The Dark Secret of the CEO by Sofia de Orellana

Chapter 13

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.”

June didn’t get out, she needed the things that are used in an actual

depressive state, and you had no issue leaving her alone with all sorts of dangerous objects

heavy silence follows. We’re all eyes riveted on the screen, despite it being completely dark. Wherever Abe hid, there isn’t a hint of light, just a crazy good

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

steps of people walking out, Charles and that dark-haired woman. From what we hear, Rick stays behind, and the video suddenly stops. I let out the air I’ve been holding in

says Rebecca, raising her

traded Agent Cutie for the stuck-up dude?” Cecily

and stand up, turning around to face

me how little people actually cared about my death? Or to show how stupid I’d been to commit suicide? I get it!

that, Darling,”

do this? Even if some people cared about me, it’s too fucking late now! I can’t just go back, June Starr is dead!

“Hera, stop it.”

at Richard, furious, crying and even madder that I can’t just keep screaming my agonizing feelings out. His ice-blue eyes are just so calm, like a

didn’t choose to kill

around, but the other vampires are just about as confused as I am. My emotions at

just say?” I hear myself

death was

my head. Perhaps Richard’s mad, or he didn’t understand

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

you remember your

he playing at with this strange question? I hesitate, but glance around, and there’s a whole room of vampires waiting for me to answer him as if his question made any sense. I close

smile ever 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

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, almost hoping that feeling would

it,” mutters Benedict,

do, Bene,” sighs

about when you woke up

into the rollercoaster. I

suppose. It was all

make

me as if I’m some

“There’s no way, right?”

are you talking about?” I

Cecily rolls her eyes, as if it was obvious. “You don’t just get rid of it within two days, certainly not because you’re transformed. Most of us took days,

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

better,” I mutter. “Because my troubles are gone, I

Baby,” says Rebecca. “It just doesn’t make sense. Clinical Depression isn’t just a state

and that’s how they… got me out of

have a regular

I still don’t get it. Where are

get someone who could have

and perhaps a couple of staff for weeks, so now, can you

“Everything.”

Richard suddenly takes out a piece of paper, and hands it to Rebecca. She raises both eyebrows, but stares at it, quickly reading the lines with her eyebrows slowly tilting from upwards to downwards. I barely saw anything, but it looked like

this?” Bart asks, glancing over her shoulder and for

very dirty proof that our Baby didn’t commit suicide

just gets more and more confusing by the minute. While most of us

of Beta-blockers, Corticosteroids, isotretinoin, carbidopa, ropinirole…

mutter, recognizing only that word.

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