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.

an old friend?” Hertha was

hours, you need an appointment to meet with our VP. If you don’t have one, I can’t let you through,” the receptionist insisted.

her rising

get so high–and–mighty that

his help, so she

let me just give him a quick call.”

had

once for three years. She wondered

bed, leaving the hotel that morning in a huff, she hadn’t spoken to

the gossip, she cut off all contact with

had been cocooned in

it again

with uncertainty, not knowing if the call

tone beeped through.

went through!

his number in three

The Novel will be updated daily. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

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