Trapped in the boss's embrace (by Katrina A) novel Chapter 125

Chapter 125 Is It Really a Cat?

Damian leaned against the gnarled oak in the farmyard's shadows, the recording from Ethan humming through his earpiece.

As the final sob crackled into silence, his thumb brushed the phone screen—deliberate, like a judge sealing a verdict.

[She's lying.] His text to Ethan carried the weight of a blade unsheathed. [Stay sharp.]

The reply was instant: [OK.]

Ethan stared at the message, his grip tightening on the phone.

Every tremor in Nico's voice felt real, every tear genuine.

How could Mr. Crowley hear lies when I saw only raw pain?

Or is he just paranoid?

*****

Beatrice softened her voice. "Nico, are you from Solhaven originally?"

"Yeah." Nico nodded, though confusion flickered across her face at the odd question.

Reaching into her bag, Beatrice pulled out a notebook—its pages filled with Madeline's drunken ramblings.

She handed it over. "Take a look. Does any of this sound familiar? Maybe somewhere the girl who hurt you mentioned?"

Nico's fingers tightened around the notebook as she scanned the words.

At first, her expression was pure bewilderment. Then, slowly, understanding seeped in like poison—her eyes darkening, shoulders sagging under the weight of memory. But she held herself together this time, even as tears threatened again.

"It... it does sound like the rural areas here," she admitted, voice thick.

"Could it be in the mountains?" Violet cut in.

"Definitely not the mountains. It's the countryside." Nico was adamant. After a moment of thought, she looked up and suggested, "Let me take you to my uncle's place. They've lived in the countryside all their lives and might know about this place. Even if they don't, we can always ask the neighboring villagers."

Beatrice and Violet exchanged a glance before agreeing.

As Nico left to change, Ethan excused himself to the restroom.

Theodore, meanwhile, gagged dramatically and bolted outside.

Violet chased after him, laughing. "You're heaving like a morning-sick pregnant lady! Meanwhile, Ethan's cool as a cucumber."

Beatrice's gaze snapped toward the source of the worst stench—no wonder Theodore had felt sick. The spot where he and Ethan had stood earlier reeked the strongest.

She moved closer, steps light, the rotting smell thickening with each stride until she reached the last room, the epicenter of the foul odor.

Gritting her teeth against the nausea, she reached for the doorknob—only for a hand to slam the door shut behind her.

Beatrice whirled around to find Ethan. "Don't look. It's bad," he warned.

"You've seen it?" Her voice dropped low.

Ethan guided her away with an arm around her shoulder. "A cat," he murmured. "Been dead a while. In this heat? No surprise it reeks."

Beatrice shot him a skeptical look.

Really? Just a cat?

Ethan smirked. "What, disappointed it's not a corpse?"

She glared.

Nonsense! 

She wasn't disappointed—just worried he'd sugarcoat the truth to spare her.

If he lied, it'd skew her judgment about Nico.

Ethan sobered. "Swear it's just a cat. No bullshit."

After lingering in the living room, Nico finally emerged, now in a white dress, her face hidden beneath a hat and mask. "Let's go," she said flatly.

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