Chapter 312 Denying Sarah's Background
Sarah was itching to get back to Maple Valley and find Madison.
But those pesky reporters would be all over her the second she stepped out.
No way she was getting out of the hotel without a scene, so she had to chill for now.
"Hey, grab me some grub, I'm starving," she ordered.
Lenora Stewart, her assistant, swallowed her frustration and nodded. Just as she reached for the doorknob, a sudden knock made her jump.
Sarah freaked out too and ducked out of sight, telling Lenora to see who it was.
Lenora peeked through the peephole and saw a guy in a security uniform, but she stayed quiet, letting him keep knocking.
Sarah got antsy. "Why aren't you saying anything?"
Lenora didn't have time to stop her.
The guy outside raised his voice. "Ma'am, this is hotel security. We got a noise complaint from downstairs. Can you open the door, please? Thanks."
Even if she wasn't a manager, an assistant to a celeb had to be sharp.
Lenora kept her cool. "Sorry about that. Please tell the guests downstairs we're really sorry. We won't make any more noise."
But the "security guard" wouldn't let up, insisting they open the door.
Lenora called him out, "You must be a reporter. Keep bothering us, and I'll call the cops."
Busted, the guy took off, thinking of another plan.
He had to get to Sarah today; it was his ticket to a promotion and a raise.
First-hand scoop on Madison's daughter was worth big bucks.
Lenora sighed in relief as he left.
But instead of a thank you, Sarah snapped at her, "How did the reporters get up here? Can't you handle anything?"
Sarah was Madison's kid, and everything was handed to her by Madison.
PR, all that stuff, Madison took care of it.
But now, with no way to reach her, what could Lenora do? At least Sarah wasn't exposed to the reporters.
Before Lenora could say anything, her phone buzzed.
Even assistants had their own circles.
Celebs could be totally different behind the scenes, and their assistants, bound by shared experiences, had a chat group to vent about work stress.
Today, though, the chat was all about Sarah, everyone reminding Lenora.
[You still working for Sarah?]
[She's not even Madison's real daughter.]
[She always brags about her mom; turns out she's not even her real kid.]
[Madison's so gorgeous and talented; no way she'd have a dumb daughter.]
Lenora went from shocked to calm.
Sarah yelled, "Didn't you hear me?"
Sarah was kicking herself, thinking she should've used Madison's assistant.
Lenora couldn't do anything right.
Sarah kept going, "If you had just paid attention to the camera last time and not asked me that dumb question, none of this would be happening! I wouldn't be getting roasted online..."
"I'm done! I'm quitting."
"What?" Sarah spat, her anger boiling over. "You begged to be my assistant, and now, when things are tough, you're quitting? This mess is all your fault, you know, because you're totally useless!"
Lenora felt talking to Sarah was pointless. She relied on being Madison's daughter and had zero respect for anyone.
"You should check the news. Do you really think you're Madison's daughter? Idiot!" After cursing, Lenora felt a rush of relief.
She stormed out, leaving Sarah staring at her retreating figure.
"Get back here!" Sarah hissed, but quickly clammed up, remembering the nosy reporters outside. She slammed the door shut.
Lenora's words echoed in her mind as she rummaged for her phone.
The top headline read: [Madison Denies Sarah Is Her Daughter.]
Sarah felt like the floor had dropped out from under her. She fumbled to dial Cecil's number.
The phone rang and rang until a cold, automated voice answered. No one picked up.
Sarah kept calling, over and over.
Each time, it went to voicemail and then hung up.
"Damn it!" she screamed, hurling her phone against the wall. The screen shattered.
Meanwhile, Cecil wasn't ignoring her calls; he just couldn't answer, even though the phone was right in front of him.
Jerry lounged arrogantly on the long sofa, legs crossed, acting like he owned the place.
Cecil sat on a single chair to the side, unbothered, sipping water.
After all his careful planning, holding the best card, he wasn't the one who should be sweating.
He was dead set on getting Hope.
Jerry wasn't rushing either. He poured himself a glass of water.
He resisted the urge to splash it in Cecil's face, instead clinking his glass with Cecil's.
Neither spoke, but the tension was thick.
"Jerry, there's no antidote here," Steven whispered in Jerry's ear.
Steven and his crew had torn the place apart, scanning every nook and cranny, but came up empty.
They'd already searched everywhere Cecil had been, including his office.
A cold glint flashed in Jerry's eyes.
He set his glass down, and Steven noticed a crack appear.
Steven stepped aside, not wanting to get caught in the crossfire.
Jerry's patience was wearing thin, especially with Cecil, who was a constant thorn in his side and had designs on Hope.
Jerry picked up a baseball bat, weighing it in his hand, and slowly stood up.
Cecil didn't flinch, calmly meeting his gaze. "Go ahead, kill me. But you'll never find the antidote. Let me tell you, you think you've delayed the poison, but you haven't. By now, it's almost fully in her bloodstream. It'll activate in less than two days, and Mrs. Harris will die a very painful death."
He continued, "Jerry, don't get too cocky. You don't even know where the poison came from, so how can you have a complete antidote?"
With each word, Jerry's grip on the bat tightened.
The veins on the back of his hand bulged, throbbing with anger.
A chilling smile spread across his face, his voice icy. "What makes you so sure you have the upper hand?"
Jerry suddenly swung the bat. It didn't look like he used much force, but it sliced through the air.
Cecil had no time to dodge.
Jerry didn't aim for a fatal spot, but it was enough to make Cecil writhe in pain.
The bat shattered on impact, splinters embedding in Jerry's palm and drawing blood. He didn't even flinch, just shook his hand casually.
He straightened up, looking down at the curled-up Cecil on the ground, like he was watching an ant struggle.
Jerry snorted, "The antidote is your only leverage over Hope, so of course, it has to be in the safest place."
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