CHAPTER 73: LIGHT GREEN SHIRT

The call ended.

Alaric set the phone down on his desk, his eyes sweeping over the spacious office. The tall glass walls glowed with sunlight, reflecting off the marble floor. But beneath the beauty of the space, he knew a real threat was lurking. One that couldn’t be seen but was definitely out there. Waiting for another chance to strike.

He pressed a small button on the side of his desk. Within seconds, a bodyguard entered. The man was tall, muscular, dressed in a sharp black suit.

"Tighten security," Alaric said without hesitation. "From now on, I want triple the usual measures. Every access point needs to be monitored. No one gets in without being checked."

"Yes, Sir," the bodyguard replied firmly.

Alaric looked at him directly. "That person may try something else. He could disguise himself. I want every staff member’s background re-checked, even the ones who seem harmless."

"We’ve already started, Sir. Some of our men are now inside, posing as regular employees. They’ll stay in constant contact with our outer perimeter guards."

Alaric gave a small nod. "Good."

Once the bodyguard left, Alaric leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. There was a small sense of relief knowing his security had been reinforced.

He smiled faintly. His office was no longer just a place for business. He had turned it into a fortress. Guards stationed at every entrance, undercover operatives blending in with regular staff, and an internal communication system that remained active around the clock. Was no ordinary workplace anymore.

The atmosphere at Alaric’s office that afternoon felt different. The usually quiet entrance was now under tight security. Bodyguards stood not only at the main door but also at every side of the building. Inside, several employees who appeared busy at their desks were, in fact, covert guards. Ready to act at a moment’s notice.

In his office, Alaric sat staring at his computer screen, though his thoughts were elsewhere. He twirled a pen between his fingers, eyes heavy with burden. One attack yesterday was enough to prove that they were willing to strike in broad daylight, in public, with no regard for being caught. That meant someone powerful—or dangerously fearless, was backing them.

Suddenly, a soft knock came at the door. His secretary stepped in with cautious steps. She bowed politely before speaking.

"Mr. Alaric, there’s someone here to see you. He said he had an appointment with you."

Alaric looked up, his gaze briefly locking on hers. "Who is it?" he asked curtly.

"He’s wearing a mask, sir. The bodyguards have stopped him at the entrance. They didn’t want to let him through without clearance, per your standing instructions."

Alaric straightened in his chair, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the desk. "He’s expected. He’s supposed to come today." A faint smile formed, but his eyes remained sharp.

"Very well. Let him in."

She gave a quick nod. "Right away, sir." Then she stepped out briskly.

A few minutes later, another knock echoed on the door. Alaric raised his head and said flatly, "Come in."

The door opened, revealing a man in a black jacket, a mask covering half his face. His movements were cautious, as if aware that every step was being monitored. He gave a slight bow of respect, then approached the desk.

"Sit," Alaric said, motioning to the chair across from him.

The man pulled the chair out and sat down. Silence hung in the air, only the ticking of the wall clock could be heard. Alaric placed the pen down and crossed his arms, his gaze steady and piercing.

"So," Alaric’s voice was calm but carried authority, "what did you find?"

The man pulled a tablet from his bag, powered it on, and showed him a blurry video. "Boss, I traced footage from the CCTV at the restaurant where you dined yesterday. I managed to find something. The attacker who went after you. He met with a woman before carrying out the plan. In this clip, you can see them speaking. It looked like a serious conversation."

Alaric’s eyes narrowed sharply. He leaned forward, his face now closer to the screen. "A woman?" he asked, his voice lower, tinged with intrigue.

"Yes, Boss," the man replied with a nod. "They sat facing each other. The footage is grainy, but their body language clearly suggests an important discussion."

Alaric tapped a finger against the desk, holding back the mix of curiosity and suspicion welling inside. "Were you able to get her face? Any identifying features from the footage?"

The man swallowed, then shook his head. "Unfortunately not, Boss. The resolution was too poor. Too blurry to make out her face. We still don’t know who she is."

Alaric let out a soft breath through his nose, closing his eyes for a moment. He had expected that answer, but hearing it still made his blood simmer. "So, nothing certain yet, huh?"

The informant quickly added, "But... there was one thing, Boss. Her face may not be clear, but one detail stood out in the video."

Alaric’s eyes opened again, locked in. "What is it?" he asked quickly.

"She was wearing a light green blouse, Boss. That part came through pretty clearly in the footage."

For a moment, Alaric didn’t say anything. He picked up the pen again, flicked it into the air, then caught it. His mind moved fast, connecting that small detail to the people he had seen the day before. Light green. A distinct color. Not something you saw too often.

Finally, he leaned back in his chair, his voice calm but resolute. "Alright. You’re dismissed."

The man nodded, but just as he was about to stand, Alaric added, "Keep digging. Keep watching. I want her identified. Whoever she is, I want to know her name... and why she was involved."

"Understood, Boss." The man stood, gave a short bow, then walked out of the room.

Alaric was alone again. He turned his gaze toward the large window that looked out over the city. The pen spun slowly between his fingers. One small detail kept circling his mind, light green blouse.

He remained in his chair. The door had closed tightly behind the man, and silence had returned. His fingers tapped gently on the polished wood surface of his desk, matching the rhythm of his racing thoughts.

"Light green blouse," he murmured under his breath. He repeated it several times, as though speaking the memory aloud would bring it into sharper focus. His hand rose to his chin, rubbing slowly. A habit whenever he was trying to solve something difficult.

His eyes narrowed slightly, brows pulling together. Flashes of memory surged through his mind.

Then suddenly, a clear image appeared, vivid and undeniable. That girl. And more specifically what she was wearing that night. Alaric sat up straight, his heartbeat quickening. "Siera," he whispered, the name escaping like a gust of air.

He grabbed his phone from the desk and unlocked the screen with quick, impatient swipes. His fingers moved straight to the photo gallery. He remembered clearly. Before the attack, he had snapped a photo of himself and Siera at the dinner table. A simple picture, just to let his mother know he wasn’t dining alone.

He scrolled quickly through the images until the one he was looking for appeared. His eyes fixed on the screen. His breathing grew heavier, chest rising and falling.

There was no mistake. In the photo, Siera sat beside him, a faint smile on her face. And what made his blood run cold, she was wearing a light green blouse. The same color. The same style. Exactly like the one mentioned in the report just moments ago.

His hand clenched into a fist on the desk. A sharp ache spread in his chest, a mix of suspicion, denial, and a desperate need not to believe what he was starting to think. "Could it be..." he muttered.

He leaned back in his chair, arms hanging off the metal sides. He rested his face against the armrest, his eyes staring blankly at the floor. Thoughts clashed and twisted inside him. He wasn’t ready to draw conclusions. It could still be coincidence. After all, light green blouses weren’t exactly one of a kind. But the image in his hand was too close to the report. Too specific.

He let out a long, heavy breath. The pressure in his chest didn’t ease. It only tightened. He glanced once more at the photo on the phone screen, eyes locked on Siera’s face. That familiar softness in her smile. But now, doubt clouded that image.

"I need to be sure of something," he said quietly, still half-lost in thought.

He pressed the power button, letting the screen fade to black. His reflection appeared on the dark glass, staring back at him. He rubbed his face roughly, trying to steady himself. He couldn’t afford to make rash moves. If his suspicion was right, then the next steps had to be precise. One wrong move, and everything could collapse.