As Nicole chased after Jarrod to the door, his silver sports car, with Vicki already seated inside, had started up. “Jarrod!” Nicole shouted.
The silver sports car sped off without pausing, leaving a trail of arrogant smoke.
Nicole clenched her fists. He had definitely seen her. Yet, he drove off, his face smug as if he had already triumphed.
This deepened Nicole’s worries, fearing Jarrod might harm Roscoe. Her hands shook so violently that driving was impossible. She hastily flagged down a taxi and rushed to Roscoe’s workplace.
In the taxi, Nicole replayed the day’s events over in her mind.
She figured the Hampton family would have harbored resentment for Jarrod and wouldn’t lend a helping hand to him because of the humiliation caused by Jarrod and his harsh ways of dealing with the relatives of the Hampton family. Coupled with the blow Lowe’s disdainful behaviors had brought, she guessed the Hampton family would defend themselves at all cost, turning a cold shoulder to Jarrod’s dilemma.
Nicole had guessed correctly on all counts except for Vicki. Vicki was fond of Jarrod and might seek her family’s assistance for Jarrod’s pickle. Jarrod’s brief exchange with Vicki previously had confirmed her suspicions.
Jarrod was exceptionally vindictive, and Nicole was sure he had already figured out how to deal with her.
She knew what was on his mind. It felt like a sinister game of cat and mouse, where Jarrod enjoyed
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prolonging the chase before striking a devastating blow. However, he would not show the same patience toward Roscoe.
Plus, Roscoe’s decision to turn against the Watts family and present that evidence would spell disaster for him.
As Nicole watched the Landscape recede through the car window, she made a firm decision. She had to protect Roscoe. He was such a kind soul who had greatly supported her. If anything happened to him because of her, she would never forgive herself.
The taxi finally pulled up in front of the building where Roscoe worked.
Nicole stepped out of the taxi and headed for the entrance but the receptionist blocked her path. “Miss, I’m sorry, do you have an appointment?”
“No, I’m looking for…” Nicole paused, struggling with the formality.
“Mr. Watts.”
“I’m sorry, he didn’t come to the office today,” the receptionist informed her.
Nicole felt a knot form in her stomach and asked urgently, “What about yesterday? Did he come here then? When did he leave?”
“I’m sorry. I can’t disclose his whereabouts,” the receptionist replied, shaking her head.
Nicole recalled her phone conversation with Roscoe from the previous day. He had told her he was still at work and hadn’t left for home yet. If he hadn’t returned home last night, then surely something must have gone wrong.
The more Nicole pondered, the more her fear grew, causing cold sweat to bead on her forehead.
After finishing a phone call, the receptionist noticed Nicole frozen in place and asked, “Miss, may I have your name? I need to register it.”
“Nicole Lawrence.”
“Miss Lawrence, correct?” The receptionist’s voice lifted slightly in inquiry.
“Yes,” Nicole responded, oblivious to the receptionist’s look of surprise.