A.N. Some themes in this chapter may be deemed sensitive for others.

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MARINETTE

Alya pushes a piece of packed bread at me and it falls, landing on my lap.

I could only look at it without finding the strength to pick it up.

"Eat," she merely commands me, keeping her eyes on the road.

She insisted to drive my car from landing in the airport. I haven't been myself ever since that night and she thinks that if I take the wheel, I'll get us into an accident.

I slowly take it and painstakingly rip the plastic open before taking a small bite from the bread.

The morning after I tested Byvael, causing him and Sir Nordic to storm out of the function hall, I was given a three-day suspension to reflect on my actions. Sir Nordic was very mad but he did his best to not let his emotions get to the best of him. He still stayed stern as he gave me that punishment and I could not look at him in the eye. He was like Papa who used to scold me when I did something mischievous in the bakery back when I was still a child, only this time I am not a child - I am a grown-ass adult!

Now I realize that it was such an embarrassing thing for me to do...but I at that moment I only felt immense distaste and hate towards Byvael who sat across from me. To have a man I hate sit close enough to me made my blood boil; I couldn't stop myself from testing him.

If what I was told was true, then I wanted to make sure that it really is.

"Take another bite, now." Alya's voice snaps me out of my thoughts that were trailing through my mind.

I blink and look down to see that I've been squeezing the piece of bread in my hand. Its shape has been deformed, making me recall the croissants Maman baked for Adrien that unfortunate day of the earthquake. I never got to give them to him and I did not get to enjoy them as much as I would if they were freshly-baked. Yes, I ate all of them in one sitting since I did not want any of the croissants to go to waste...and I was also crying over Adrien.

"Hey," Alya utters, snapping her fingers in front of me, still keeping her left hand on the steering wheel. "You spaced out again. Snap out of it or else I'll take you to the hospital to let you get nutrients through an IV drip."

"Tough love, much," I mutter under my breath, finally brought back to reality. I take another bite from the bread and fix the plastic around it since I'm feeling a bit full already. I adjust my position on the front seat and prop an elbow on the window ledge to rest my head on my hand. I make myself busy by looking at the view changing with the amount of buildings increasing as Alya drives. It's an indication that we are nearing the city.

"I won't write about what happened during that dinner," she tells me.

"Great," I mutter, unbothered.

She adds, "I'll just mention more on Nordic's visit to the people there and his talks on the Education First Policy. Writing about that dinner would only add more fuel to the fire and I find it unnecessary."

I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. "I know you wouldn't write about that...I'm more worried on Byvael's side," I admit. "The public is in favor of Byvael more, meaning that they will trust him even if he spits out the wrong things. Nordic is merely a sympathizer here...Byvael is deemed the activist."

"I don't think they'll write about it."

I scoff, "I know that they will. I bet they can even twist the story more to their side and the people would still believe them." Grimacing, I murmur in defeat, "Nordic is losing his influential voters by the minute. If they want to keep their reputation, I'm sure that they will publish thousands of articles about it."

"And I'll repeat myself, I don't think they'll write about it."

I furrow my brows and open my eyes to look at her in disbelief. I sit up and throw an arm in the air. "Why are you so adamant in saying that they won't write about it? If I were them, I would definitely use that to my advantage."

For a second, she lets go of her sight on the road to throw me a knowing look and faces front again with a small grin on her face. "Because Adrien wouldn't allow it," she says, finally.

I almost instantly cry upon hearing his name, instead I click my tongue and cross my arms in front of me, defensively. "I doubt that." Even hearing his name makes my chest start to ache in pain again. Memories of our fight and tears in my hotel room flood my mind and I have to swallow down a sob building up in my throat. I look back out the window and slowly bring a hand to my eye to wipe away a bit of the tears welling up.

"I'll go against your doubt," Alya continues, "I know he'll not allow it."

"We are back to meaning nothing to each other," I utter even if I know that there is a lie behind that statement. I don't even acknowledge it one bit.

"Ah, so you two really did break up."

"Break up?" I scoff, "We were never even together in the first place."

So, why am I acting this way? We were never together; I shouldn't be acting bitter like how I'm feeling now.

"I don't even know why I'm so affected," I continue, huffing under my breath. "I mean, okay, I told him about how I felt about us. We even cried about it..." I trail off.

Glancing at the side mirror then back at the front, Alya asks, "And what did he say about those feelings?"

I try to hide my frown and hesitantly whisper, "He said that we can't...we can't be..." I stop myself and open the plastic of my unfinished bread to go back to eating it.

Alya only hums in reply. "I see," she says after then goes surprisingly quiet.

I throw her a sigh in disbelief. "You won't give your comment about it? I honestly need you help, Alya. Am I at fault here? Am I selfish or is it he?"

She shrugs her shoulders nonchalantly. "I understand how you're feeling now especially since he's the first guy you've fallen for. And it's about time you've fallen for him," she mutters the last part under her breath yet I still hear it clearly.

