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Chapter 35 He Should Have Guessed It Was Charlie Clemens
Sophia:
She had really thought she’d talked some sense into him–turns t she’d y
wisted her breath.
“You love her, and you still slept with Mia Jones?! Why don’t you just go to hell!” she slammed the table in fury. If she were stronger, she would’ve smashed that ashtray over his head.
Kyle stood up. The torn up divorce agreement slid from his lap, stering across the floor in a mess of crumpled pages.
“Everything she sold or burned, I’ll get it all back–including her art! We will get back together. This life, this world–she can only be with me?”
With that, he stormed out.
Sophia sat frozen for a few seconds before bolting up and chasing after him to shout, “That was just a copy you ripped! Don’t think this means you can delay the divorce! It won’t work! I’m telling you–it won’t work!”
Damn bastard!
Playing the part of the tragic romantic now? Where the hell was this act before?
Too late remorse is worth less than dirt!
Rubbing her aching temples, she sighed. With the way things were going… this divorce was not going to be easy.
Spring nights in the rain were as cold as autumn.
Kyle sat on the front steps of his villa, watching the surveillance footage from the day she burned their wedding photo. She’d stood in the yard, eyes filled with sorrow, yet so resolutely tossed the lighter into the bin.
And what had he been doing at that moment?
He saw himself inside, cheerfully chatting away on the phone.
It was like seeing a ghost.
He couldn’t look. Couldn’t remember. Couldn’t bear to think about it…
If only time could rewind, back to that day. He would never be such a bastard again. He’d beg her forgiveness. Tell her the only woman he ever loved was her.
Rain landed on his face, but the drops that slid down were warm.
Terry stood behind him, holding an umbrella—but the rain was too heavy, it barely helped.
As a subordinate, Terry couldn’t meddle in his boss’s personal life. But today’s outcome… somehow felt inevitable. The Madam was far too intelligent to endure it forever.
“Buy back all the jewelry she sold. Put them back where they were
“Yes, sir.”
“Reprint the wedding photo using the original image. Same frame. Hang it back in place.”
“Understood.”
Whatever Kyle said, Terry agreed to without question.
But even if they recovered the sold items, they weren’t the originals. The burned wedding photo, even if recreated, was just a replica. The sentiment once attached to it–long gone. Would Madam even be moved by that?
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Kyle’s phone vibrated.
He answered it slowly.
“Mr. Jackson, we’ve tracked your wife. Yesterday afternoon, she de a card purchase in a mall in Singapore.”
“Singapore?” Kyle frowned. “That’s impossible. I didn’t find any ght records.”
“But we did find her exit record via a Gulfstream G650 private jete owner of the plane won’t disclose their identity.”
Kyle’s expression turned thunderous.
He ended the call and stood, striding straight into the rain. “Alert the flight crew. I’m flying to Singapore immediately. Also… check if Charlie is there.”
The only person in the whole of Vanclyn capable of spiriting his wille away so quietly—was that man.
He should have seen it coming.
The next morning.
Candice had breakfast, then returned to her room to change into a business–casual suit with flat leather shoes. She tucked a voice recorder into her bag and left the hotel.
Charlie didn’t realize she was missing until he was about to leave for the summit.
“Where is she?”
“Oh, she went to the factory,” Jerry replied with some hesitation. She noticed some discrepancies in the data and wanted to
check it out herself.”
“…She’s not mad and skipping work, is she?” Charlie asked with suspicion, recalling how roughly he’d yanked her the night
before.
“No, definitely not. She really went to the factory. It’s not a huge issue, but not small either. She said you had a full schedule today, so she’d go on her own.”
Charlie nodded, dropping the matter.
Candice took a cab to the factory.
She enjoyed the scenery along the way, using the quiet ride to settle her thoughts.
Upon arrival at the island–based plant, she introduced herself. The factory director, along with admin and finance staff, came out to greet her. The director, a man around forty, was stocky, tanned, and wore a flattery–laden smile.
After brief introductions, she learned his name was Edward, a local who had worked his way up from the shop floor over fifteen
years.
“We’ve heard the CEO was coming for a visit–everyone’s thrilled really excited to see him in person,” Edward gushed with
enthusiasm.
“Well,” Candice stifled a laugh, “I’m afraid that won’t happen this time. His schedule’s too full. You’ll have to settle for seeing
me.”
“With all due respect, Miss Hale is even more beautiful than a pageant queen–this is no ‘settling.””
“You’re too good at compliments, Director Dukeke.”
After some polite conversation, Edward gave her a full tour of the executive offices, workshop floor, cafeteria, and more.
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Candice wasn’t in a rush. She asked a few production–related questions, took some pictures with her phone to “show the CEO,” and maintained an approachable presence.
Edward seemed to buy it.
At noon, Candice requested to eat in the employee cafeteria.
She queued with the workers, got her lunch tray, and deliberately sat down with three female staffers.
At first, she chatted about lighthearted topics. Once they loosened up, she asked about their attendance system.
The timecard machine was located at the workshop entrance–nourveillance camera nearby.
In other words, someone could easily clock in twice for two people and no one would notice.
“I heard this place is haunted,” Candice whispered conspiratorially.
“Who told you that?” one of the women gasped.
“The GM at HQ. Said two employees here clock in every day but are never seen.”
The three women froze–confused, nervous, even fearful.
After a long pause, the older one hesitantly said, “Could it be Frank and Lindsay?”
Candice’s eyes lit up. “Yes, that’s them. So you do know.”
“I’m a long–time employee, but those two are recent hires. At first nobody noticed. Everyone’s so busy and tired–we don’t keep track of who shows up. But over time, people realized nobody had ever actually seen the people behind those names. When someone asked the workshop supervisor, he got mad and told us to mind our business. So we dropped it.”
Another woman exclaimed, “That’s creepy! Who’s clocking them in? Ghosts?”
The third woman looked terrified. “Maybe there was an accident in the past? People say spirits repeat what they did before dying
Candice said nothing.
Judging by their reactions, the regular employees were unaware. Meanwhile, her voice recorder was still running, capturing every word–especially the names.
On the other side of the cafeteria, the finance staff, HR, and Director Duke were quietly watching her.
That afternoon.
Candice called the workshop supervisor, HR rep, finance team, and Director Duke together.
With a smile, she said, “I’d like to meet Frank and Lindsay.”
Everyone:
“”
The workshop supervisor walked to the door, and with a loud bang, slammed it shut–then locked it.
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