didn't leave though.
Despite being instructed to do so by the secretary, despite standing there for more than five minutes like a zombie, I still didn't leave.
I wasn't aware of what I was doing anymore. I just knew that I couldn't go home yet. Not like this.
So I walked around the building slowly. Along the glass doors and employee entrances and delivery points. Then a guard who didn't even bother to stop me. I looked down at my feet and kept walking.
I finally ended up near the garage. There were faint sounds of clattering tools and music from a phone somewhere. A man was working on a car in the back. Two others stood near a shelf, talking, one of them pointing at the car.
"That's for the boss. Ready to roll in ten."
Boss.
Alexander.
What if I followed him home? He would at least hear me out, wouldn't he?
I looked around. Nobody was noticing anything.
Before I could second-guess myself, I walked slowly over, opened the trunk, and climbed in.
It wasn't smart and I wasn't comfortable. It wasn't even particularly clean. But I climbed in anyway, closed the trunk behind me, and curled into the smallest shape my body would take.
If I suffocate in here, at least I'll die knowing I tried.
Nothing was going on for ages. My legs already hurt. I shifted a little, trying to create space for my foot.
Ugh, this is so stupid. He's going to think I'm insane. Maybe I am.
The air was stale and hot. My knees kept bumping against the metal and I was sweating through my shirt. I wanted to give up and climb out of the trunk.
But if Dad were alive, he'd tell me not to come back empty-handed.
The car began to move shortly after that, so I heaved a sigh of relief.
We traveled for a while. I couldn't tell where we were going or how long we'd been traveling. I hoped he was going home and not to some meeting or something. I stayed there for what seemed like an eternity and I just knew that by the time the car stopped, I was dizzy.
The trunk opened.
"What the hell—"
I blinked in the glare. He backed away as though he'd seen a ghost.
"Are you stalking me?" he asked.
Oh s**t. What the hell was this man from the NYPD office doing here?
I sat up slowly and got out. I looked like I'd rolled through a garbage can and maybe smelled worse.
"I had to talk to Mr. Anderson," I explained.
The man looked around as though cameras would suddenly leap out.
"You do realize this is trespassing. And also ridiculous," Alexander said. He was a few steps behind this man, looking relaxed as though none of this bothered him.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I just had to speak to you."
He looked at me for a moment. "You're a very persistent woman, Miss Lawrenson. But I'm afraid I can't assist you."
Two security guards moved in.
"I've been cleared by the police," I said quickly. "My CFO—he did it. He stole the money. I need your assistance. I'll do anything."
Alexander paused. He looked at me for a while longer.
"Anything, you say?"
I nodded. "Yes."
"Enter," he said.
*+*+*+*+*+*+
They kept me waiting again.
This time in a smaller room, with cold air and no music. I sat in a chair with my hands in my lap, looking down at the folder in front of me. My head was starting to hurt.
Thirty minutes later, one of the staff members came in. "He's ready for you."
I stood and followed them down the hall. All of the rooms were quiet, and some of them already had some lights switched off. The hall appeared to stretch on forever.
Alexander was seated at a dining table. He had a glass in his hand and a folder on the table.
"I still want to see the documents," he said.
I nodded and stepped forward. I gave him the folder. He opened it and read through each page slowly.
The man was beside him. He had his arms crossed.
The room was too silent.
Finally, Alexander set the folder down.
"This is very, very bad," he said.
The man from the NYPD leaned forward and turned a few pages. "It's no use," he said. "There's nothing to save. Don't waste your time Dad."
Okay, so this has to be the infamous Peter Anderson.
I looked at both of them. "I know. I've done everything I can. I don't know what else to do."
Alexander didn't speak.
I just stood there waiting.
"So… Can you help?"
Alexander lifted his eyes slowly. He was smiling slightly, but it wasn't a nice smile. It was the kind of smile people have on their faces when they are having fun watching you squirm. His eyes were unblinking, and there was something in the way he looked that made my stomach twist.
Oh God. Is he going to ask me to do something illegal? Do people get pulled into things like this?
You're being dramatic. This isn't a Netflix crime drama.
He stood up and walked over to the window. He looked outside and didn't turn around.
"You're going to marry my son," he said.
Peter choked on air.
"What?" I said.
He turned around slowly. "You heard me."
Peter looked at me, then at his father. "You've lost it."
I was frozen. I was speechless.
None of this was making sense.
- Writer
