Meanwhile, Ms. Sandra stood at the entrance of Northman Media, her placard held firmly, drawing curious stares from passersby. As Mr. Northman's black car arrived, his driver swiftly opened the door, and Mr. Northman emerged, impeccably dressed as always. Spotting the protesting woman, he signaled his secretary to address the situation, dismissing it as a routine occurrence amidst other protests.
Approaching Sandra, Nelson, a member of Mr. Northman's staff, finally acknowledged her presence. But before he could engage her, Sandra rushed towards him, her grip on his shirt tight as tears streamed down her face. "Please, where is my husband? He entered Mr. Northman's residence last night, but he never came out," she pleaded, her distress palpable.
Caught off guard, Nelson attempted to pry her hand from his shirt, aware of the growing crowd's attention. "Madam, please, you're embarrassing me. Let's talk calmly," he urged, struggling to free himself.
"Holding onto my shirt won't solve anything."
"Please, my husband, bring him out, please," Sandra pleaded desperately, her grip on Nelson's shirt unyielding as he continued to struggle. Seeing no other recourse, Nelson dialed the police emergency line 811, urgently requesting assistance.
"Can we know your location, sir?" the voice on the other end inquired.
"I am at Northman Media. Please, this is urgent. A woman is harassing me," Nelson responded, his voice strained with frustration as he attempted to break free from Sandra's grasp.
The call abruptly ended, leaving Sandra anxiously pleading with Nelson. "Please, madam, holding onto me and crying like this won't solve any problems. I am not the one holding your husband," he reasoned, hoping to calm her down.
Meanwhile, Mr. Northman, waiting at the reception, noticed Nelson's delay in entering the building. His attention was drawn to the commotion as he witnessed Nelson struggling with the woman, Sandra. As Felicia's car passed by, Mr. Northman thought he saw a mocking smirk on her face, though he dismissed it as a figment of his imagination. Hurrying over to Nelson, Mr. Northman approached just as a police car arrived on the scene.
Tapping Nelson on the back, Mr. Northman could see the exhaustion on his face as Sandra's grip remained firm. "Sir, I really don't know what's wrong with this woman. She keeps talking about her husband, but I don't even know her or her husband," Nelson explained, hoping for resolution amidst the gathering crowd's curious gazes.
"Madam, the police are here. Please explain to them what the problem is; it's their duty to help find your husband," Nelson urged, attempting to pry Sandra's hand from his shirt. Sensing the presence of the police, Sandra quickly released her grip on Nelson and turned towards them.
"My husband…" she began to stutter, her voice trailing off in uncertainty.
"Madam, we don't want to arrest you for harassment, as Mr. Nelson doesn't want us to," one of the officers interjected. "If your husband is missing, come with us to the station and file a complaint."
Sandra's expression softened momentarily at the mention of the police. How could she explain to them the truth—that she had gone to Mr. Northman's house to engage in illegal activity? Feeling a wave of shame wash over her, she dropped her placard and began to walk away. Nelson signaled to the police to accompany her to the station to file an undertaking, lest she return to harass him again.
"Madam, please," Nelson called after her, but Sandra ignored him, quickening her pace. Suddenly, she broke into a run, the police officers urging her to stop and come with them to the station. But Sandra paid no heed, fleeing in embarrassment and fear of the consequences that awaited her confession.
Felicia stepped out of her red Ferrari, a deliberate choice to match her vibrant personality. After enduring a tumultuous journey of accidents, heartbreak, and recovery, she resolved to embrace a daring and mischievous demeanor. Every aspect of her appearance reflected this newfound attitude—from the crimson hue of her car to her red lipstick, even down to the subtle shift in her smile, now tinged with mischief.