Chapter 152 I don't have time
~Hermes~
"What just happened just now?" I mutter, voice tight, heart hammering against my ribs.
No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!
I actually—really—forgot her. June. Her face, her voice, her eyes… every detail gone for a split second. My teeth sink into my palm as I bury my face in my hands, mind spinning.
From pretending to forget her… to actually forgetting her. This is bad. This is so bad.
I pace the room, chest heaving, imagining the hurt flashing across her face, the sting she would feel. If only I knew it had been a charade… but for a second, it wasn’t.
I need to move fast. I need to keep Natalya in my loop, and I need to make sure June remains untouched, at least for now.
"Hermes, honey," Natalya’s voice floats behind me, dripping with sweetness. She wraps herself around my back, too close. I clamp my fists into my pockets, trying not to react.
"I’m so sorry about that girl," she coos. "I already fired her."
My stomach twists. She’s already gone—June is free from Natalya’s grip, free from me. And Natalya suspects nothing. I… I don’t know if I should feel relief or rage.
Calm down, Hermes. This is for the best.
I force a smile and turn to her, placing my hands over hers. "Good riddance, Nat. She was acting… weird."
I swallow hard. I’m sorry, June.
Natalya beams, oblivious to the storm inside me. "I know, right?" She leans against my chest, but I step back, so she doesn't hear my heart racing.
"Oh! I almost forgot," she says, masking something behind her grin. "I got you a gift."
A silver carved high-end bracelet. She holds it out, eyes sparkling with delight as I imagined it would, "It’s so beautiful."
I force the smile again as I slip it onto her wrist. "You’ll be wearing it tonight."
"Of course!" she coos, turning her gaze to me. "Oh, right—I'll have the other stylist, the male one, come fix you up too."
I shake my head. No time. I need an exit, and I need one fast.
"I have some business to attend with the boys. I’ve already picked the suit I want," I say, sliding on my coat.
Her expression falters—suspicion prickling in her eyes—but I mask it with a gentle shrug. "Don’t worry, hon. I’ll arrive just in time for the gala."
She gives a faint smile, but I know better. She thinks I’m chasing June.
She has no idea what’s really coming.
I feel Natalya’s eyes lingering on me as I step out.
I move quickly to the garage, the sound of my gloves hitting the leather of my jacket the only thing filling the silence. My bike waits, sleek and ready. I mount it, dialing a number as I do.
A minute later, one of the male staff appears, cautious but attentive. I hand him the helmet and a set of instructions.
"Go to the location and get red wine," I say, my tone casual but commanding.
He hesitates, eyes on the bike. "But, Boss… can I really use your bike? It—"
"Of course you can," I cut him off with a sharp smile. "Just promise me you’ll take your time on the road."
A flash of joy crosses his face as he nods. He slips into the leather jacket and gloves I handed him, pulls the helmet over his head, and roars off outside.
I linger for a beat, then turn to my laptop. I pull up the feed from the camera I installed in front of the house. My sharp eyes track the black car tailing the staff I just sent out. Predictable. Natalya wouldn't let me leave without checking.
A small, victorious smile creeps across my face. Perfect. Everything is unfolding exactly as planned.
I slip into the staff’s jacket, wearing his cap and mask and leave the house.
As I step outside, the taxi I’d called earlier waits patiently. I slip inside, the staff jacket still on me, then peel it off, tossing it aside with the mask. Another jacket, stashed in the back seat, goes on, along with a fresh mask. I lean back and instruct the driver, "Drive fast. I’ll pay triple."
No way I’m stepping out in my official car—not with Natalya’s eyes everywhere.
Once we’re moving, I call Ted. "I have something for you to do during the gala," I tell him, voice low. "I’ll forward the instructions soon."
Call ended, I lean back, breathing slowly, letting the hum of the engine fill the space. My mind drifts to June—the torn expression on her face, the raw vulnerability I can’t stop remembering. I shut my eyes. At least I can still see her. Better than forgetting everything.
A question gnaws at me—should I go through with the surgery Ted advised? One cut, one procedure, and I’ll forget her completely. What good is that?
....
A tap on my shoulder jolts me awake.
"Sir, we’ve arrived."
I jerk upright, heart hammering. The streetlights glint off the delivery store’s window ahead. Pulling out a wad of cash, I hand it to the driver. He nods, takes it, and I step out, muscles coiled, senses alert.
