#This is how I imagine Nicholas' office. The media does not belong to me, the credit goes to the original owner.
The reddish-orange glow of the majestic sunrise seeps in through the curtains, waking me up. I wash my face and gather my hair into a ponytail. I place the newspaper gently on the kitchen counter and embark on the ritual of preparing a steaming cup of latte, savoring the aroma that fills the air.
With my coffee in hand, I make my way to the balcony, craving the embrace of the morning breeze. Leaning against the railing, I let my thoughts wander, reflecting upon the whirlwind of events that have unfolded in the past few days. The tranquil solitude of the early morning allows me to gather my thoughts.
As I stand lost in my contemplation, the familiar chime of my phone cuts through the tranquil morning, snapping me back to reality. Curiosity sparks within me as I glance at the caller ID, only to find Skylar's name flashing on the screen.
"Good morning, Skylar," I answer, trying to sound as awake as possible.
"MISS HAYLEY PRESTON, WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME ABOUT NICHOLAS LORDE?" she exclaims, her voice filled with a mix of excitement and frustration.
"Whoa, calm down, Skylar. What's gotten into you?" I respond, taken aback by her outburst.
"Haven't you seen today's newspaper? Go check the front page," she urges, her tone still brimming with intensity.
Curiosity piqued, I hurry back inside and grab the newspaper from the counter. I quickly flip through the pages until I reach the front page, my eyes scanning the headlines. There it is, a captivating photo of Nicholas Lorde, his name splashed across the headline. My heart races as I read the accompanying article.
"Skylar, what is this?" I ask, my voice trembling with confusion. There, displayed prominently on the front page, are photographs capturing intimate moments between Nicholas and me: his firm grip on my hands and my gentle touch on his cheeks. My heart sinks as I realize that someone has been stalking us, invading our privacy without consent.
With a mix of anticipation and dread, I delve into the article, only to be confronted with a web of speculation and insinuations about our relationship. The words on the page accuse me of being a gold digger, attempting to tarnish my character and exploit our connection for personal gain. The sheer audacity of the article leaves me seething with anger and disbelief.
"This article is beyond deplorable," I whisper to myself, the weight of injustice heavy upon me.
"Are you still there, Hayley?" Sky's voice comes through the phone, filled with urgency.
"I'll have to call you back," I reply abruptly, not giving her a chance to respond, and end the call. My mind is focused on one thing—I have to find Nicholas.
I dial the number of the one person who can assist me in this situation. "Good morning, Ms. Black. I apologize for reaching out so early, but I desperately need to locate Nicholas."
Ms. Black's voice carries a sense of calm professionalism. "Good morning, Hayley. No need to apologize. I understand the gravity of the situation. Nicholas is currently at The Lorde Corporation today. He has a meeting at 9:00 A.M. Shall I provide you with the address?"
"Yes, please," I reply eagerly, my heart pounding with determination. "I need to speak with him immediately. It's urgent."
"Of course, Hayley. I will send you the address right away," Ms. Black assures me.
"Thank you, Ms. Black. I appreciate your assistance," I express my gratitude.
"Take care, dear," Ms. Black's voice resonates with genuine concern before she ends the call.
YOU ARE READING
The Faded Rose
CintaHayley Preston is an independent woman who is fiercely loyal and would go to any ends for her loved ones. She is ambitious and hard working yet soft and sensitive. She is optimistic and always sees the best in whoever she meets. Nicholas Lorde, a m...