"Hey!"

"Where's the lie?" She counters, "Your lives revolved around each other and when we would talk, you would mention him and things you both did. Now that that has stopped, you clearly have not been functioning well."

"...really?"

"Heck yes, girl. You care so much about him, we both are aware about that. But I hope you also realize that he cares about you, too. That may be why he says you can't be together."

"I...I can't really follow."

We come to a stop as the red light is still lit on our side of the road. Alya lets go of the steering wheel and turns her body a bit to face me.

"Place yourself in his shoes," she starts, "Don't only think about what he feels for you but think about his job, especially his boss."

"Aaron Byvael," I murmur. "I'm aware that you know more about him, by the fact that you are neutral in this campaign; you see things without a bias."

There is not much that I know about Byvael. Aside from him being a single man with a temper (referring to how he treated Adrien during the night of the president's birthday party), the rest that I know about him would be stories or anecdotes from other people. And...

I hide my growing discomfort recalling, once again, the call from that woman days ago. In the end, it was only I who heard what she had to say since she asked for absolute privacy. To respect her wishes, I left Alya in the living room and went to the room to continue talking to her.

It was from her that I heard unaccountable and peculiar things about Byvael and most importantly, the people who were with him as he started out in politics.

The life of a politician, whether well-known or not, is a tiring and manipulative life. And once one enters it, one can never get out; I see that now and regret is not the only thing I'm feeling from choosing such a life.

It was through this world that I got close to Adrien and why I eventually developed feelings for him.

In this desolate and superficial world where influence could lead to exploitation, perhaps he is my silver lining; the light at the end of a dark tunnel. I just wish he sees me as the same, too.

The traffic light turns green and Alya is back to focusing her sight on the road. "Aaron Byvael is an impulsive man," she tells me, carefully changing lanes as we head to the exit of the highway. "He's used to getting the things he wants."

"We all know tha-"

"Even," she interrupts, "if he has to throw most of the dirty work on his employees. And there has been talk of how he does not show that much concern for them, but of course, those are merely rumors unless he admits to them."

I confess in a voice above a whisper, "Adrien admitted that he's scared to be with me...could it be because of Byvael?"

"Remember, he is not his own boss," she points out. "He's not only scared to be with you. I think he's mainly scared of what Byvael could do to you."

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It's my first time to be here.

The Quartier Pigalle; the red light district.

I've only passed by this area during the daytime in a car. It's peaceful, not crowded, and it looks like a normal area of small businesses.

Now that I am here at night and knowing that I need to enter one of its buildings, it is a whole different story.

Endless people talking boisterously in hopes of scamming money out of me, unrestrained drunkards who look like they are having the time of their lives without even thinking of the people around them. If a tourist seeks for sensual excitement here, it's honestly a scam and they'll just get robbed off more than what they hope to receive in return.

That's why I need to be careful. The woman who called me days ago wanted to meet me in person here, saying that it is the place where people won't be suspicious of me - I will only look like a regular passer-by or a customer. I also knew that I had to dress the part, so now I am wearing clothes that won't make me stand out too much but at the same time are deemed fitting to enter a club and act like a normal customer. I also made sure to only bring my cellphone and enough money so that I have lesser chances of being robbed.

I fix the hair of the wig I'm wearing and make the ends fall behind my back. The feeling of my fake eye contacts is starting to annoy the heck out of me but I know that I have no choice. I even made an effort to doll myself with placing more make-up than the usual. As much as possible, I do not want to be recognized by people who might know me.

"Hey, sweet cheeks-"

"Not tonight, boys," I immediately counter and even fake a flying kiss at the group of intoxicated men who catcalled me. I almost gag at the sight of them but I conditioned and prepared myself to act differently in a situation like this. "Next time works for me."

I could just throw up what I ate for dinner at them and I wouldn't feel any remorse with doing that.

Remember, Marinette, you are doing this mainly to take down a man like Byvael.

I breathe deeply, trying to calm my nerves as I finally find the club where I am supposed to meet the woman I talked to on the phone.

Des Roses.

A very simple and innocent name, but what happens inside is the complete opposite of it.

Loud electric dance music almost deafens my hearing to the point that I can't even hear my own thoughts anymore. Bodies of different people are pressed together as they dance and take up most of the space. I have to push through them and take care of my belongings as I immediately head to the side, the exact place where the woman instructed me to go.

Drinking, dancing, kissing, shouting, shoving - a lot of things were happening at once and it leaves another reminder for myself that this is not for me. The only time I enjoyed something like this was when I was with Adrien, but this place is beyond crazy and hectic.

The woman also told me on the phone that she would be wearing a particular set of clothes so that I could spot her easily but she also told me a code to memorize, just in case.

"How do I get to be in heaven and hell at the same time?"

