A nostalgic feeling took over me as I woke up once again in that room. The light-colored walls, the curtains slightly parted letting in the soft morning light, and the familiar scent of Vanessa's soap brought an odd sense of déjà vu. A week earlier, I had woken up in that very same place, with the same person sleeping beside me. Back then, however, my mind had been confused, full of unanswered questions. Now it was different. There was no uncertainty. I knew exactly where I was, who I was with, and—most importantly—why I was there.
In my arms, sleeping with the serenity of an angel, was Vanessa. Her dark hair was spread across the pillow, and her calm breathing rose and fell against my chest. Anyone who saw that scene would assume we were a real couple, two lovers sharing an intimate, ordinary moment. And maybe, for a few seconds, I almost believed it myself.
With as little movement as possible, careful not to wake her, I stretched my arm toward the small nightstand beside the bed and grabbed my phone. The screen lit up immediately, showing eight in the morning on a Saturday. I opened my conversation with my uncle and accessed the contact information he had sent me the night before. I hesitated for a moment. It was early, but I didn't think I was being inconvenient. I didn't want to sound pushy or overly wordy, so I decided to send a short, direct message.
> "[Hello, my name is Luke. My uncle, William, gave me your contact. He said you might be able to help me with a matter related to Jonathan Albert.]"
I locked the screen and placed the phone back on the nightstand. It took less than two minutes for it to vibrate again. I opened the message.
> "[Hello, Luke. My name is Henry. Since it was William who gave you my contact, I believe I already know what you want to discuss. Can we meet today at 11:00 to talk about it in more detail?]"
I replied almost immediately, confirming. Right after that, he sent me the location of the meeting. A faint smile appeared on my lips when I recognized the address—it was my favorite bakery. I turned off my phone and, feeling my body relax again, decided to sleep a little longer.
I don't know how much time passed, but I woke up when I felt Vanessa shift, slowly slipping out of my arms. My eyes opened almost instinctively.
"Good morning," she said, with a lazy, genuine smile.
"Good morning," I replied, my voice still heavy with sleep.
We got up together. We were naked, and my eyes inevitably traced Vanessa's body once more. The morning light shaped her curves softly, almost artistically. Waking up to a sight like that was more than refreshing—it was dangerous, in the sense that it made me forget, if only for a moment, everything that was at stake.
We went to the bathroom together and stepped into the shower. The hot water helped wake me up completely as we washed our bodies, still marked by the night before. Despite the soap, there was still a faint scent of sex lingering in the air and on our skin—a physical reminder of what had happened.
Under the shower, I told Vanessa about my meeting with Henry. She immediately wanted to come with me, but I explained that it wouldn't be possible. I didn't know Henry personally, and he didn't know me either. Besides, he might feel uncomfortable if I brought someone not directly involved. She seemed to understand, even if reluctantly.
Another topic that came up was the fight with Maxwell. I said there was no need to train, but Vanessa insisted with a determination I knew well. According to her, I should train with Dimitri for the entire month. I eventually gave in. As my father used to say, half joking, half resigned, a woman is only satisfied when you agree with her. It may sound sad, but sometimes it feels true.
After the shower, Vanessa took me to have breakfast. The house was quiet. I didn't run into her father; according to her, he had left early to take care of some matters. Breakfast was simple but pleasant, accompanied by light conversation. When we finished, it was already past ten in the morning. There was less than an hour left before my meeting with Henry.
There probably wouldn't be time to go back home. I would have to go wearing the clothes from the night before. Without the jacket, I was in a dress shirt, pants, and shoes—acceptable for a casual meeting at a café. Vanessa walked me to the car. Despite the lingering tension due to her family's situation and the recent events, something caught my attention: she seemed lighter. Maybe the fact that she wasn't carrying the entire burden alone anymore had brought her some relief.
We reached the place where my car was parked. A simple black sedan—not luxurious, but well taken care of. I liked it.
"Sorry… and thank you for yesterday," Vanessa said, looking straight at me.
There was sincerity in her eyes.
"I'll message you after the meeting," I replied.
"Okay."
I unlocked the car and opened the door. Before getting in, I turned back and gave her a soft kiss on the lips. Vanessa didn't resist. She simply accepted it, as if it were natural, almost expected. As we pulled away, she gave me a farewell smile. I got into the car and headed toward the café.
I arrived about ten minutes early. To my surprise, Henry had already messaged me saying he was there.
I entered the café and immediately spotted him sitting at one of the corner tables. He looked exactly like his profile picture: round-framed glasses, slightly messy brown hair, fair skin, and younger than I had imagined. There was something subtly striking about him, an appearance reminiscent of eccentric scientists from movies—always immersed in theories and investigations. He clearly gave off that "mad scientist" vibe.
Since the café was located in a popular area of the city, it was busy. People chatted at nearby tables, waiters moved back and forth with full trays, and the sound of cups and cutlery filled the space. Our meeting wouldn't raise any suspicion. From afar, we looked like two friends meeting for coffee.
"Are you Henry?" I asked, both to confirm and to break the ice.
"Yes. And you must be Luke," he replied with a light, polite smile. "You can sit here."
He pointed to the chair across from him. I sat down, and soon after, a waitress approached to take our order. Henry asked for eggs and bacon and a can of soda. Apparently, healthy habits weren't high on his priority list. I ordered a simple cappuccino, since I had already eaten earlier.
As soon as the waitress left, we got straight to the main subject.
