All This Time… He Was Waiting for HER - Chapter 9: Chapter 9
You are reading All This Time… He Was Waiting for HER, Chapter 9: Chapter 9. Read more chapters of All This Time… He Was Waiting for HER.
The Gail Corporation was under siege. A swarm of hired online trolls flooded comment sections with vicious attacks, tearing the company's reputation to shreds. Overnight, their credibility collapsed under the weight of this unprecedented crisis.
Business partners lined up to cancel contracts—even if it meant swallowing massive penalty fees. Suppliers halted deliveries, demanding explanations from Corey before they'd lift a finger.
This wasn't some anonymous metropolis. While some companies hesitated to cross the Gail family, nobody dared challenge the Sterlings. The culprit was obvious: Sebastian Sterling had orchestrated the entire disaster.
I stared at the newsfeed, completely baffled. Corey had secretly funneled tens of millions to Jennie for three years. Now that he only owned half a hotel's shares, why was he suddenly acting so defensive?
After three years abroad playing the imprisoned victim, Jennie had finally cleared her name. Shouldn't Corey be popping champagne with her? She'd played her part in their twisted charade, terrified I'd discover her fraud—yet here he was, dragging his feet.
Before I could puzzle it out, my phone rang. Muscle memory made me answer—until that familiar voice sent me scrambling to hang up. I blocked all domestic numbers, but Corey wouldn't quit. Apology texts came pouring in across continents. At first I deleted them individually, until they arrived faster than I could swipe them away. Eventually I just mass-deleted the whole flood.
When texts failed, he bombarded my inbox. Within an hour: 99+ unread emails. The notification badge burned like a warning light behind my eyes. I uninstalled the app entirely—digital scorched earth.
Back home, Corey watched his messages vanish into the void. His secretary stood dripping sweat in the office, clutching contracts. "Sir, the online backlash is spiraling. Multiple partners are terminating deals. At this rate—"
"Where is she?" Corey snapped.
The secretary blinked. "Who—?"
"The person I told you to find!"
"I've turned this city inside out—hotels, transit hubs, everywhere—but with the company collapsing, I couldn't—"
Corey grabbed his keys mid-sentence. At the police station, officers scrolled through systems fruitlessly. "Mr. Gail, our records show Mrs. Zettel's identity was deactivated. Without current documentation..."
Deactivated? That answered it—her brief call that morning. He practically dragged the officer to the records office. Staff scrambled to pull Winona's new identity paperwork.
Jennie's messages piled up unread as Corey paced like a caged animal. When the documents finally surfaced, he photographed them and fired them to his secretary. Ten minutes later: Winona's flight details blinked on his screen.
Business partners lined up to cancel contracts—even if it meant swallowing massive penalty fees. Suppliers halted deliveries, demanding explanations from Corey before they'd lift a finger.
This wasn't some anonymous metropolis. While some companies hesitated to cross the Gail family, nobody dared challenge the Sterlings. The culprit was obvious: Sebastian Sterling had orchestrated the entire disaster.
I stared at the newsfeed, completely baffled. Corey had secretly funneled tens of millions to Jennie for three years. Now that he only owned half a hotel's shares, why was he suddenly acting so defensive?
After three years abroad playing the imprisoned victim, Jennie had finally cleared her name. Shouldn't Corey be popping champagne with her? She'd played her part in their twisted charade, terrified I'd discover her fraud—yet here he was, dragging his feet.
Before I could puzzle it out, my phone rang. Muscle memory made me answer—until that familiar voice sent me scrambling to hang up. I blocked all domestic numbers, but Corey wouldn't quit. Apology texts came pouring in across continents. At first I deleted them individually, until they arrived faster than I could swipe them away. Eventually I just mass-deleted the whole flood.
When texts failed, he bombarded my inbox. Within an hour: 99+ unread emails. The notification badge burned like a warning light behind my eyes. I uninstalled the app entirely—digital scorched earth.
Back home, Corey watched his messages vanish into the void. His secretary stood dripping sweat in the office, clutching contracts. "Sir, the online backlash is spiraling. Multiple partners are terminating deals. At this rate—"
"Where is she?" Corey snapped.
The secretary blinked. "Who—?"
"The person I told you to find!"
"I've turned this city inside out—hotels, transit hubs, everywhere—but with the company collapsing, I couldn't—"
Corey grabbed his keys mid-sentence. At the police station, officers scrolled through systems fruitlessly. "Mr. Gail, our records show Mrs. Zettel's identity was deactivated. Without current documentation..."
Deactivated? That answered it—her brief call that morning. He practically dragged the officer to the records office. Staff scrambled to pull Winona's new identity paperwork.
Jennie's messages piled up unread as Corey paced like a caged animal. When the documents finally surfaced, he photographed them and fired them to his secretary. Ten minutes later: Winona's flight details blinked on his screen.
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