Chapter 6 -Maniacs Are Everywhere
1336 Words
The precinct smelled faintly of disinfectant and old paper, the air sticky with humidity despite the humming electric fans scattered around. The fluorescent lights flickered intermittently, casting a sickly yellow glow over chipped desks piled high with folders, scattered pens, and lukewarm coffee mugs. The low murmur of conversations, clacking of keyboards, and occasional ringing phones blended into a restless background noise.
Alondra was still fuming. Her heels clicked sharply on the cracked linoleum tiles as she marched back to the table where the man, her so-called attacker, sat confidently, dictating his statement to a police officer like he was some kind of VIP.
She glared at him, her chest tight with indignation.
Yes, he’s handsome. Absurdly so. But that doesn’t erase the fact he’s a maniac, she thought bitterly. His wet hair, now drying into unruly waves, framed a strong jaw dusted with stubble. Even in a plain robe, he exuded a kind of easy dominance that made people take him seriously. That only enraged her more.
What pissed her off most was how easily the police were entertaining him. Just because he spoke like a wealthy man and carried himself with unshakable confidence, they hung onto his every word.
What is happening to this world? Alondra seethed internally. Were they really ganging up on me just because I don’t look rich? Where’s the justice in that?
The two security guards from the condo stood nearby, arms crossed. They didn’t know her; they weren’t the ones on duty when she arrived yesterday. She’d tried explaining that, but no one cared to listen. No one even paused to consider that she was the woman who almost got r***d. Instead, they believed a drunk man with hypnotic good looks and smooth words.
She was cursed. Truly cursed. First her home burned down, leaving her homeless, and now she was being accused of p**********n and extortion.
“When I got out of the bathroom, I just saw her kneeling down in front of me,” the man was saying smoothly, his deep voice carrying effortlessly across the room. His tone was calm, almost bored, like he was recounting something trivial. “I don’t know if that was her style, but what I know is that she was the one my friends gifted me for my birthday.”
Alondra’s vision blurred at the edges. She felt light-headed as humiliation and rage swirled violently in her chest. Gifted? Me? A gift?
Her only lifeline was Tracy. She had called her boss, hoping she would come soon. If Tracy didn’t show up, Alondra didn’t know what she’d do. Marlowe, her best friend, was dealing with his own crisis after his mother’s boarding house burned down. Tracy was her last hope—the one person who could confirm she wasn’t some wandering streetwalker.
“Sir, are you hiring services from a p********e? You know that’s against the law, don’t you?” the policeman asked, pen poised over his notepad.
Micah shook his head with a small, amused smile. “No. Of course not. That’s why I told her to leave because I didn’t need her services. That’s when she started screaming rape.”
The policeman nodded like he’d heard it all before. “Well, that is possible. This isn’t the first time we’ve had complaints like this, sir. These prostitutes are clever now. They fake being forced to get more money out of their customers.” He glanced at Alondra with a mixture of pity and disgust.
She snapped.
“Mr. Policeman, don’t look at me like that! I am not a p********e!” Her voice cracked, thick with anger and desperation. “Instead of wasting time chatting with this guy, can you hurry up and finish his statement so I can give mine? Enough with the side comments! I really can’t understand how you can easily believe a drunkard!”
“I am not drunk, Miss. I had a few drinks, but I’m not drunk,” said the man. the handsome r****t, as she’d labeled him in her head. His voice was maddeningly calm. “I can even add physical injury to my complaint. You hit me with your knee on my…”
“I hope you get barren!” she shot back, her cheeks flushing hot with rage.
“I even thought you were an exorcist. You even brought a crucifix. Were you not ashamed to bring a cross to your work? If you’re not a p********e, what are you then? My spiritual advisor?”
She wanted to cry. She clenched her fists tightly at her sides, willing herself not to break down. Why? Why does everyone believe him? What is it about this man that makes people hang on his every word? I’m the victim here!
“He’s a trespasser!” she shouted.
“A trespasser in my own property?” he retorted, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Maybe you’re the trespasser, Miss. Who among my friends gave you my passcode? Was it Arice? Steele also knows about it.”
“You’re the owner?” Alondra laughed bitterly, the sound tinged with hysteria. “What owner? The real owner of the condo is still abroad. You can’t fool me. The nerve.”
“Well, I had just arrived. How about you? What were you doing in my condo?” Micah’s tone turned cold, sharp enough to cut glass.
“Mr. Policeman, please give this man a coffee to wake him up. He’s drunk. You’ll see. My immediate superior is coming, and you’ll all realize this man is an impostor. I’ll make sure he’s the one who ends up in jail,” she said with conviction, though her insides quaked.
This guy could be a con artist for all she knew. Once Tracy arrived, the truth would come out.
She was about to give her statement when Tracy finally arrived, heels clicking sharply on the precinct’s grimy floor. Alondra ran to her halfway, clutching at her arm like a drowning woman grabbing a lifeline.
“Ma’am, please help me. It was I who was almost r***d by a trespasser, yet I’m being accused of being a p********e!” Her voice shook violently.
Tracy’s face turned crimson with anger. “I can’t believe such a thick-faced guy exists! Where? Where’s that bastard? The nerve. I’ll have Duterte erase his face. I’ll put him in his place.”
“That’s him!” Alondra pointed furiously.
Tracy marched forward, her stride like a soldier’s. Her lips curved into a smirk, ready to tear into the man.
“You… you deserve to be electro-” She froze mid-word as her eyes landed on his face. Her anger dissolved into confusion, then shock. “M-Micah? Micah, you’re back?”
Her voice softened as she reached out, touching his cheek. “I didn’t recognize you. Your skin got darker. What happened to you? And you’re growing grass on your face now?”
“It’s just a few stubble,” Micah said, amused.
“We were so worried about you. We thought you didn’t plan to come back to the Philippines. Today’s your birthday, and you didn’t even tell us you were coming. I could have prepared a welcome party.” Tracy hugged him tightly. “It’s good to see you home.”
“Tracy, can you prove to them that I’m really Micah Bergonia, the owner of the Penthouse B unit in Robinson’s Tower?” Micah asked, his voice smooth but firm, his gaze never leaving Alondra’s pale, horrified face.
“Of course. He’s Micah Bergonia, my cousin. What’s the problem? What happened exactly?”
Micah Bergonia? Alondra felt the floor tilt beneath her feet. Micah Bergonia. That's the name of my big boss?
Her stomach dropped as heat flushed her face. Oh no. Oh no no no.
This gorgeous man, whose body she had almost memorized earlier, was her boss. The man she’d kneed between the legs and called a r****t. The one she’d nearly exorcised.
She was going to be fired. Or worse.
- Writer
