Thalassa shook off her funk and asked curiously, “How?”

“We gotta visit Dr. Funke.”

“But Dr. Funke won’t even give us the time of day,” Thalassa lamented.

“Didn’t Dr. Funke promise Alaric a dinner to sign some contract or something? We can just go with Alaric,” Hertha suggested. “But…”

“No buts about it, leave this to me,” Hertha proclaimed, her indignation fueling her resolve.

The next morning, Hertha made her way to the Falconer Group, striding with determined steps toward the elevator.

No sooner had she reached the reception desk than she was stopped, “Miss, may I ask who you’re here to see?” Every corporate receptionist is like a human radar for new faces.

Spotting an unfamiliar one, they intercept, preventing any potentially ill–intentioned visitor from disturbing the upper echelons of the company.

Hertha had to pause, but she put on a cheery smile and told the receptionist, “I’m an old friend of your VP. Just need to chat with him about something.”

“Do you have an appointment?” the receptionist asked, her expression stern, leaving no room for flexibility.

appointment to see an old friend?” Hertha was taken

an appointment to meet with our VP. If you don’t have one, I can’t let

her rising temper.

get so high–and–mighty that he required appointments?

needed his help, so she held

the receptionist, “Sorry, let me just give

had for three years,

hadn’t dialed it once for three years. She

and Georgia sharing a bed, leaving the hotel that morning in a huff, she hadn’t

her pregnancy came, and fearing the gossip, she cut

in her

dialing it again

not knowing if the call would even

tone beeped through.

went

number in

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