" I'm sorry I couldn't treat you right~ can we make things work again?" He stuttered. It appeared he wanted an answer then and now.
Zaylee looked at him for a while, as if undecided about what to say. It's not like she fell out of love but just the thought of losing to a nobody like Phoneix was something she wouldn't stoop for. Irish must be hers even if they later divorce–she was determined not to give any competitor an inch to maneuver.
She could have both, Zaylee convinced herself. " Let's do that somewhere else, not here and not now," She said. Dave was about to speak when the welcome voices of workers took their attention.
"Welcome, sir... Good day, sir" They noticed Irish trod in as he waved his responses to those who huddled past him at the entrance. Zaylee hurried over to him, halting right in front of him.
" Where have you been?" She briefly asked but Irish just walked past her like a piece of log. His expression was quite unreadable and nonchalant. She scoffed, her lips drawn in a sneer. " Why?...didn't he see me?" she muttered. Dave who noticed decided to give them privacy and trod off.
Unfazed by his coldness, Zaylee made her way toward the elevator where he stood in wait for the carb of the lift. His right fist was buried in his pocket while he stared blankly at the metal door before his eyes.
"~shouldn't you have picked up at least?" She nagged." I asked your secretary and she said you'll be late...what happened?"
" Are you now my bodyguard?~ do I need to report everything to you now?" He asks, lowering his eyes and fixing them on Zaylee who stuttered with no particular words at all.
" ...this is called stalking. Stop stalking me" 
He trolled just when the lift arrived. She became speechless for a moment and just like that, the lift took off after he'd stepped in. 
She giggled sheepishly, " A stalker...?" Zaylee couldn't believe what he had just heard. It sounded like fiction to her. She felt insulted, not in her life had someone ever had the guts to call her names and above all, a stalker. " who do you think you are ~ to what right" She grumbled.
But then, her anger turned on Phoneix, she was the cause of everything. She growled. " No one touches what belongs to me ". Her lips quivered with rage as she stormed off to her office. She had something up her sleeve.
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Irish had barely settled in his seat when the brown envelope on the desk caught his attention. " This must be it" He mumbled. He had asked someone to tail Del and Berla and send updates and photos of their every move. It might one day come in handy when Phoneix decides to strike them back.
Just when he fished out the file, a knock rasped his attention. Irish gazed up at the door with a skeptical look, "Come in" he said, thinking it was Zaylee. She was like his haunting zombie at the moment. 
" Good afternoon, sir" a feminine voice greeted.
" Oh, Rose, it's you," He said his face numb with no sense of interest at all. " Anything I need to attend to or address?"He queried as he settled in.
" The chairman seeks to have an audience with you. Address and time sent to your chat."
" My father?" He frowned with deep concern. With a quick check, Irish scanned his phone but no missed calls or messages. "This is new~ he could have called." Several thoughts raced along paralleled lines.
" What could it be about?" His brows furrowed in thought." Could it be Zaylee's handy work?~ sorry," 
Irish finally snapped out of thought. "... tell him I'll be there at the set time." He addressed and she nodded. " Anything else?"
" Someone dropped this this morning" Rose stated, stretching out a box with no address or note. He scrutinized the object with his eyes before taking it.
" No verbal message too?" She nodded. " Nothing at all...it was delivered in my absence," Rose confirmed.
Irish wasn't expecting any parcel and receiving one without notes or any lead isn't funny if you should ask him. He felt anxious yet composed as he reached for it. " Thank you...you may leave" He addressed and she trod off.
He immediately set aside the envelope he was attending to and slit the box open. Inside, he found a picture and a brief note written in block letters on a sheet of matching blue paper.
" What's this?" he mumbled, picking up the picture which was placed with the back facing up. 
It was a picture of a young lady in her mid-20s ~ lying lifeless in a pool of blood. 
" Givonna...?" the words escaped his lips as the picture fell off his hand. His face flushed, and his eyes were dilated and anxious. He trembled and his feet felt numb. His knees went weak.
 " WHAT HAPPENED TO GIVONNA CELIA PHILPS?– DON'T THINK YOU CAN GET AWAY FROM THIS" the message read.
His face turned pale and he staggered, holding himself up by the table. He felt his energy instantly drawn out. "...who else knows about this?" Irish looked terrified for some reason. In a trance, he staggered out of the door ~the picture and paper clenched in his hand.
 Govinna's death came like a knockout to Irish. He didn't know what happened or how it happened– all he could remember was a knife covered in blood in his hands and Vinna, lying in a pool of blood, lifeless at his LALOLA FLAT. 
After his late girlfriend's death, Irish was thrown into depression. To avoid the saga, Mr. Stanford, his father paid off the police in charge to lay off the case and close off the investigation so  not to affect his company.
" Sir...Sir!!" Rose howled behind him. She felt anxious at the state in which he instantly trod out but Irish just stormed off without turning back. " He doesn't look so well~ what's going on?" She looked concerned.
Zaylee saw him from the window of her office as he hurried out of the company. He had a faraway look in his eyes. " What's going on?~ didn't he just get in?" She said, rushing out after him.
But his pace was so fast that, all she saw was the tail of his car zooming out of the premises. "I...rish" Her voice softened down. It seemed pointless.
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The car drove through the intersection without taking a turn. Irish just drove on with mind at sea. His emotions were running riot and he took deep breaths to calm his racing heart.
 Out of his past, came this like a spectre of vengeance to haunt and destroy him. He felt suffocated and instinctively pulled down his tie. He had no destination in mind. All he needed was to escape the nightmare that had sprouted out of nowhere.