At that mont, hearing what Cora just said about Oliver, Malisa’s face tightened, and her voice sharpened a little more than before.
"No," Malisa said firmly, shaking her head. "I still don’t think choosing Oliver is the right idea. Let’s just find soone else a new face. Soone you don’t know too well. Soone we can control. Give it one, two, maybe three days you two get to know each other, build a story, and then you can use that person instead. That way, there’s no mix-ups or personal feelings. It’s going to be better. Cleaner."
However Cora just sat there, staring at her.
The room grew tense, and Malisa’s sudden insistence was no longer just about logic. It felt personal. It felt... too personal. And Cora wasn’t going to let it slide.
She leaned forward slowly, her voice low and direct. "Malisa," she said carefully, her eyes narrowing just a little. "I’m going to ask you this one last ti..."
Malisa looked up, blinking fast.
Cora tilted her head. "Is sothing wrong?"
Malisa stayed quiet.
"Because this is how it looks to ," Cora continued, keeping her tone even. "You’re not just against the idea. You’re against Oliver. Why? Is there sothing I don’t know? Or" she paused, watching Malisa’s reaction closely "do you have feelings for Oliver?"
Malisa flinched slightly, almost like she hadn’t expected the question to be that direct.
"Because if you do," Cora went on, "you need to just say it. Don’t beat around the bush with this. I’m not the kind of girl that likes sneaky gas or hidden motives. If there’s sothing going on between you and Oliver, then co clean now. Right now."
Her voice was calm, but her stare was firm.
"I don’t like this this way you’re acting. I don’t like the tension. I don’t like the silence. If you’re being like this because of him, then just say it already, Malisa."
At that mont, hearing what Cora just said, Malisa imdiately shake her head with a little sigh. "No, no, that’s not it at all," she said quickly, waving her hand dismissively. "You’ve got it all wrong. That’s wide off the mark, Cora. I don’t have any feelings for Oliver none of that. I promise you."
She leaned back slightly, her expression softening as she added, "I’m just... concerned. That’s all. I’m just thinking maybe Oliver won’t be able to pull it off the way you need him to. This isn’t just so silly dinner. This is your dad we’re talking about. You know how serious this is. That’s where my mind is."
Cora, now calr, looked at her for a few seconds before nodding slowly. "I understand," she said gently. "But Malisa... you don’t need to worry so much. Trust , everything is going to be fine."
She smiled slightly and placed her hand over lissa’s. "I believe in Oliver. I’ve known him a long ti, and I’m telling you—he can do this. He’s smart, sharp, and he knows in and out. I need soone like that. Not a stranger. Not a random guy. Him."
Malisa let out a breath, clearly still uncertain, but then nodded. "Okay," she said quietly. "Okay then. Since this is what you’ve chosen, I have no problem with it."
She gave a half-smile, though a hint of worry still lingered in her tone. "I just hope no, I pray that he does a good job for you. Because if this works the way you want it to, then honestly... everybody’s going to benefit from it."
At that mont, after their long conversation about Oliver, Malisa and Cora finally round up what they were doing. Cora quietly saw Malisa to the door.
**
Inside a well-furnished living room, with heavy curtains blocking most of the daylight, a man sat alone on a wide leather sofa. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, a glass of whiskey in his hand, staring into the glow of a wall-mounted television that was on but muted.
His brows were furrowed. His jaw clenched. Then, with a deep breath, he muttered bitterly under his breath.
"So... that good-for-nothing fool," he hissed, tightening his grip on the glass. "That useless, spineless Jas actually had the guts to do this?"
He shook his head slowly and scoffed, clearly infuriated.
"After everything I did... after all the groundwork I laid to convince Cora’s father to even give her that freedom to let her chase this ’true love nonsense.’ Does he know how hard it was to make that man soften even an inch?" His voice started to rise, the anger in his chest now bubbling to the surface.
"I made him believe. I told him to back off, to give her space, I thought Jas would handle it quietly just follow the damn plan, and get rid of her slowly. But no..."
He slamd the glass down on the table, the clinking sound echoing across the empty room.
"Jas just had to be clever. He just had to co up with his own stupid way to end things. And now look—his little genius plan has blown up in his face."
He leaned back and ran a hand down his face in utter frustration.
"What a fool."
At that mont, Festus stood up from his chair, his hands clenched tightly behind his back as he stared at the light filtering in through the curtains. His jaw tightened, his eyes cold with quiet resolve. The room around him felt heavier now too many failed plans, too many people he once trusted, and too little ti.
He exhaled deeply through his nose and muttered, more to himself than anyone else, "No problem. This just ans I’m going to do this by myself."
He turned slowly, walked to the small table where a stack of untouched letters and dusty files lay untouched, and picked one up. His fingers gripped the paper tighter than necessary as he continued, "I’m not going to rely on anybody anymore. Not after this ss. Not after how they’ve all proven they can’t get anything done."
A pause.
Then his voice dropped, lower and colder, laced with sothing dangerous. "I’m going to take the bull by the horn... and destroy everything that I need to destroy."
He stared down at the docunts in his hand, then tore them in half without hesitation. Bits of paper floated to the floor like silent witnesses to his decision.
He turned toward the door, his expression dark and unshaken.
"Because ti is actually running out for now."
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