Everett was sick? In the photo, Everett lay on a hospital cot, eyes closed, and his face a tad pale.

It was clear as day that Kevin had snapped and sent it on the sly.

Predictably, a few more messages followed.

[Ms. Sanchez, I snagged this shot of Mr. Lopez secretly. He doesn't know, so let's keep it on the down-low, okay?] [He'd be ticked off.] [Mr. Lopez has been under the weather for days now, really out of sorts. Could you play dumb but drop him a line to check in on him?] Dorothy's fingers hesitated over her keyboard before typing back: [If I pretend I don't know he's sick, then suddenly start fussing over him, he'll smell a rat.] Everett was too sharp; such simple tricks wouldn't fool him.

[No worries. Give Mr. Lopez a ring, and you'll hear in his voice that he's not well!] [Call him in about two hours; he should be awake by then. Mr. Lopez just fell asleep not long ago after pulling yet another all- nighter. Nobody can handle that kind of grind!] Dorothy frowned, picturing Everett in work mode, driven as if his life depended on it.

[Alright, got it. Thanks, Kevin, for having his back.] [Don’t mention it. Just doing my bit.] After signing off with Kevin, Dorothy found herself inexplicably scrolling back to the top of the chat, clicking on Everett's photo, and studying it intently.

Her fingertip gently traced his cheek on the screen, over his furrowed brow, and lingered on his closed eyelids.

his features sharp, and his usually plump lips now pale, adding a sickly

was too outstanding. So outstanding that Dorothy often felt their

such a blazing sun have fallen into her

smoothly. The staff there were stalling with all

strict conditions—no photocopies, no taking documents away, just a quick

the two-hour mark approached, Dorothy had to let it

bag, Dorothy hurried out of the Bureau and

the call. Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ FindNʘᴠᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of

a WhatsApp notification popped

It was from Everett.

that this was the first time she had

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