"Well, as you mentioned before, today's meeting is to talk about Jonathan Albert," Henry said, adjusting his glasses. "Since your uncle gave you my contact, I assume you want to discuss the illegal activities connected to him."
"Exactly," I replied. "But before we get into that, could you introduce yourself a bit better? Since my uncle recommended you, I'm curious."
As I spoke, I watched him carefully. If I was going to work with him—especially on something this sensitive—I needed to know who I was dealing with. From what he seemed to know about Jonathan's darker side, Henry was clearly not an ordinary person.
"Fair enough," he said, adjusting his glasses again, as if the gesture were automatic. "As you know, my name is Henry. I'm an investigator specialized in exposing corruption in the corporate underworld. I was involved in cases like the one concerning Senator Abraham. Currently, I'm trying to expose the scheme involving the Minister of Immigration, Thomas Albert."
I couldn't hide my surprise. The year before, the scandal involving Senator Abraham had gone public, revealing a massive operation involving human trafficking and illegal prostitution. The investigation had been so large that it even turned into a documentary detailing every stage of the operation. Knowing that one of the investigators responsible for that case was now sitting in front of me rekindled a genuine hope of saving Vanessa's father.
"Well, I don't have any special expertise or anything like that," I said honestly. "My involvement with the Albert family is personal."
I was interrupted by the waitress returning with our orders. I took a sip of the still-hot cappuccino and then continued explaining everything. I told Henry about my connection with Vanessa, the delicate situation of her family, and the real reason I was willing to get involved in something so risky. Trusting him so quickly might have seemed reckless, but I had no other option.
Henry listened attentively, without interrupting, absorbing every detail.
"I've been trying for months to prove that the Alberts are running a drug production scheme," he said, his frustration barely contained. "I never imagined they were about to expand a business I could barely prove existed."
He explained that he had some information, but nothing truly concrete.
"I'll send everything to you by email," he added. "And whatever you manage to get, share it with me."
"Alright," I replied.
As he spoke, an idea began to take shape in my mind. I would have to ask Vanessa's father for help. He had direct contact with Jonathan Albert and could become a crucial piece of my plan. Still, I didn't reveal that to Henry at the moment. Everything depended on everyone's cooperation.
"I'll try to get more information," I said carefully. "Since the father of the girl I mentioned has direct contact with Jonathan, maybe he can help."
Henry nodded.
"Since there's nothing else to discuss for now, let's keep in touch by message," he suggested. "That way, we avoid meeting too often."
I agreed. I finished my cappuccino and stood up. I noticed that fresh bread had just been placed on the counter of the bakery attached to the café. I filled a bag and went to the register to pay. As I left, my phone vibrated—it was Henry's email with the case information.
I went to my car and called Vanessa, briefly explaining the situation and telling her I needed to speak with her father. She said she would talk to him as soon as possible and let me know.
I arrived home around 12:30. I saw Bianca in the kitchen, taking pictures of her plate of food. Everything was strangely arranged, as if each element had been carefully positioned just to look good in the photo. She was probably preparing a story for her social media.
"Hi, Bianca," I said.
She looked at me with clear disinterest. Then her eyes shifted to the bag of bread in my hand, recognizing the bakery's logo.
"Didn't you bring me any cake?" she asked.
"Huh? No."
"Useless," she muttered, in a bad mood.
I remembered the night before. She was probably still irritated because of the failed date—or rather, the attempt at one that never even happened.
"If you want cake, you can go buy it yourself," I replied. "Or start treating me better."
Bianca stared at me, incredulous. She probably never expected that kind of answer from me. Normally, I ignored her petty behavior, but that day I felt like provoking her.
"Wow… did the crazy girl you went out with yesterday change you?" she mocked.
"Crazy or not, at least I had sex yesterday," I replied with a mocking smile. "Unlike you, who stayed home frustrated."
"Shut up!"
She shouted, clearly angry. I smiled at her reaction. Usually, she was the one provoking me. I left the kitchen, leaving her there alone, and went to my room.
A little later, I received a message from Vanessa saying her father had to take a business trip and wouldn't be back until after Tuesday. I opened Henry's email and analyzed the information he had sent, but there was nothing truly useful. Just initial, scattered data that led nowhere.
The only thing I could do at that moment was wait. Vanessa's father would be one of the key pieces of my plan.
…
The rest of Saturday and Sunday passed without anything noteworthy. And now, on Monday, I'm sitting next to Nathan in the classroom, waiting for the start of the partner draw for the assignment the professor had given.
Since there were forty students in the room, the professor decided to divide the draw into two boxes. One contained numbers from 1 to 20, and the other from 21 to 40. The logic was simple: whoever drew number 1 would pair up with whoever drew 40; 2 with 39; 3 with 38, and so on.
Students went up to the front, drew a number, and announced it out loud so they could find their respective partners. The system was straightforward and avoided any personal choice.
Between one student and another approaching the professor's desk to draw their papers, I noticed Olivia standing up from her seat. Unlike most, she seemed calm, unhurried. She walked to the box, pulled out a slip of paper, opened it quickly, and announced clearly:
"Number 10."
The professor confirmed with a nod, and Olivia simply returned to her seat as if it were of no importance. From that moment on, it was clear to everyone how the system would work in her case: whoever drew number 30 would automatically be paired with her. The draw continued normally after that, with students continuing to announce their numbers.
After several students had drawn, it was finally my turn. I reached into the box containing the numbers from 21 to 40, pulled out a folded slip of paper, and opened it calmly.
A faint, ironic smile appeared on my lips.
"Number 30," I announced to the class.