Chapter 153 Finding Susan
Adela was going too fast. Her car slammed into the guardrail with a sickening crunch.
At the same time, the motorcycle screeched to a halt. "Cindy, are you okay?" Zachary's voice was gentle as his arm stayed wrapped around her waist. Her legs had turned to jelly, feet dangling as she leaned her full weight against him.
Adela sat frozen behind the wheel, mind reeling. How the hell had Zachary found this place?
"Mr. Jennings..." She stumbled out of the car, panic written all over her face.
"Ms. Gomez, consider yourself fired. Effective immediately." Zachary's voice was cold steel, his gaze boring into her. The words hit Adela like a sledgehammer.
"Why? You're firing me because of what, exactly?" Her eyes went red, voice thick with indignation. "I've worked my ass off at Apex Global Group for five years. Even if I wasn't perfect, I put in the time. And now you're just going to can me over this woman without even getting the facts straight?"
Zachary's eyes barely flicked her way. "I told you before—I like her. Nobody gets to hurt someone I care about. You knew that and did it anyway. Ms. Gomez, that reason clear enough for you?"
The woman he liked was untouchable. Simple as that.
Adela's eyelids drooped, fists clenching so tight her knuckles went white. "Why? Why do you have to protect her like this?"
Zachary didn't bother answering. He turned back to Quinley, pulling off his helmet with an almost boyish grin as he placed it on her head. "Come on, Cindy. Let's go home."
He swung back onto the motorcycle, patting the seat behind him. "Hop on. The wind feels amazing tonight."
Quinley glanced back at Adela one last time, that look carrying a thousand unspoken words. Then she climbed on. Zachary grabbed her hands, pulling them around his waist in one smooth motion.
"Hold tight, okay? Here we go!" His whoop echoed as the bike shot forward like an arrow, Adela's silhouette shrinking rapidly behind them.
Back at the apartment in the south district, Quinley blocked Zachary at the door. "You should head back to Maple Estate with Lucas. I need some time alone."
"But I want to stay with you. Please?" He tugged at her sleeve, practically pouting.
She stayed firm. "I'm exhausted. I just want to crash early." After everything that had happened tonight—every heart-stopping moment—she desperately needed rest.
"Okay, but get some sleep, alright? I'll come check on you tomorrow. And if you can't sleep, just text me—I'll come keep you company."
Quinley nodded. Only after seeing Lucas waiting downstairs did Zachary reluctantly leave.
Less than thirty minutes later, Quinley called Detective Wilson. "I need you to run a background check on Adela."
By early next morning, Detective Wilson had sent over a thick file on Adela. But the information was strange—it only covered the past five years. Before that? Nothing. No trace, no history, like she'd simply materialized out of thin air five years ago.
But Quinley already knew the answer.
She'd been planning to reach out to Adela herself when someone knocked. Opening the door, she found Adela standing there with a cold smile playing at her lips.
"Surprised to see me?"
"No. I figured you'd show up."
Quinley turned toward the living room, and Adela followed her inside. They settled on opposite ends of the couch.
Adela's eyes roamed the modest apartment. "Didn't expect you to be living in a place like this. I figured you'd already moved into Mr. Jennings' Maple Estate."
"That's probably where you wish you were, right?"
Adela pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one up right there, smoke curling between them. This version of Adela felt like a stranger—gone was the polished professional, replaced by someone languid and reckless, eyes holding a rebellious edge.
But somehow, this felt more real.
"Sure, I'd love to be there. But—"
"But you're not qualified," Quinley cut in. The words landed hard.
Their eyes locked, Adela's flashing with anger that years of corporate training helped her keep under wraps.
"Maybe not. But neither are you."
She stubbed the cigarette out directly on the coffee table. The atmosphere in the room turned thick, almost suffocating.
Quinley stared at her without blinking. Then: "Susan, why are you doing all this?"
Adela's hand froze on the cigarette butt. Panic flickered across her face before she composed herself.
"Wrong name. I'm Adela."
She lifted her gaze, eyes like still water.
"You are now, sure. Changed your face, changed your records. But you can't change the fact that you're Susan. You went through all this trouble—for what, exactly?"
The scrutiny made Adela's skin crawl. She lit another cigarette, dragging deeply.
"Say I am Susan. Got any proof?"
She'd changed her face, her voice, her entire history. Years had passed with no one figuring it out. And now this utterly ordinary woman sitting across from her had uncovered everything.
"The photo," Quinley said simply. "Turning women you hate into copies of yourself—that's some serious narcissism."
Adela laughed suddenly. "Why not? Let them be my stand-ins. Works out great."
"And what about you? Whose stand-in are you playing now?"
The question hung in the air. Adela took another harsh drag, coughing violently.
"Does it matter? Everyone knows me as Adela. I'm pretty satisfied with this identity."
"Why can't you just be yourself?" Quinley pressed.
The laughter that burst from Adela was loud and hollow, tinged with grief. "You think I don't want that? But can I?" A single tear slipped down her cheek.
"Zachary and I were in love. He brought me back to the country, promised me a home, a future. And what happened? Everyone said I wasn't good enough—that I was too low-class, that I didn't deserve him. They forced us apart. What was the point of being that Susan?"
No one knew exactly what had gone down five years ago. Quinley had never heard Zachary mention it, but the pain etched on Adela's face told its own story.
"Didn't you die five years ago?"
Adela's gaze burned into Quinley. "Oh yeah, I died alright. They even gave me a headstone. But unfortunately for them, I didn't stay dead. I survived."
"They never imagined I'd still be alive—that I'd stay right by Zachary's side, getting closer and closer to him. I know that someday, he'll fall in love with me again, just like before."
"We'll get married. I'll be his only legal wife. I'll give him lots of children. He'll spend the rest of his life with me and me alone."
She looked half-crazed, every expression both terrifying and pitiful. A woman who'd gone off the deep end over love, staring into the abyss with no way back.
"That's not love. That's a prison."
"What the hell do you know?" Adela's voice cracked like a whip. "You think he actually likes you? Ms. Promise, how naive can you be? Come on—let me show you what the truth really looks like."
She grabbed Quinley's wrist and dragged her toward the door.