The Dark Secret of the CEO by Sofia de Orellana

Chapter 12

I can’t help but cover my mouth to not shout out. I can’t believe it. It’s really him. My heart just goes insane, beating like a drum and threatening to jump out of my chest. I have to be wrong, why the hell would Rick be in New York?

“Hera?”

I don’t react. I’m just completely stunned, in shock. A wave of memories suddenly takes over my mind, driving me insane with melancholy and bitter, stinging feelings I had buried deep before they drowned me. Rick’s gotten older by a few years, but there’s no way I’d forget the face of the only man I ever loved. On the screen, he looks like any other cop standing perfectly calm in his NYPD uniform. Since when the fuck did he even become a New York City Cop?

“I was about to leave,” Abe answers the question I already forgot.

Rick nods, and lets him walk away, while Charles still seems suspicious. My God, those two on the same screen is like a nightmare come true. What the hell is Rick doing at my funeral? Abe walks away, but then, he suddenly darts to the side, to stay behind and witness the scene. The camera goes dark, and we can’t see the two men’s actions nor faces, but we can hear them just fine.

“…Long time not see.”

“Agent Rivera,” Charles comments. “That’s funny, I don’t remember you being part of the NYPD?”

“I moved departments recently.”

“New York is quite far from your hometown.”

“I had personal interests here.”

The shots are being fired and my heart’s being cribbled with bullets. Someone amongst the female vampires chuckles, visibly excited by the tension, but I’m not quite the same. It’s horrible for me to listen to this, and I’m just glad I can’t see it. I want to scream, but instead, I just muffle it behind my palm.

“…My condolences,” Charles mutters. “I know you had some feelings for her too.”

“I did.”

The answer’s angry tone clearly means he held more than “some feelings” for me, but Charles pretends not to hear it. He clears his throat.

“I understand you’d want a minute,” he calmly says. “After all, you didn’t get to… see her again.”

He tries to walk away, the brunette’s heels right behind him, but before we hear more than three steps, Rick’s voice echoes in the church.

“It’s strange, isn’t it?”

Charles stops.

“…Excuse me?”

“How she was alone, the night of her death?”

“I’m very sorry, Agent Rivera. I was attending a Charity Party on the other side of Manhattan. I should have had someone stay with her, but June barely accepted anyone but me by her side in the… last weeks.”

That’s not true. I just didn’t have anyone else to turn to.

“So you left her on her own, in a hotel room?”

“She chose to stay there herself, she felt safe in the hotel. You can ask her manager, she’d picked it hers-”

“There were lots of blades in that room.”

“…Excuse me?”

“There were razors, kitchen knives and many other dangerous things.”

lived there, agent Rivera. June didn’t get out, she needed the things that are used in

in an extremely depressive state, and you had

on the screen, despite it being completely

not sure what you’re hinting at, Agent Rivera. I recognize I may have underestimated June’s state, I didn’t think she’d actually go ahead and… commit such an atrocious thing. However, your colleagues from forensics confirmed it was a suicide, as you probably know. I’m not really sure what you’re trying to do here, but I’d suggest you deal with your grief in a better way than accusing me of neglect. I was her fiancé, you were her ex-boyfriend. For you to come into the picture

Cecily chuckles. I’m not the slightest bit happy about this. We hear steps of people walking out, Charles and that dark-haired woman. From what we hear, Rick

says

the stuck-up dude?” Cecily frowns. “Is there something wrong with

stand

“Did you really have to put me through this? What was the point?! Show me how little people actually cared about my death? Or to show how stupid I’d been to commit suicide? I get it! I get it, alright? I’m a fucking failure

Darling,” says

me, it’s too fucking late now! I can’t just go back, June Starr is dead!

“Hera, stop it.”

and even madder that I can’t just keep screaming my agonizing feelings out. His ice-blue eyes are just so calm, like a prison forcing me to stay under his control instead

didn’t choose to

other vampires are just about as confused as I am. My emotions at their wits’ ends, I nervously laugh, hysteria knocking right

just say?” I hear

death was not a

Richard’s mad, or he didn’t

console me, but I remember very precisely what I did. I remember every bit of it, it wasn’t a dream. I

remember

and there’s a whole room of vampires waiting for me to answer him as if his question made any sense. I close my mouth for a second,

again. Like I’d never get out of it. I wanted to, but I always just wanted to cry, to disappear. It was like that every day, for weeks. Nothing could make me smile, I just felt completely… void. like there was a heavy, heavy weight on my heart that just sucked all the happiness and joy away. Like I wasn’t in tune with the rest of the world,

to pretend like I don’t know I’ve got tears running down my cheeks. The mere memory of that… horrible turmoil, the maze of sadness, loneliness and pain trapping me all over again. It’s not just my actual death; I remember days and days going by without me seeing anything that could end my torture. The depression kept me stuck in bed, or on the floor, with just no idea what to do with my pathetic self,

if I know anything about it,” mutters Benedict, crossing his arms. “And I

all do, Bene,” sighs

about when you woke up here,

question throws me right back into the

I suppose.

make any

Anna, who’s staring at me as if I’m some confusing problem. She tilts her head, and turns to

“There’s no way, right?”

you talking

obvious. “You don’t just get rid of it within two days, certainly not because you’re

to Richard, but he’s also staring at me, although undecipherable

“Because my troubles are gone,

dying, Baby,” says Rebecca. “It just doesn’t make sense. Clinical Depression isn’t just a state of mind, it’s an actual, diagnosticable illness,

how they… got me out of the upcoming

you have

meds. …I’m sorry but I still don’t get it. Where are we going with

means to get someone who could have helped you, a therapist or a psychiatrist, and

one but him and perhaps a couple of staff for weeks, so now, can

“Everything.”

quickly reading the lines

asks, glancing over her shoulder and for once, about as confused

proof that our Baby didn’t commit suicide

more and more confusing by the minute. While most of us are still

an interesting mix of Beta-blockers, Corticosteroids, isotretinoin, carbidopa,

word. “Like drugs? What is

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