Chapter 47

Chapter 47

Wendy sat in a dimly lit hotel room, holding a glass of alcohol and her legs crossed, her black heels tapping gently against the floor as she moved the glass in her hand, her thoughts traveling far.

The room was quiet as she stared into space, but was brought back to herself when the door creaked open.

Wendy’s gaze shifted to the entrance as three men stepped inside, their faces serious. She stared at them for a while before finally talking.

“Well?” she finally said, her voice sharp and commanding. “What did you find out?”

One of the men stepped forward, his hat gripped tightly in his hands. “Kathryn is living with James.”

The glass slipped slightly in Wendy’s hand, her eyes snapping up to meet him. “What did you just say?”

The man cleared his throat nervously. “Kathryn. She’s living with James. They’re staying together.”

Wendy stood to her feet, the chair sounding with a screech against the tile floor as it was shoved back.

She shot them a hard glare.

“Are you sure?” she hissed, turning sharply to glare at the men.

They nodded in unison, uncomfortable under her icy stare.

Wendy’s face was filled with anger as she ran her hand through her hair, pacing faster.

“What in the world is going on? How does Kathryn know James? James!” she spat the name like it tasted bitter on her tongue.

She paused half way, her gaze fixed somewhere on the floor as her mind worked furiously. “This doesn’t add up. James should have nothing to do with her… unless…” Her eyes narrowed, and she slammed her palm down onto the table, the sound ringing through the room. The men flinched.

“Is James playing some kind of silly game?” she muttered to herself, her teeth gritted. “Or is this just a coincidence?”

She turned back toward the men, pointing a finger at them. “Find out how they know each other. I want to know everything, where they met, how long they’ve been in touch, everything!”

“Yes, ma’am,” one of the men replied quickly, but Wendy was already pacing again, lost in thought.

“I have to think of another strategy,” she said under her breath, her voice cold and calculated. “This changes everything. If Kathryn has James… if he’s involved…” She strode off, a dangerous gleam in her eye as she stopped pacing and stood still, staring out the window into the dark city.

There was silence in the room for a long moment, the men waiting nervously for her next move. Wendy slowly turned her head, smile creeping to her cheeks.

“James might think he’s clever,” she said softly, her voice low and dangerous. “But I’ll remind him who he’s dealing with.”

She picked up the glass of alcohol from the table, her grip steady this time. She raised it to her lips and took a long sip, her eyes fixed on the men like a predator sizing up her prey.

“Now go,” she commanded. “I need answers. Fast.”

The men nodded quickly and hurried out of the room, leaving Wendy alone again. She stood still for a moment, the faint sound of the door closing echoing through the room. Then, slowly, she sank back into the chair, placing the empty glass back on the table.

Her fingers drummed against the wood as she leaned back, her eyes rolling round as though looking for what isn't lost.

“James,” she whispered to herself, a cruel smile playing on her lips. “You just made this interesting.”

———

Wendy woke up early the next morning, the sunlight entering through the cracks of the hotel curtains. She barely slept, her mind had been racing all night.

Kathryn with James. It didn’t sit right with her, not at all. Something was off, and she needed to figure it out.

By the time Wendy was dressed and out of the door, her plan was clear. She had to keep tabs on Lyon. He would lead her to whatever truth she was missing.

She pulled her black car out of the parking lot and put on her sunglasses.

The roads were already bustling as the city came alive for the day, but Wendy didn’t care. She gripped the steering wheel tightly, maneuvering through traffic with the impatience of someone on a mission.

Her car skidded to a halt outside Lyon’s company building, and she parked discreetly across the street, leaning back in her seat like she was just another driver killing time.

Her eyes, however, were locked on the entrance to the massive glass-fronted building. She knew Lyon’s routine. Or at least, she thought she did. He was usually early, always the first to arrive and the last to leave. Today, she was betting on him stepping out for a meeting or a coffee, something that would give her the chance to trail him.

Wendy sat there for a long time, her foot tapping restlessly against the floor of the car. The minutes dragged by, then turned into hours. She checked her watch for the fifth time and frowned. “What’s taking so long?” she muttered under her breath, glancing at the building entrance.

She stepped out to get coffee from a close by restaurant and after that, she went back to observing. Even when she was in the restaurant, she made sure no detail passed her by.

Employees walked in and out, men in suits, women carrying files and coffee cups, but there was no sign of Lyon. Wendy’s patience began to wear thin. She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, her eyes darting from the entrance to her phone.

“Come on, Lyon…” she hissed. “Where are you?”

She imagined him sitting in his office, probably buried in work as always. Wendy knew how stubborn he could be, one-track minded when something was bothering him. But what is he up to now? she thought, her lips pursed tightly.

After what felt like forever, Wendy exhaled sharply and pulled off her sunglasses, throwing them onto the passenger seat. Her frustration had reached its peak. “He’s not coming out,” she said aloud, shaking her head.

She checked her rearview mirror and started the engine. If Lyon wasn’t going to leave his office, she’d take matters into her own hands. I’ll go straight to his house, she thought, gripping the wheel again. If he wasn’t here, then there was a chance she’d catch him there.

