"Her name is Zella Albert. She's a Telamur citizen who murdered her own family. She's a death convict, about a month in prison to repent for her mistake. Zella's a simple woman who worked at a town diner as a server."
"So you're saying…" Leo read through the portfolio.
Randall crossed his arms over his chest, staring at his boss, and wondered what's going on in his mind.
Leo tilted his head to one side, chewing in his bottom lip, and placed the portfolio down.
"Zella Albert's a death convict on the other side, Mr. Luciano. If we keep her, we need to change her identity and hide her. If we go the other way, we need to be careful. We could be shot dead, you know?"
Randall's greatest fear was letting the head sectors turn against them.
Leo pinched the bridge of his nose, asking himself what he had done, and if his wishes were that effective.
"What's the difference between us, Randall? We kill, too."
"For the purpose of silencing the rebels, yes."
"It's the same, Randall. We kill humans. The word kill is there. Why would they even have second thoughts with the best gunman and the best team they ever had? They could kill innocent citizens. Nothing's impossible for the head sectors, especially Yunis." His eyes were lifeless.
Leo's mind fleet away and he stared out of the window.
The Calvorite was beautiful at the view of his enormous glass panes, but it isn't admiring to the inner side.
Several people were killed due to igniting uprisings here and then. The country of Idris doesn't want to let mouths running of unclaimed rumors.
Many words that can destroy the image of no other than the middle-aged woman president of their country, Tina Yunis… Leo chuckled.
A lot of people might huddle in one place and start a revolution.
"What's your plan now, Leo?"
"Hide her. We need to hide her until we come up with a plan. It's impossible for us to deliver her to the penitentiary state, from where she's at. She might be missing at the Telamur now, searching for evidences of where she has gone." Leo swallowed.
Another job to do, another mouth to feed. Turning to the portfolio, he stared at her smiling face.
Her eyes were round, soft to see, and her lips were thin, but it was reddish. Probably, it's because of the lipstick.
Her heart-shaped face made everything symmetrical. "She's pretty, huh?" Leo whispered.
Randall lifted his eyebrows. Leo must have swept off his feet by a girl now.
He opened it once again, and there it is. The names of her family they claimed she killed, and her personal information.
"She is. Do I have to check her?"
"Please do, Randall. I wanted to come up with a plan alone. I'll share it with you guys on a drinking session later." Leo gave a little smile.
…
Randall secured his formal coat on, and knocked on Zella's door.
He held the doorknob. No answer came.
Randall pushed open the door, and he saw two women choosing clothes on the rack for Zella, who was clueless, letting them see what clothes she's fit and showed off her body image.
"Good morning, Mr. Randall Cross." The two women simultaneously greeted him.
Randall planted a fleeting look to Zella first, and plastered a grin in his lips.
He approached them with his hands behind the back, peeked at Zella, and there was no emotions present in her eyes.
"Hi, Mrs. Laina Luciano, are you now okay?" It felt so weird to call her with a fabricated name. Randall didn't even know if Leo has a plan.
For now, they had to keep this sweet, innocently-looking, dangerous woman in their mansion for days. Or else, the head sector of Calvorite, Jeremy Tyran, would soon find out about her identity.
"Can you continue that later? I don't think Laina is in the mood." The stylists folded the clothes and hung them to the rack once again.
They closed the zippers, and bowed down their heads to Randall.
Zella looked at the drawers, careful not to show any emotion, and sat there, trying to clear her head.
There's nothing to clear, though. Her mind was empty until four men went inside the bedroom, stopping her from slitting this man's throat.
As the door closed, Randall took a few steps, asking, "Did you stay the whole night here?"
"One thing, and answer me with this question: Is he really my husband?" Zella doesn't want to talk about her life. Or the life she knew. Maybe.
The tone of her voice was nothing compared to what she did on the first day.
Randall observed the enormous room, and the couches didn't even move an inch. She chewed her lip in, turning to Randall, and creased her forehead.
