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A Callous Player

Chapter 5 How could someone be so fake

Word Count: 1753    |    Released on: 28/12/2022

hould I

f how frustrated I was then, as I pac

't have come out of the locker room without my makeup last night. How could I be so

tter. What if someone had been waiting for me in the dark on the road before this apartment complex? That strange busmate's girlfriend terrified me to the core more than my

g enough bravery in me. Wasn't my gr

ing a call to

nning out of the bar from the back door, I still didn't consider letting my friend or lawyer know about my day after coming h

o relieve my stress. I would more likely do what they would suggest to me. Because no matter how trained I was, I couldn't beat e

My tone held an apology, but I wasn't ash

, "Oh, no, Bonita. I am on duty. Tell me.

o my apartment, and I wasn't in disg

n. Terrified, I sunk into my bed, gripping my phone hard. Then I heard a light commotio

heir Jeep. "Our team is already checking all the footage from that bar to your home. We w

ure I would be safe in that city for a couple of days, which had me take out my file from my bag to check the contract I had to sign with the club. Taking a long shaky bre

n before. . .who believes y

d when a thought struck my min

also agreed with her. "Go to work in the morning, Bonita. You need to be there. I am sure you will see them there today. And don't

e last time not to pick up anyone's call wi

ago. I know you don't want your friend to know this, but I won't hide it from Mrs. Winc

friend-girlfriend is the couple made in hell.

nt on making her point clear. "You have to be there and face them. And if you feel threa

mom that it made me emotional. But it put my mind at ease, and I fell asleep thinkin

ouldn

ers and get information from him about my dad. If they failed, I would move to Seattle and find a good job or sign that two-year contract I was previously offered to become the

last night either. How is that possible anyway? A troop of men chased me in the streets until they lost sight of me. I knew that

elevator. I clutched the strap of my backpack, where I stuffed everything I had in my locker. For precaution, of course. But again, there wasn't anything original but fake notes from my first year of Culinary School.

. My heart was beating faster to recognize their faces. They were the same people

strap of my backpack felt dumped because of my sweaty palms. I couldn't even give

o it. There is nothing to b

y heart dropped in fear, hearing the clickin

ze at the people in that office and breathed in relief inwardly, seeing my colleagues t

ome king and queen. But I can't blame them, though. When they dressed like one and t

ne be so fake i

. . ar

stayed a bit longer than they should. I shifted my gaze at him and wasn't surprised h

I expected I would. Holding his gaze, I asked, "I

m or something. And if he had me fired now by using his influence and power just beca

up the issue like he usually had done before for me. Elbowing me to my waist, he said to the superstar apologetically, "Bash and Ms

y pres

back to her man. "Does it mean he can't come with us to Los Angeles? Seb, we don't

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