The engine started in no time as she drove off, it was already evening, the sun wasn't shining anymore.

Wendy parked her car outside Lyon’s house and sat there for a minute, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. The place looked quiet, too quiet for her liking. She climbed out of the car and marched straight to the gate, her heels hitting the pavement hard.

She knocked sharply on the iron gate, the sound loud enough to echo. A few seconds later, the gateman pulled the gate slightly open and peered out.

“Yes? Who are you looking for?” he asked, looking at her suspiciously.

Wendy tilted her head, giving him a sharp look. “I’m here to see Lyon. Open the gate.”

“Mr. Lyon isn’t around. Who are you?” he repeated firmly.

Wendy let out a small sigh, her irritation clear. “I know the owner of this house. We’re close. Just open the gate and stop wasting my time.”

The gateman frowned, shaking his head. “I can’t let you in. Mr. Lyon didn’t tell me anything about visitors.”

Wendy’s face hardened. “Listen, I don’t have time for this. But you better open that gate because I’m not leaving.”

The man stared at her for a long second, clearly unsure. Finally, he sighed and opened the gate, muttering under his breath. “I hope this doesn’t get me into trouble.”

Wendy didn’t respond. She just stepped inside with her usual confidence, not bothering to thank him. The house looked just as she remembered it, big, polished, and quiet. But something was off. She glanced around as she walked up the driveway and noticed Lyon’s car wasn’t parked where it should be.

The gate man had said Lyon wasn't around. Lyon usually use for trips wasn't there, only his office cars were packed.

“hmmm,” she mumbled, narrowing her eyes. “Where could he be?”

She walked straight to the front door, her heels clicking against the tiles. To her surprise, the door was slightly open. Without hesitation, she pushed it further and stepped inside. The house was still.

Her eyes scanned the living room. Nothing. Everything was in its place, too neat, too still.

Then, footsteps echoed from the hallway. Wendy turned sharply to see Fiona walking in, a small tray of glasses in her hands.

The moment Fiona saw Wendy, she froze, her face twisting in surprise and irritation. “What are you doing here?” Fiona’s voice was blunt.

Wendy smirked, crossing her arms. “Relax, girl. I’m here to see Lyon. Where is he?”

Fiona frowned deeply, setting the tray down on a table. “Mr. Lyon isn’t here.”

Wendy’s smirk faltered slightly, but she quickly hid it. “His door was open.”

“That doesn’t mean you can just walk into someone’s house,” Fiona shot back, stepping closer.

“Is that so?” Wendy sneered. “Where is he then?”

Fiona didn’t flinch. “I already said he’s not here. And you need to leave before he comes back.”

Wendy turned to leave but stopped in her tracks, “is he at the office then?”

“I thought you worked for him,” Fiona noted, trying to get to her.

Wendy smirked and turned, “where's Lyon?”

“He's on a trip.” Fiona answered.

Wendy walked briskly out of the apartment, without looking, she climbed her car outside and zoomed off.

Wendy pushed open the hotel room door, her heels clicking hard against the floor as she walked in. She tossed her bag onto the chair like it weighed nothing.

The room was dim, curtains drawn, as Wendy turned on the light, a man was sitted on the couch with a glass of whiskey in hand.

“Good news for me?” Wendy asked, her voice sharp but tired, as she loosened her blazer and rubbed her neck.

The man stood up slowly, like he wasn’t in a rush. He walked over, stopping right behind her. His hands moved to her shoulders, pressing gently as he started to massage. Wendy didn’t stop him, her body felt like a knot.

“Kathryn,” he said after a while, his voice quiet, “Kathryn the problem right now.”

Wendy chuckled, tilting her head slightly as her lips curled into a smile. “Kathryn…” she repeated, almost like she was tasting the name. “Always her.”

The man leaned in a little, his fingers still working her shoulders. “So… how do we take them down?”

Wendy stood still for a second, her smile widening. “I have my ways,” she said calmly, a touch of mischief in her tone. “Trust me.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “That’s what I like about you. Always a step ahead.”

Wendy finally turned to face him, brushing his hands off her shoulders as she moved past him. “It’s not about being ahead,” she said, her voice steady. “It’s about knowing where to hit, and when.”

He watched her, swirling the whiskey in his glass. “You really think she won’t see it coming?”

Wendy picked up the water bottle on the table, took a sip, then looked at him with that same sly smile. “Oh, she won’t. She thinks she’s hiding, living her life, but Kathryn has no idea who she’s dealing with.”

The man laughed again, shaking his head like he was amused. “You’re dangerous, Wendy. I hope you know that.”

Wendy smirked and turned toward the window, “Dangerous? No,” she said softly, more to herself than to him. “I just finish what I start.”

“Well, let’s see how this plays out,” he said, lifting his glass for a toast.

Wendy glanced back at him briefly, a smile playing out in the conner of her lips. “Oh, it’ll play out. You’ll see.”