"What are you waiting for?" Lionel asked, noticing his assistant''s hesitation.


    Owen''s grip on the file tightened. "Nothing, sir. I''ll get right on it."


    He hurried out of the office and onto the balcony, checking to make sure he was alone before pulling out his phone and calling Sandra.


    He had seen the man in the photo before. One time, when he had gone to see Sandra, the two of them had been in a hushed conversation. The man had left abruptly the moment he saw Owen. He hadn''t asked what they were talking about then, but their serious expressions suggested it was something important.


    Now, it seemed they had been plotting against Hannah.


    Ms. Woods... how could she do something like this?


    "Mr. Owen, what a surprise. Is something wrong?" Sandra''s voice was tinged with anxiety. She had just seen the news herself.


    "Ms. Woods, did you see the news?" Owen asked in a low voice. "What is your rtionship with the man in the report? Mr. Rosenberg has asked me to investigate who was behind this."


    A wave of panic washed over her. "Why are you asking me? How would I know someone like that?"


    She bit her lip, remembering Owen''s visit. It had been a brief encounter, months ago. Surely he wouldn''t remember? Her hand, clenched into a fist, grew slick with sweat. But it shouldn''t matter even if he did. Owen was on her side. Besides, she had chosen a location without any cameras. They couldn''t trace it back to her.


    "I must have been mistaken then. A lot of people look alike," Owen said, quicker to doubt himself than to suspect her. "If youe across any leads, Ms. Woods, please let me know."


    "Of course."


    She hung up and stared at the man''s picture on the news site. She had assumed Quennel would bury the story, not broadcast it for the world to see. He wasn''t just clearing Hannah''s name; he was sending her a message.


    That man was truly terrifying.


    "It''s good that you had nothing to do with it, Ms. Woods," Owen had continued before hanging up. "Mr. Rosenberg has been very attentive to Hamantely fle didn''t even press the issue of her selling the ne; he just bought it back. I don''t think they''ll be getting a divorce after all."


    Owen''s voice had beenced with resentment. He had been so sure Lionel would divorce Hannah and marry Sandra. If that didn''t happen, what had all his own efforts Deen for?


    A sweetugh had tinkled from Sandra''s end. "It''s for the best if they don''t divorce. I''ve always said it''s better to mend a marriage than to breakone. tied to reason with him, but he was so angry and convinced she had something to do with my brother''s incident. There was no changing his mind."


    Owen, hearing this, had let the matter drop.


    Sandra put down her phone, then picked it up again and called Quennel.


    "Mr. Rosenberg, I was wrongst night. I''d like to apologize. I was wondering if you might be free for dinner tonight?" she asked, her voice soft and submissive.


    "I''m not."


    The rejection from the other end was cold and final.


    Sandra''s face fell. Just as she was about to press further, he added, "I''m having dinner with Hannah tonight."


    Hannah!


    It was always that bitch! Always her!


    A furious fire ignited in her chest, but she dared not let it show. She forced a smile


    into her voice, said she wouldn''t disturb him, and ended the call.