The Second Marriage Chance

Philip

[The other night]

An encrypted message from Mariano blinked on my screen, summoning me to meet at the secluded Neon River location. Despite still fuming from a heated argument with Sarah during our last encounter, I knew better than to defy Mariano’s call. I rearranged my entire afternoon schedule to make it happen.

From Ethan’s mansion, I drove to Neon River. Usually, I met with Mariano alone, without bodyguards, to maintain a low profile. Most people in Highland Hills know me, and drawing unwanted attention to Neon River could implicate me in unpleasant speculation.

Mariano’s jet-black Aston Martin emerged from the shadows as I approached in a sleek silhouette. His assistant approached me and demanded, “Give me your keys.”

I didn’t get along with this lowlife; he was probably jealous of Mariano’s trust in me.

Initially hesitant to relinquish control of my vehicle, my gaze shifted to Mariano seated inside, casually exhaling plumes of aromatic smoke through the partially open window. His nonchalant indifference to the tense exchange convinced me to comply without protest. I surrendered my keys into the awaiting palm.

One of the guards opened the door, and I got in next to Mariano. The car reeked of tobacco smoke, but I didn’t show any sign of discomfort. I couldn’t afford to cough or show weakness in that confined space.

Mariano has helped me a lot with business. Thanks to his strategies, I was gaining more and more success. The main difference between us was that Mariano also operated illegally, and I was one of his pawns, especially in racing, while all my bonds and stocks in the market were legal.

I wanted to ask him, ‘What is it this time?’ but I waited for his instructions instead. I never dared to question any of his actions.

“Let’s go!” he finally uttered, prompting his driver to start the ignition as another associate roared my own vehicle’s engine to life.

My mind was brimming with curiosity about where Mariano and I were headed. His vehicle pulled up beside the port where a large yacht was docked.

“You’ll represent me tonight inside that yacht, Philip,” Mariano said. This wasn’t an unusual request; I had frequently acted as his emissary for over a year on various matters.NôvelDrama.Org owns this text.

“What exactly do you need me to do?” I inquired, seeking clarification on the specifics of the task at hand.

“The person there will show you documents I’ll use against one of my business rivals. They’ll explain everything to you, and you will obtain my contracts and certificates. Your sole responsibility is to listen attentively and avoid engaging in any discourse. Once you have acquired the documents, return here immediately and share the information they have conveyed.”

Following Mariano’s instructions, I got out of the vehicle and approached his assistant to retrieve the key to my motorcycle, which I had previously surrendered. The assistant, seemingly reluctant, regarded me with a hard stare but eventually relinquished the key.

Two guards followed me inside the yacht. To my surprise, I saw Madam Olsen having dinner, the person Mariano was transacting with. She wiped her mouth, a slight smile playing at the corners of her lips. Remembering Mariano’s instruction to remain silent, I kept my questions to myself.

Madam Olsen handed me the documents and began explaining them. I reviewed them carefully.

“Looks like the rumors are true. You’re Mariano’s new favorite,” Madam Olsen said, sipping her wine. “Where’s he hiding?”

I ignored her, following Mariano’s directive not to engage in conversation. “The documents are complete. Thank you, Madam Olsen.”

I placed the documents in the steel case and nodded at her.

As I turned to depart, Madam Olsen’s next words stopped me in my tracks, reigniting the curiosity that had been simmering beneath the surface. “I have another envelope here, one that pertains to your ex-wife, Sarah.”

She placed the envelope on the table, her long, crimson-tinted fingers tapping impatiently.

“Madam Olsen, did you investigate my wife?” I couldn’t help but ask, triggered by her comment.

One of Mariano’s guards immediately issued a stern warning, “President Cornell, remember, no talking!”

“I’ve just performed a simple task, President Cornell. Inside this envelope lies the repository of all your wife’s secrets,” urged Madam Olsen. Her words hung heavy in the air, instantly capturing my curiosity like a moth to a flame. What could she possibly know about Sarah that I didn’t?

