Episode3
1060 Words
"Why are you here?" Petra asked.
"I happened to be passing by. Oh, why were you there? Coming out of the flower shop?"
Petra was startled. Flower shop? Ah, there was indeed a flower shop right next to that alley. "Yes, I was just looking at the flowers there. But they didn’t have what I was looking for," Petra lied.
"What kind of flower do you want? I can buy it for you right now," Pascal said.
"Pink Jasmine flower." Petra just made it up. She doubted if there was even a pink Jasmine flower. Haha. She felt like laughing right now. It was amusing to fool a man so respected by many.
"Alright. I'll ask Varios to buy it now." Pascal pulled out his phone from his jacket pocket. Pascal's words immediately startled Petra.
Petra suddenly panicked. What if that type of flower really didn’t exist? Pascal might start suspecting her. "No! Don't, it’s not important anymore." She quickly stopped Pascal's hand from dialing Varios’s number.
"Why not? You want it, right?" Pascal asked.
"Not anymore, now that I've met you. Can't we spend time together today?" Petra teased, trying to divert Pascal's attention.
"A date? Great idea!" Pascal exclaimed happily. "But, I'm on my way to an important event at a hotel. Since you're here, you have to come with me. We'll stop by a boutique first. Pick out a nice outfit there."
"What kind of event is it?" This was the first time since marrying Pascal that Petra was invited to an important event.
"The event is attended by businessmen from various sectors. It’s a great opportunity to build business relationships with new people."
***
Petra's eyes scanned the guests carefully. Many famous business figures were here.
"This is my wife." Pascal introduced Petra to his business associates. They stood elegantly side by side.
"Oh! You're married? Congratulations!"
"Hello, my name is Hans. Nice to meet you, madam." Hans shook Petra's hand warmly. A man in his forties, he was the owner of the most casinos in the city.
"I’ve been Pascal’s business partner for the past five years."
"Thank you for trusting my husband in business."
"Oh, by the way, since I got here, I haven't seen Joel Madden. He usually never misses this meeting." Hans said to Pascal.
"Maybe he's busy," Pascal replied with a sweet smile. Meanwhile, Petra stood shocked.
Because the name mentioned just now was the name of the governor's son who mysteriously died. Petra's secret mission was to find his killer.
"Who is Joel Madden?" Petra pretended to ask.
"He's the son of a governor. Even though he's young, he's a smart businessman," Hans explained.
So, the governor's son, Joel Madden, was active in this group? Petra felt she must not miss any information from this place.
"Do you know him well?" Petra asked.
"We often go drinking together." Hans answered.
"Hans, we need to go," Pascal interrupted, pulling Petra’s hand.
"Pascal, we're not done talking to him. Don't you like him?" Petra grew suspicious of Pascal's behavior. It seemed as if he was hiding something he didn’t want Petra to know.
"He talks too much about unimportant things. It’s a waste of my time," Pascal replied, looking coldly ahead.
"Pascal, I need to go to the restroom."
"Alright. I'll wait here."
Petra entered the ladies' restroom. She only stood in front of the sink, thinking.
"Are you Pascal’s wife?" Suddenly, a woman came out of a toilet stall and stood next to her, washing her hands.
"Yes... Do you know him?" Petra responded.
"I’m Hans’s wife. We often meet for business matters."
"I heard you all are close with Joel Madden? What do you think of him?"
"He’s a charismatic and straightforward man. Rumor has it he’s facing bankruptcy and is looking for investors everywhere. However, because of his capricious nature, people have to think twice before investing in him."
"So, where is he usually?" Petra asked.
"He owns the Rosee pub. He’s usually there," the woman said as she finished drying her hands.
"Do you want to meet him? You should be careful. He’s flirty with women and a bit crazy." The woman then left the restroom, while Petra pondered a new plan.
***
At midnight, Petra went to the pub alone without telling Pascal. He was still busy with his work.
"Hey, pretty. Why are you alone?"
"Do you know a man named Joel Madden?" Petra countered.
"Joel Madden, that’s me. Are you looking for me to have some fun?" The stranger grinned lewdly.
"No! Go away!" Petra refused. She knew Joel Madden's face. The man was already dead. But she only needed information about him here.
"Why doesn’t a beautiful woman like you want to? Look around, many are having fun until they pass out."
Petra became anxious. The man started touching her inappropriately, wrapping his arm around Petra’s waist intimately.
Suddenly, a punch landed on the lecherous man’s face. Petra was startled. She realized the perpetrator was Pascal.
"Touch what's mine, and you're dead tonight!" Pascal snarled angrily. Then he turned to Petra with a furious look.
"Go home!" Pascal dragged Petra out of the pub.
"Pascal! It hurts! My hand hurts! Let go!" Petra screamed, trying to keep up with Pascal’s hurried steps.
But Pascal roughly shoved Petra into the car.
"Ouch! Pascal! You're so rough with your wife!" Her wrist was turning red.
Pascal crawled over Petra while the car door closed. "You left without telling me. Why did you go there, dear? Were you looking for entertainment from scoundrels?"
Petra's position was threatened. In the car, it was just the two of them. "No. I wasn't looking for entertainment from men. I just wanted to have a drink," Petra lied, looking away.
The sharp yet sexy gaze from Pascal made her heart pound. Even though she had a knife hidden under her clothes, Petra felt powerless under Pascal's weight.
"Look at me, my wife." Pascal gently turned her chin to face him.
"I'm telling the truth. I hadn't even been there for five minutes when you arrived." Petra tried to convince him, looking seriously into his eyes.
"I... was just lonely at home. You always come home late. Do you know how it feels to be lonely, huh?" This time, Petra tried a bit of drama.
"Darling..." Pascal seemed to start softening.
***
- Writer
