As I walk down the sidewalk to the café a few blocks down the road to pick up the milkshake I ordered for breakfast, I catch sight of the paper the newspaper vendor flashes in my face. I glance quickly at the other papers stacked on his stand to be sure of what I'm reading and I can't contain my gasp.
"Lance Haven, an abuser?" Written boldly on every paper on the stack with a picture of Patricia when she was still a goddess and a picture of Lance in all his glory. I try to process the headline, I don't bother reading the rest of the article.
If there's so much of this out there in prints, then the internet must have gone haywire by now. To my defense, I've been too caught up with my morning routine to check my phone, hence I'd have seen this before now.
I slap the paper in my hand back down on the stack and shove a few bodies of working class men, who still read the papers, out of my way. All my years of working as a journalist, I still get surprised by how many newspapers published out of every media house gets sold weekly, like how do people even still read newspapers.
I rush into the cafe and try to settle my breathing as I whip out my phone from my bag. I already know the source of the news and I know exactly where to look to get the full story.
Turning the phone on, I begin to surf. A few clicks and I'm on the main news site. There's a clip of Patricia crying and an article underneath. I waste no time in clicking the play button.
"...he'd beat me up like he does the punching bag dangling in his room and he'd sweet talk me later, acting like it all happened in my head," she says through sobs. "If I didn't retain injuries from those, I'd definitely think it was a nightmare. But I did." Her sobbing intensifies as she turns her arm around so the camera can capture it. It is sure dark with patches of blue and red like someone did aggressively manhandled her. It's not a pretty sight. I begin to feel my stomach swirl.
Suddenly, I harbor hate towards Lance. As adorable as he looks, he can hurt a soul, and that's very disturbing. If Lance did that to Patricia, then he's a fucking pig and I'd do everything to see him rot in prison.
I think about confronting him right away, but I don't want anything to disrupt the mission. If all that Patty has said about him is true, then I'd need to double up my efforts and avoid anything that'll ruin it.
I head back to the office, thinking back to yesterday and how Noah spoke of Lance. I actually wanted to call Lance the moment I left the capitol to hear what he has to say in his defence, but I obviously can't do that, because that would jeopardise the entire secret of my job. I can't afford to blow my cover just yet because of some speculations.
I've seen what a drama queen Patricia is, so it's possible she's just making up stories to get back at Lance, with Noah as her support system. God, those two.
I know he has nothing scheduled for lunch time, I should probably go talk to him then. I wonder if he's seen the headlines because they were my only backup as to how I know anything about the issue and I'm aching to find out if the speculations are true. I don't see him as a man with no honour and a coward to verbally and physically abuse anyone but then, I've witnessed a scene with him and Patricia once and how he spoke to her and called her names.
When I'm back in my office, I watch the time on my laptop tick down to the last minute before lunchtime. I know Lance is having a video conference meeting at the moment, which he should be rounding off any moment now.
The moment the intercom on my table buzzes, I jump up.
"Grace, could you call the cafeteria for some more coffee for my office?" Lance speaks through the machine and I hold the answer button to voice my response.
"Right away sir."
This is my chance. If he's asking for coffee, that means he doesn't have plans to leave his office anytime soon.
Within a few minutes, the lunch lady comes with the coffee and I stop her in the hallway to collect the cup. I need an excuse to be in his office.
I tap on his door before I swing it open and carry the coffee to the empty coffee pot just by the corner.
My confidence is left at the door, because the moment I step into his space, I feel tension rising within me. I completely avoid looking at him as I begin to make his coffee. I know he likes his coffee with cream and no sugar, so I prepare it that way. I carry the cup to his desk and catch a glimpse of him, he's watching me closely with his hand on his chin and his back pressed against the back of his chair as he sits graciously. His white dress shirt is rolled up to his elbows and I think this is the first I've seen him not doing something work related. He's not tapping on his phone or laptop, he doesn't have his AirPods on and even the TVs always playing different news channels are turned off.
His office is completely silent. Well except for my hysterical breathing.
"Did you run a marathon, Grace?" He asks and I snap my eyes back to him.
I drop the mug of coffee on the table but not gently, I drop it with a force that the content swirls in the cup and almost spills out. All the while, my eyes are on him.
"Woah. Careful there." He warns.