“I’m already aware of the situation regarding Sarah. How can I be certain the documents you’ll present aren’t fabricated?” I questioned.

Madam Cornell nodded in agreement. “Indeed.”

“I’ve already conducted my investigation into Sarah. I have resources similar to yours, Madam Olsen. Therefore, I no longer need your assistance. Thank you.” With a firm turn, I withdrew from her presence, unwilling to waste more time.

Yet, Madam Olsen persisted, evidently intent on testing my patience. “Really? Have you also investigated why you’ve been utterly unable to uncover any trace of Sarah’s real identity due to her immense technological prowess?”

“What do you mean by that?” I inquired, arching an eyebrow.

“President Cornell!” The guard barked out a warning, his voice raised in alarm.

“I’ll offer you a single clue, and that’s all… Sarah Mitchell is a top-tier graduate of the prestigious Crestwood University. She’s a highly skilled and exceptionally talented computer software engineer-devastatingly good at covering her tracks. That is precisely why you’ve found unearthing any evidence of her existence impossible. She has mastered the art of ensuring no trace is left behind.” Madam Olsen divulged, her revelation hitting me like a bolt from the blue.

“She makes certain she leaves no trail because of her expertise. Any online information will be seamlessly deleted, and any investigation stymied by her skills. But here’s the real revelation, President Cornell-she accomplished all these activities right beneath your nose at the Serenity Pines Estate for the past three years!”

What? Sarah accomplished all that?

“Madam Olsen, are you insinuating that Sarah carried out all you’ve disclosed at Serenity Pines Estate without my knowledge?” I exclaimed incredulously.

“Yes, President Cornell, because, quite simply, you never paid any mind to Sarah in the past.”

My eyes flickered, my fist involuntarily clenched, acknowledging the veracity of her statement.

Madam Olsen kept going, keeping me hooked with her insights into Sarah. “And guess what? She even got someone to sneak into your villa while you two were apart. She made sure the computer she used left no tracks. Maybe I’ve said too much already. You’ll see all the proof in this file, President Cornell. Now, it’s my turn-I want to know who Mariano is.”

With a surging sense of urgency, as if my very life hinged upon it, I snatched the envelope from the table. Madam Olsen’s eyes widened in shock at my abrupt action, but I did not heed her startled expression.

“President Cornell!” Madam Olsen shouted angrily, her voice reverberating across the deck. Ignoring her loud reaction, I quickly moved towards the exit of the yacht, taking long steps until I reached the shiny Aston Martin parked nearby.

I handed the requested documents to Mariano’s assistant, retaining possession of the other mysterious envelope.

The assistant’s gaze hardened as he scrutinized the additional envelope. “What are you concealing? You’re in serious trouble, President Cornell!”

“These documents are mine!” I bellowed in defiance.

A voice boomed from the yacht’s loudspeaker, unmistakably Madam Olsen’s. “Mariano, President Cornell has just committed theft. He seized a document that was not part of our agreement.”

Clearly displeased with my insolent response, the assistant spoke urgently into the microphone clipped to his neckline. “Attention, everyone! By direct order of the boss: Execute Sarah Mitchell!”

Fuck!

Shock rippled through the surroundings as it became apparent that the order stemmed from the assistant himself, not Mariano. Reacting instinctively, I seized the moment and struck the assistant with a forceful punch. I snatched his firearm before leaping onto my waiting motorcycle and peeling away at maximum speed.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I cursed repeatedly, panic gripping me as the gravity of this escalating situation became evident. This catastrophic turn was undoubtedly my own damn fault! Damn it all!

Turning to Trey for information on Sarah’s whereabouts, I discovered they could not locate my ex-wife. Thankfully, she used my car, allowing me to track her via GPS.

In a final attempt to shield others from the chaotic whirlwind that had enveloped my existence, I opted to keep my darker side hidden. Yet, my assumption proved to be misguided.