Inside, a man waits, motioning me to follow. I meet his gaze with a single nod.
I’m on a delivery bike now, dressed head-to-toe like one of the guys, parked in front of Dominic Voss’s house. The same structure as my father’s—Dominic always had a knack for mirroring Lucien’s life. He had always done what my father did, mirrored him at every step. I can’t help but smirk grimly understanding one of the reasons he must have betrayed him.
I step down, hands gripping the delivery box filled with my father’s favorite meals. My insider confirmed the order and, more importantly, that Dominic isn’t home.
So, I won’t go in as a son, this time, because this house has too many cameras and eyes everywhere, and so many ways for suspicion to spring. And I need this to be clean, and my visit undetected until I've gotten full evidence against them.
I adjust the mask over my face, smoothing the edges, then stride confidently toward the door. The security guard outside glances at me in my delivery uniform, mask.
It's the expected standard package. Nothing to question, and so I pass without a second look.
Inside, the staff leads me quietly to where my father is resting.
During that dinner, Dominic had suggested Lucien come stay at his house while Natayla and I had "alone time" in our house. I hadn’t thought twice at the time, but now I realize—this was intentional and calculated to get Natalya into my father’s study. The man is cunning, even more than I thought.
I set the plates down carefully. "Here is your food, sir," I murmur, keeping my tone neutral, professional, and calm.
"Hermes?" My father murmurs, trying to peer past the mask. Surprise, curiosity, a flicker of recognition in his eyes.
I grab his hand quickly, guiding him gently. "Sir, do you want to use the restroom? I can help you." My tone leaves no room for argument.
"Huh?" He blinks, confused, but follows me anyway. I don’t let him speak, or hesitate.
Once inside the restroom, I peel off the mask. His eyes go wide instantly, disbelief flooding his face.
"What’re you doing here? Dressed like this, Hermes? And why are you delivering my food?" His voice shakes with confusion, curiosity, and something else—amusement perhaps, though tempered with worry.
I act fast. One hand clamps over his mouth, firm but careful, the other securing his wrist.
I press my index finger to my lips, signaling my father to stay quiet. His eyes flick between my maskless face and the door behind me, then he nods slowly. Only then do I remove my hand from his mouth.
"Father," I say, voice low and tight, "I need you to tell me everything that happened at the company, before your stroke."
I reach into the inner pocket of my delivery jacket and pull out the recorder, and I turn it on and hold it between us.
Lucien’s brows pinch together. His eyes search my face. "Are you okay? Son?"
"Just tell me, Father. I don't have time." My voice cracks around the edges, but my jaw stays locked.
Lucien places a trembling hand on my shoulder. His concern is real, raw, and gentle for the moment. "You don’t need to worry about that for now, son. After the wedding, we will dis—"
"I don’t have time," I snap, louder. My throat burns as I force the words out. "I left my life to come fix your company, and now I’m sacrificing my life for it."
He flinches, confusion turning to fear.
"I’m dying, Father." My voice drops to a quiet broken whisper "So I don’t have the time to wait after that stupid wedding."
A breath shakes out of me. My hands tremble and I curl them into fists so he doesn’t see.
"The girl I love…" The words choke me. I swallow, hard. "The girl… I… love."
My father’s eyes widen, stunned.
"I need time to draw her face," I continue, every word dragging out of a wound I don’t know how to close. "To register her laugh in my recorder. To… to remember her voice."
My breathing turns jagged.
"So I don’t have fucking time," I whisper. "Just tell me what I need to know."
Lucien’s face falls. His eyes soften in sorrow I’ve never seen before. "Hermes—"
My phone vibrates sharply in my pocket.
I pull it out and see the message from my Intel guy. Finally.
I snatch it out and read it instantly.
| Solivane Pharmaceutical’s Director works under Voss Holding Global now, and Astrada Pharmaceutical has been secretly acquired by Solivane Pharm, even though it’s inactive. |
| The company connecting both pharmaceuticals is Voss Holding Global, but this is not public. |
My heart slams in my chest. My eyes widen, sparks firing in the back of my mind. Everything lines up.
I shove the screen toward my father. "Is this enough for you to tell me everything that happened?"
He stares at the messages. His pupils contract. His shoulders stiffen. Then he looks at me—really looks at me.
Fear, then recognition, then resignation.
Slowly, painfully, he nods, and I know— I’ve finally cornered the truth.