"Why aren't you answering me?" She's getting angry. Randall snickered.
"Why are you questioning us when you saw him walk inside the bedroom and save my throat from getting slit? He even laid you down…"
"You know why. He didn't sleep here at all." Zella cut him off that fast.
Randall must have lost his wit immediately, and didn't turn around to face her. Instead, he sighed, adjusted his tie, and smoothened out the creases of his coat.
Zella wouldn't back down until Randall face him and answer.
Of course, she's reversing the question. Randall must be second-in-command to check her here. Zella wondered what kind of answer she would get from him.
Randall sighed, saying, "You're still recovering, Mrs. Laina Luciano. See that bandage in your forehead, and the stitch. Feel that sting over your head."
Zella didn't want to check. She didn't even go to the bathroom to take a bath.
She's still scared, knowing of the culture the house was, and the way their furniture have gone to an old-fashioned way. She's not used to it, as if she found comfort on somewhere else but she doesn't remember.
"And that scar over your wrist, you attain that in a car accident, too." Randall knew how to twist his words.
Even though the real reason was him being a reckless driving, under influence, and the alcohol isn't working. Randall had to admit with his mistake.
"I didn't notice it. Still, why is my husband not sleeping here? If he is my husband, he has to sleep by my side." Zella was feisty.
She knew how to play the game, even though Randall was the one who initiated it. Zella shrugged, turning to the drawers, and sighed. Randall huff some air, calming himself down.
"By the way, Leo and I have a meeting by our company. Don't you want to come along?"
"No. I still have to tour around the house. Make sure there are wedding photos available in the living room. It's the only thing I can believe on."
Randall is doomed.
…
"I have those taken care of, Randall. You don't have to make a fuss about it. In fact, I should be the one on the fuss right now because I have to pretend I'm her lovely husband." Leo and Randall must have taken all the cards to blame each other.
First, it wasn't Leo's job to drag himself down with Randall, but he still did. Leo had to take a step back, and let Randall take care of it. But he didn't. Instead, he placed another job worth cursing for.
"You were the one who bumped her on the road. It caused her amnesia. I should be the one pacing back and forth now, and not you." Leo squint his eyes, placed down the pen, and crossed his arms over his chest.
Having a job as the CEO of a large and profitable company has never been that good. In fact, he just stuffed those paper moneys inside his vault down the basement.
"Are you blaming me now? If she hadn't escape, I wouldn't have harmed somebody."
"You are used to harming somebody, Randall. Just that, a death convict came to your car and slammed her body on it, losing her memories on the go." Leo stood up from his swiveling chair, checking the time, and the mansion was now set-up.
Pictures of them getting engaged should be displayed. Leo even ordered the stylists and make-up artists to take their time.
"How can we leave Zella Albert here? I mean, we couldn't. What if Jeremy Tyran and Sam Grobes left us with a job again? It can take on days before we leave and wipe out those names on the list." Leo and Randall aren't simple CEOs of a business, as everyone might think.
Leo Luciano is the head of Cassanos, a group of spies who killed rebels in Telamur.
They're allowing a handpicked gunmen and assassins to slay rebels who initiated uprisings, protests, or even wide-crowded rallies. Leo had to just pull the trigger on Zella's head, but no, he didn't do it.
He went to the large window, looking down at the skyscrapers.
"Do you know why I didn't kill Zella Albert that ruthlessly?" He should have done that, but the first time he saw Zella, Leo felt something else.
"Why?"
"I need a stage wife. Jeremy Tyran won't stop pushing his sister down my throat. It's so tiring. If I know Zella isn't a typical woman, a commoner, I mean, I wouldn't have said that." Leo was thinking hard. T
hese actions might drag him to the pit of consequences, a hellish fire waiting for them to get burn.
"You should have asked first." Leo turned to Randall with creased forehead.
"If I ask first, you would get killed."