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WESKER

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WESKER

New York. Also known as the city that never sleeps, not until a hit song that came out last year influenced many to regard it as such.

I arrived an hour earlier than the designated time of the event that Saturday night, just to familiarize myself with the whole venue.

In order to save time and ensure minimal exposure, I went straight to the central control room to observe everything from the surveillance cameras.

Dr. Spencer dispatched a security team since dawn, to check the surroundings of the French-Renaissance inspired hotel for any potential threat.

They just came back to report that the whole 18 floors of the building are empty and clear of any suspicious items that could cause major concerns later on.

Having nothing else to do, I spent the remaining time chatting with the head security, while casually checking out the guest list he's carrying, before I showed up to the lobby by eight o'clock.

One by one, the guests have arrived and are being lead to their corresponding tables in an orderly fashion.

A temporary stage has been set in the farthest corner where the founders and executives are expected to give their speeches.

The whole boundary of the lobby has been optimized to accommodate all the guests, placing wide tables in close proximity, surrounded by a dozen chairs each. 

Dr. Marcus, one of the remaining founders refused to attend due to the ongoing controversy over his atrocious acts and his growing rift with his fellow founder, Dr. Spencer.

To my surprise, William came, all suited up and accompanied by a female colleague, named Annette.

He indirectly gave me the impression that he had no interest to travel all the way here just to listen to random old men talk endlessly about themselves.

A male hotel staff escorted them towards their table and offered some drinks while waiting for others to arrive.

Meanwhile, Dr. Spencer and other executives from HQ and other parts of the world stepped out of the elevator, across the corner where I stand.

I waited for Y/N to walk out after everyone left the lift but it appears that she isn't included in their circle.

I originally thought she'll get fetched by Dr. Spencer himself since he's grown fond of her lately, which I found creepy.

Instead, she arrived in a red beetle sedan without any a driver or bodyguard of her own.

And to think her outfit alone can attract stalkers like bees into flowers, and to make matters worse, she's frequently seen on television.

It was a simple set of clothes, however, there's something about how she utilized them to their full potential.

However, the fact that most women wear either floral long gowns, or a pair of formal white suits that I start to see clones of my own sister wherever I look, hers is actually a breath of fresh air.

I remember that Y/N liked that color, but I've never seen her expose more skin than her face and forearms at the training facility, I almost forgot she once played basketball at her former school.

Three of the valet drivers waiting at the entryway  proved my point when they began fighting with each other on who's going to take the key from her.

Y/N greeted them cheerfully, just like the same way she did back then to everyone she meets on the street.

Despite gaining more fame, she's still the same.

All this time I speculated that she's going to hold a grudge against me and she proved me wrong.

I felt relieved to see it with my own eyes.

The receptionists giggled after she passed by and wasted no time gossiping about her private life.

"Did you know that she's being rumored to marry a business tycoon?"

My jaws dropped upon hearing that from the tall, blonde-haired woman, standing behind the long, wooden desk.

I quickly turned my head back around to find where Y/N went before I lose her within the thick crowd.

"Isn't she like... eighteen or younger, if I'm not mistaken?"

The petite brunette's response has a hint of disgust in it.

"Unbelievable..."

"... I guess there's nothing that money can't buy. I mean, who would reject a billionaire if he's old enough to die at their honeymoon. Or she can just cheat with her bodyguard while he's on his deathbed."

Whenever I hear girls talk this way, my patience tear apart into pieces, I couldn't stay a second longer to heed the rest of it.

However, in this case, I'm thankful that live, background music is low and slow enough to let me listen for more.

"But how did the paparazzi know such a thing?"

The brunette leaned forward to whisper her answer.

"It's because she told that story to some random pap herself."

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