Whisper Destiny

Chapter 41

~ Natasha ~

I went straight from the office to Ortiz & Co., driven by a gnawing need to confirm my suspicions. For the past three months, every time I texted Catherine about my plans to hook up with someone, her responses were always the same—brief, almost dismissive: "ok" or "sure." At first, I brushed it off, believing she was simply giving me the space we had agreed upon. But the pattern became impossible to ignore. Each time I made such plans, she never returned home.

Doubt festered within me, its tendrils wrapping tighter around my mind, blossoming into an inescapable suspicion. The notion that she was having an affair gnawed at me, and the name that haunted my thoughts relentlessly was Archer. Or, more disturbingly, that arrogant French singer we had encountered in Paris. My blood boiled each time I recalled our encounter, though I couldn't quite grasp the reason behind my intense emotion.

Unconsciously, I started to search for her online since that trip, and with each discovery, my suspicion grew stronger. I found out she had been in town several times over the past three months, each visit coinciding suspiciously with Catherine's absences.

Today, I was determined to catch them in the act. The certainty of that annoying woman being in town, fanned by her social media posts and online feeds, only fueled my anger.

My steps were initially confident and determined as I approached her office, but the closer I got, my resolve began to waver. Confidence slowly ebbed away, replaced by the rapid thud of my heart. What if my fears were true? The question gnawed at my insides, a part of me hoping it wasn't real. Yet, another part of me rationalized that this disclosure could do good for me, especially when we would like to go on our separate way later. I could be on upper hand.

"You despise her, Nat. If this is true, this will only intensify your resentment," I make up my mind, felt determined again.

When I arrived at her floor, an eerie silence greeted me. The usual hustle and bustle of the workplace was conspicuously absent, the quiet almost unsettling. With cautious steps, I made my way down the hall to Catherine's office. My heart pounded in anticipation as I reached for the door, and without knocking, I burst inside.

The office was empty. There was no sign of anyone here. Yet Catherine's jacket hung neatly on the back of her chair, a silent testament to her presence just moments before.

"Of course, she wouldn't do it here, in her office," I whispered to myself, a mix of relief and disappointment washing over me. The office was saturated with Catherine's familiar scent. For a fleeting moment, images of us kissing flashed through my mind—the warmth of her lips, the intensity of our connection. These thoughts intruded quite frequently lately, especially when there was a glimpse of Catherine around me. But I pushed them away with a sharp mental command. "What the hell, Natasha, focus on your mission!"

I exited the room too abruptly, colliding with someone outside the room.

"Ouch, who are you...," a voice said.

"Natasha?"

"Astrid!"

We spoke simultaneously, surprise etched on both our faces.

"What are you doing here?"

"You're still here?"

Again, we spoke in unison, a moment of awkwardness hanging between us.

"Okay, you first," Astrid said, giving me an understanding look.

"Why are you still here on a Friday night? It's already 8 p.m.," I asked, unable to hide my confusion.

She sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. "It's not just me. Cate insisted all the heads including me to stay late tonight. And judging by the on-going discussion, I don't think it'll end anytime soon. She asked me to grab her card to buy us dinner. Do you want anything? I can add to the order."