I still don't say a word and I should probably turn around and walk out or just simply tell him my mind but I don't how to start a conversation with me asking if he truly is an abuser.
"You know, Grace, I could feel your aura all the way from the door and I think I could even hear your stomping feet from your office. So will you tell me what the problem is or are you gonna stare daggers into everything you land your eyes on?"
It's now I realize I'm quiet because I'm angry, not because I'm nervous. I know I'm a very expressive person but sometimes, my expression, body language and face betray my inner thought.
Part of me wants to ask Lance about these speculations because I don't want it to be true and the other part of me who loves her work so much almost sees this as an easy route to doing a good job in ruining his reputation.
He challenges me with his eyes and everything I'm holding in comes spilling out.
First, on instinct, I turn his laptop to face me and minimize the work sheet displayed on it, I click a few times and end up on the news website. I click on his news and turn the laptop back to him.
He scoffs and closes the laptop. "This is what is causing your distress?"
I eye his straight faced expression and narrow my eyes at him. "How do you look so unbothered by that? The news is everywhere. Are you not worried about how the public would see you?" I ask. "Or how this could be a way of spoiling business for you either with the old customers or future clients."
"I can't be bothered about all that. Plus, I expected Luna to pull a scheme like this. I can't believe you're following all that media shit, Grace. I told you not to be moved by what you see on the blogs," he says, standing up, he picks up his coffee and turns to look out his giant window.
"So all the things she said in that video. All the things she said you did to her? They're not true?" I challenge him, but he just stands quietly, sipping his coffee with one hand in his pocket.
I wait for him to say 'of course they're not true, Grace' but he doesn't. He doesn't deny it, neither does he admit it.
He turns back to look at me and I try to read the expression on his face. His brown eyes don't show anything related to defense.
"Oh my God. It's true. The recorded phone call on the clip of you threatening her? The part where she said...." I begin to recall every moment and ask him. "It's all true?"
Please Lance, deny everything. Just deny it ever happening. My mind is starting to race as I challenge him. He still doesn't react, he comes around to the front of his desk where I'm standing and he half sits on the edge of his desk, his long legs stretched under him.
He bores me with a look that makes me almost cower away to my office but I don't, I maintain my stance, crossing my hands against my chest.
"The way you're looking at me right now, if you truly believe all that lunatic said, why aren't you taking to your heels right now? After all, women like you are the kinds to condemn abusive men like me," he says with a shrug.
"Women like me?" I clarify.
"I've seen the rape report program you've been following, Grace. Flyers and pamphlets are everywhere in your office," he speaks with a gruff.
I never thought I was being too obvious with any of that. This means I have to be more careful with anything related to my other work. It could have been something else. Like an email from one of the women I've started to follow up on.
"At this point, I'll just have to tell you to believe whatever you want to believe." His lips start to form a smirk.
I give an unrelenting stare, my mind now screaming at me to leave his presence. The least he could have done is give me the benefit of the doubt and make me understand that he's not the man people portray or have been portraying him to be. Disappointment fills me and I shake my head.
I can't stand being in his presence, so I come up with an excuse to leave. "I don't feel too well, please, I have to go. I can work from home, if that's okay by you." I make a turn, my heels bumping into each other, causing me to almost lose my balance. I see him move from my periphery, but I quickly recover my balance before he can come close to me.
"It's alright, Anderson. You can turn in the rest of my work mails for the day and you can take the rest of the afternoon off. You should be better by evening so you can finish the the day's work at home," he says and goes back to sit on his chair.
I try to ignore that he just used my last name, as I make my way back to my office. I quickly reply to the necessary mails and do the needful then hurriedly grab my belongings and head out.
I set a new plan into motion as I make my way back home in my car. My head is racing through thoughts, trying to decipher which holds a greater possibility than which.
Lance has proven to me that he doesn't deserve me defending him. Everything Noah said about him is true. He's a manipulative so full-of-himself, dick head. How can he be so cruel to all these women that have ever been in his life. What has he gained from that? Why do I ask the obvious, he likes to be in control, I'm should not be surprised it includes control over the lives of the women that love him. Then once he's bored of them, he tosses them like they mean nothing.
Now, all I have in mind is to give Noah all he needs to get the motherfucker. I don't mind being caught. He has to pay for this. For every woman he has hurt, they will get justice one way or another.