Chapter 2 Gerald Zeroun

Gerald stared at his assistant with a sharp gaze. "Repeat what you just said?" he asked sharply. The middle-aged man who had worked for him since he was a baby looked back at him and replied in his usual flat tone. "Your fiancée has disappeared," he repeated. "Disappeared?" Gerald repeated the word. The older man nodded. "Disappeared, you say? How is that possible?" he asked in a raised voice. The middle-aged man didn't flinch at all, even though Gerald was being rough with him. "One of the servants we pay contacted me, Sir. Your fiancée, Karenina, was declared missing just before dinner. Right now, everyone is searching for her. Quietly," he emphasized at the end of the sentence. The servant knew very well that his employer despised any commotion. "How dare she!" Gerald seethed. His hand clenched tightly. "Prepare the car! We're going there right now. I need to confirm it myself." He gave the order brusquely. The middle-aged man bowed and left. "Oliver Brooks. How dare you embarrass me like this," he muttered sharply. They had arrived at the Brooks family's house. Silence greeted Gerald and his assistant as they entered the luxurious three-story mansion. "M-Mr. Gerald," a stutter escaped from the lady of the house's mouth. Her beautiful face, which usually exuded grace and arrogance, now appeared pale. She forced a smile that made Gerald nauseous.

"Good evening, Mrs. Brooks," Gerald greeted with an extraordinary display of politeness. Gerald could see the woman squeezing her hands and swallowing nervously.

"Go-good evening," she still stammered. The older woman swallowed her saliva again before continuing. "Mr. Gerald, what are you doing here? How can the groom come to the bride's place? Have you forgotten that you two are in seclusion right now? You're not supposed to meet." She spoke at an incredible speed, clearly struggling to hide her nervousness. "Yes, I am indeed the groom, Mrs. Brooks. But I've just heard the unfortunate news that my bride-to-be has disappeared."

"Huh?" Her false-eyelashed eyes widened. "Th-that's not true," she replied. The woman turned to her husband, who was sitting in a chair, massaging his temples. He seemed uninterested in responding or defending his wife.

"I hope this news hasn't reached my grandmother yet, Mrs. Brooks. Because I don't know what she'll say when she finds out her future granddaughter-in-law has disappeared just a day before the wedding." Gerald walked over to an empty single sofa. He sat down on the expensive leather sofa as if he were the owner of the house. His hand reached for an empty glass on the table and poured ice into it before pouring the amber liquid on top.

With casualness, Gerald swirled his glass. The clinking of the ice against the glass filled the silence. Slowly, Gerald sipped his whiskey, feeling the warmth spreading down his throat.

This marriage was an arranged one made by his mother and Mr. Brooks' wife. His grandmother had never approved of it, but there was a reason why she had reluctantly accepted the plan. A reason that couldn't be revealed to the public, not until after the wedding.

Mrs. Brooks hurriedly walked over to another sofa near Gerald. Her hand gripped the sofa's armrest tightly. Gerald could even see her red-knuckled fingers turning white from the strength of her grip. "N-no. Please don't say anything to Mrs. Zeroun," she pleaded hesitantly. "Karenina isn't missing. Maybe she's just taking a break because she's been confined to the house for a week now. She'll be back. I promise." Once again, Mrs. Brooks looked at him with a pleading expression.

Gerald leaned back casually, placing his right hand, which held the glass, on the sofa's arm before crossing his right leg over his left. He swirled his whiskey glass and took another sip. "Is that so, Mr. Brooks?" Gerald looked at the lady's husband with a flat yet intimidating gaze. The old man sitting across from him seemed to straighten his posture. "Well, well, well, Mrs. Brooks, why am I not getting a definite answer?"

Caitlyn Brooks now tried to hold onto Gerald's knee. Instantly, Gerald moved his leg to indicate she should stay away. The elderly woman murmured apologies. "No. Really. I can assure you that tomorrow's event will proceed as planned. Karenina will come back. Tomorrow she will be your companion at the wedding," she replied confidently.

Gerald raised an eyebrow. "What if she doesn't?"

"There's no 'what if.' I assure you she'll be there," Mrs. Brooks replied firmly.

Gerald smirked. "Very well, Mrs. Brooks. I'll leave it all to you. But if she doesn't return, then you understand the consequences, don't you?" Gerald's question this time genuinely frightened the woman. The lady of the house glanced at her husband, seeking assistance, but received no support whatsoever. "The financial injection from our family will be canceled," Gerald calmly stated.

"I'm not making empty threats, Mr. Oliver Brooks. You know how I operate. And this 'business' idea was your wife's suggestion. So, if you disgrace my family and tarnish the Zeroun name, then I won't hesitate to carry out my threats." Gerald sipped the remainder of his whiskey, then stood up. At the same time, a shout was heard.

"Mommy, that's Karen!" The voice of a young boy whom Gerald hadn't noticed earlier pointed towards the entrance. Gerald saw a beautiful girl with a familiar face standing there with an arrogant demeanor. Her gaze was directed at the shouting boy. There was no smile on her face, unlike the usual Karenina. There was no friendliness at all. Similar face, similar body shape, but so different. Very different. Gerald thought to himself. Even her clothing style was clearly very different. The Karenina Gerald knew often wore dresses and only occasionally wore pants. But the Karenina before him now looked comfortable in tight-fitting long jeans that hugged her slender legs and hips.

Her sheer white blouse matched the tank top underneath. Trust me, it made people want to explore what lay beneath those clothes.

And her hair, Gerald furrowed his brow. The last time he saw Karenina, her hair reached her waist and was dyed brown. The girl in front of him had shiny black hair that was slightly shorter than Karenina's. Who was she?

"Sorry, I'm not Karenina," as if hearing the question in Gerald's mind, the girl spoke up. Even her voice sounded very much the same. It was just her intonation that was different.

Karenina's voice was usually soft and friendly. This girl in front of him came across as cynical. "I've come to see Mrs. Caitlyn," she said in a flat tone. Her head now turned to look around until it settled on one figure, the lady of the house.