Chapter [X]
The stinging stare between Paul and Moses was electric. Neither man was willing to yield.
"I think you're forgetting—I'm a witness. Well, not entirely—but my statement still matters," Moses said, his tone deliberate, designed to provoke.
Paul narrowed his eyes. Suspicious, curious. But he shook his head.
"No need. We only need the female, not you. Trusting her? Easy. Trusting you? That would be chasing a wild goose." Paul's words dripped with memory—of the time Moses had made a fool of him and his men.
Moses' gaze sharpened. "I'm available. My people aren't. Your choice—cooperate or not."
Paul shrugged, smug. He wasn't giving Moses an inch.
"No need."
"We have other ways," Paul said, his voice calm but firm.
Moses frowned. "Then why waste my time?" His pupils flickered, a trace of disbelief—and fear—shining through.
Paul murmured under his breath, distracted by movement behind him. A woman lay on a stretcher, rolled by a team of nurses and a doctor.
"Anita!" Moses called, his voice cracking slightly, drawing Paul's gaze.
Two figures followed the stretcher—a young man and a small child, running after it, shouting.
"Mummy! Mummy!"
"Barnabas!" Moses' voice rose as he ran to them. The boy's small frame was trembling; his eyes were wide, wet with tears.
"Barnabas!" Moses bent down, lifting him into his arms.
"Dad! Mummy! Bleeding! Blood!" The boy tried to explain, but sobs choked his words. He only pointed at the stretcher, desperate to follow.
Moses didn't need translation. He hurried after the stretcher, holding Barnabas tight, leaving Paul frozen behind.
Though he knew Moses had a family, Paul had never seen them. Now, watching Moses panic, he assumed the woman must be the lawyer's wife—and curiosity pricked at him. But he restrained himself.
"It's their family business," he muttered. His eyes scanned the hall, catching a suspicious figure—a man dressed casually but distinct, black hat and mask.
"Suspicious," Paul murmured. The figure descended the stairs and disappeared. Paul followed in hurried steps.
The Waiting Room
Thirty minutes later, Moses paced the narrow hall, anxiety threading through each step. His mind raced, desperate to understand what had caused his wife's condition.
"What happened?" he demanded, addressing a tall man nearby.
"It was an accident," the man said. "My second-in-command and I were performing our duties when she refused to cooperate while we checked her son."
Barnabas poked his head forward, trying to speak, but Moses pulled him close.
"That doesn't explain her condition," Moses said, voice cold, restrained, yet sharp.
"My second accidentally pushed her while trying to grab the boy. She fell. That's how she got hurt," the man explained, pale, hoping Moses would understand.
Moses' fists clenched, but he held himself back. His eyes drifted to the glass door, wishing—praying—that everything would be okay.
Finally, the door opened. A female doctor walked out, flanked by a nurse.
"Doctor, how is my wife?" Moses asked, stepping forward, voice tight with worry.
"Luckily, both mother and child are fine," she replied. Relief surged, but the mention of a child made him pause.
"Child?" he asked, dumbfounded.
"Yes. She'll be moved to a room for further treatment," the doctor added.
"Can I see her?" Moses asked, soft, almost pleading.
The doctor shook her head. "She needs rest. Come back tomorrow."
Moses' gaze shifted to the guard responsible for the accident. Cold. Bottomless.
"Then I'll be on my way," the doctor said, disappearing into the crowd.
"Dad, will Mummy be alright?" Barnabas asked, his small voice clear, almost too mature for his age.
"She's fine," Moses assured him, rubbing his back as the boy yawned sleepily.
"Sleepy," Barnabas murmured, rubbing his eyes.
"Then sleep," Moses replied, eyes still wary of the guard.
"Let's talk about the incident," he added, voice low, deep, almost chilling.
🌹 Lola Restaurant 🌹
Henry leaned back, lazily swirling his wine glass, inhaling the cool evening air. His mind wandered, distant.
"Henry!" A soft, familiar voice broke through his thoughts.
He looked up. Melody. Her smile brightened the dim space. His own lips curved into a youthful grin.
"What a coincidence—you're here," she whispered, voice warm, melodic.
"Hmm," he replied, detached, though a smile lingered at the corner of his mouth.
She slid into the seat next to him.
"It's been long. I'm sure our meeting isn't just a coincidence," she said, a knowing glint in her eye.
"You know me too well," he replied, faint smile playing across his lips.
"Tell me, what do you want?" he asked, voice lazy, calm, yet probing.
"Nothing much. I heard a lawyer was attacked last night," she said casually, hiding deeper meaning in the words.
Henry chuckled softly. "Interesting."
"Don't go too far. He's important to me," she added.
"A lover of yours? But I heard he's married. How can you stoop to being a mistress?" Henry asked, bitter.
"No! Not a lover. If I liked someone, I wouldn't force him. He's simply…important to me," she said, eyes serious.
Henry smiled faintly.
"I would back out if that's what you wanted. But I can't. Not my choice," he said, sighing.
"Then let's make a simple deal," she said, expression calculating.
"What deal? I'm listening," he replied.
"You let him be, and I'll pay for any trouble you're in," she said, confidence radiating from her words.
"How do you know?" he asked, suspicious.
"I have my ways. Besides, it's a win-win for both of us," she said.
"I'll think about it," Henry muttered, troubled.
"I would, but I don't like taking risks," he finally admitted.
"Henry, you love risks. Why the sudden caution?" she teased.
"I'm not scared. Just careful…around you. We know each other too well," he said, forcing a small smile.
"Of course. But you don't always have to be careful. I've changed. You've changed," she said softly.
"Enough reason," he replied, firm.
"I heard that lawyer helped you once. Why the urge to kill him now?" she asked, curiosity edged in her tone.
"Back then, it was business. Now, business is over. No need to be nice," he said, eyes locked on his glass.
"I see," she murmured.
"It's been years since we talked like this," she added quietly.
"Don't worry about the case. Someone will take the fall," she assured him.
"I'm not interested," he said, serious.
"Not my concern. Consider it a meeting gift," she said, standing.
"I don't need your help," he said firmly.
"Or would you rather spend the rest of your life in jail?" she asked, leaving him speechless.
"By the way, Dad and Mom Ann are coming. I hope you attend this time," she said, then walked off.
Henry's phone rang. He sighed and answered.
"You idiot! If you don't clean that mess, I'll clean you instead!" a voice yelled.
Henry hung up, rubbing his temples. "Why am I always surrounded by fools?" he muttered, downing the rest of his wine.
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