"Is Reporter Olivia planning to stand here all day—or does she know how to leave when dismissed?"
"Sorry, Boss. I'll go right away," Olivia said quickly. She turned on her heel and hurried out of the office.
The moment the door shut behind her, Lorenzo's expression shifted. His eyes hardened, flashing with hatred—and something darker. A murderous chill clung to his gaze as he leaned back in his chair, the mask of indifference slipping away.
He reached for his phone and dialed a number.
"Santo," he said coldly once the line connected. "I have a task for you. Follow someone for me—closely. I don't care whether you do it yourself or send one of your girls, but make sure she never realizes she's being watched."
There was a pause, his tone growing sharper. "And another thing. Send one of your women undercover into a hospital. She'll pose as a nurse and get close to a doctor there… William Thompson. I'll send the pictures and address. Do it right, and you'll be paid handsomely."
After a few more sharp instructions, he ended the call.
A faint smile curved his lips—cold, predatory, and laced with menace.
The moment Olivia stepped out of Lorenzo's office, she smoothed her expression into a calm, professional smile. Just outside, at a sleek desk positioned near the door, Enzo sat focused on his laptop, his fingers moving across the keys with practiced precision.
She cleared her throat softly before speaking. "The boss asked me to collect some files from you," she said evenly, keeping her tone polite. A flicker of embarrassment passed through her—she didn't even know his given name, so she could only address him as assistant.
Enzo lifted his gaze from the laptop. His dark brown eyes were cold, unreadable, as if he were looking straight through her. Without a word, he reached for two folders on his desk and handed it over.
Olivia stiffened under his stare. For a heartbeat, she wondered if he could see through her mask of composure. But she quickly forced herself to relax, taking the file with steady hands.
"Thank you," she replied, her voice low, almost frosted to match his indifference, before turning away.
Arriving at her office, she lowered herself into the chair and set the folders on her desk. Just as she reached to open one, a sudden chill swept through her—as if unseen eyes were fixed on her. Slowly, she lifted her head.
James was staring at her from his desk, his wide black eyes filled with curiosity.
"James, what is it?" Olivia asked, though she already had a good guess about what was coming.
James rolled his chair closer, curiosity gleaming in his eyes. Leaning in, he lowered his voice to a hushed whisper. "Come on, girl. You were in the boss's office alone. What did you think of him? What did he say?"
His tone carried more gossip than concern, and Olivia gently shoved his head away from her face. But when she glanced up, she froze—her colleagues were staring at her. They sat poised in their seats, ears pricked as if waiting for the juiciest headline of the day.
Olivia couldn't help but laugh at the sight. "Relax, everyone. The boss just gave me a new story to cover, that's all."
A wave of disappointment swept across the room. Shoulders slumped, eyes rolled, and one by one, some of her co-workers returned to their desks, muttering under their breath.
Shaking her head, Olivia smirked at their theatrics. Honestly… what were they expecting to happen in there? She thought.She turned back to the file on her desk, but before she could flip it open, James leaned closer again.
His voice dropped to an eager whisper. "Nothing really happened at all? James asked again.
"No, James. Nothing happened, alright? What exactly were you expecting? Stop daydreaming about the boss and focus on the task he gave us,"She slid one of the files over to James while opening another for herself.
James muttered something under his breath, but finally rolled his chair back to his desk. Olivia kept her focus, scanning the documents while cross-referencing them with her notes on the Silent Viper Cartel and the Obsidian Brotherhood Mafia.
Time slipped by, and when lunch break arrived, the office stirred to life. Chairs scraped back, and her colleagues rose together. James leaned toward her with his usual grin.
"Olivia, are we going to the same restaurant today, or should we try that new place down the street?"
She didn't even look up. "Go with Alexandra and Madison. I'm busy today—we'll have lunch another time."
Before James could reply, Olivia was already on her feet. She grabbed her bag and phone, her steps brisk as she left the office. Moments later, she was in the parking lot, sliding into her car.
The drive to the café was short, but Olivia's thoughts spun restlessly. What kind of information would Reporter Joe give her? Part of her wanted her instincts to be right—just so she could prove to everyone that she wasn't paranoid. Yet another part of her desperately wished she was wrong.
Because if Lorenzo truly was Vincent… what then? Even if she went to the police, would they believe her? Or would they dismiss her as delusional? After all, Lorenzo and Vincent looked like two completely different men.
But whatever news she received, she would accept it. After all, it was better to know than to remain clueless. Ever since Vincent's call at three in the morning, she couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching her with every step she took.
She had chosen the café carefully—not only because it was popular enough to make her feel safer as it was usually filled with people , but also because if anyone were following her, she would notice. The place was well-known for its creamy lattes and perfectly cooked steaks.
Parking her car, Olivia stepped inside the diner, where the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the savory scent of warm meals. The place was lively yet cozy, filled with chatter and the clinking of cups. She spotted an empty seat by the window and sat down, setting her bag carefully at her side.
A waitress soon approached, her smile bright and practiced. "Good afternoon, miss. What would you like to order?" she asked, offering a menu with polite precision.