If I can't spot her physically, then I would have to ask people around me that question.

Some answers would be exhilarating risk-taking behaviors involving drugs, sex, and alcohol to name a few. But the answer I need to look out for is something else.

There are some women standing by a tall table with different drinks in their hands. I do not waste any more time as I head to their direction and just ask them straightforward but with a hint of a drunken tone to my voice.

I brush my hair to the back and stand in front of them, asking, "How do I get to be in heaven and hell at the same time?"

Some look surprised or unbothered with my sudden question but they do not hesitate to answer:

"I got a dealer if you want."
"For sure, alcohol, I have some I can give you."
"A hot man with a huge blessing."

Okay, definitely not any of them. I turn them all down and saunter off to another table.

Some people try to hit on me as I walk by them. I pull off a flirtatious front and 'sweetly' turn them down even if I am growing completely uncomfortable in this crowd.

One thing I miss about Adrien is the fact that he would never treat me like this.

He is a man that's too good for me, for this world. He is a man that should have never worked under Aaron Byvael and it still brings me guilt knowing that it's my fault why the arrangement is like this now.

I see a woman sitting alone at the side, enjoying her cocktail drink. A man goes to her but she only flashes a sultry smile at him before shooing him away.

I take a deep breath and go to her, despite this massive intimidating aura radiating off of her. I fake how I'm just passing by her but stop right at her table to fix my right heel.

"Damn it," I curse and groan, pretending how the strap of my heel is loose. "How do I ever get to be in heaven and hell at the same time," I mutter in annoyance, making sure that it was clearly said just in case she hears it. It was such a lame attempt, but I'm becoming desperate here.

She chuckles ruefully and sets her glass on the table before looking at my hand fumbling about with the strap on my right heel. "Commit mass murder of the most evil people in this world," she says suddenly, making my heart beat faster. That's the answer the woman told me over the phone to watch out for. "Let heaven and hell fight for where you truly belong," she continues then pulls out a cigarette and lights it. "Nice get up."

I look at her with wide eyes then take the seat across from hers. "I followed your instructions," I tell her. She is how I imagined her to look like and the way she carries herself shows how much experience she has. And there is no particular experience, it looks like she has gone through most aspects of life.

"It's about time you got here," she utters, blowing off smoke from her mouth. "You won't mind my smoking, right?" She asks and taps her cigarette on the ashtray twice. "I can always stop. I just need it to calm myself."

I wave a hand at her in dismissal. "You can continue. Just don't blow the smoke right at my face."

Smirking at me, she says, "A woman of compromise, I see."

"I confronted the man in the candidate visit," I state sternly, not choosing to mention Byvael's name out in the open. Her eyes go wide and her smirk changes to a scowl as she almost drops her cigarette.

"A woman of stupid actions, as well. Why did you do that?"

"I-I wanted to rile him up-"

"Rile him up," she interjects, "when you have gathered more than enough evidence to to against him." She throws me a look of disappointment. "We only had a 20-minute phone call before this meeting. You do not even know most of what I am about to tell you."

I start off, confidently, "I'm sure about the women-"

"And men, too," she immediately adds, making me grow cold.

I pinch my brows together, losing every bit of confidence in me, and spit out, "What? Men? What do you mean?"

She slides her unfinished cocktail drink at me and carefully looks around before holding her chin high. "Take a drink. You're gaining attention by not acting like everyone else here," she utters before smoking her cigarette, blowing the smoke from her mouth towards the side.

She starts as I follow her and take a sip from her bitter cocktail, "Three years ago, I worked for that man. He was still a senator that time, but people showed how much they wanted him as the next president; he was getting all the more popular." She quirks an eyebrow, stating her point. "Parties in his favor were thrown almost every day. Being one of his staff members, I had to be there. I accidentally witnessed something at one of those parties..." she trails off and suddenly starts to look nervous, looking down at the table as she taps her cigarette on the ashtray again.

I lean forward, holding the glass in one hand. "What did you see?" I carefully ask, genuinely curious.

She slowly reaches into her bosom, barely covered by her low-neckline dress, and pulls out something before handing it to me in a flash. It's a small folded piece of paper and I fix it, unfolding it just enough for me to see what is written on it. I see a familiar bank logo and a new name I've never encountered before.

It's a cheque and the amount of money written on it makes me gasp in shock.

"That is hush money," the woman tells me, seeing how I am gaping at it then I fold it back to how I first got it.

"It's...six digits," I mutter.

"What?" the woman asks loudly, the volume of the music in the club going higher as more people arrive and start dancing in the middle.

"It's six digits," I repeat, raising my voice. "And it's from a different name."

"That man uses that name when he has something to hide."

"Like what?" I breathe out.

The woman crushes her cigarette on the ashtray and lets out an unsteady exhale before leaning close to me. "Underground procurement rings," she states, spitting out the words in disgust. "That money was given to keep me quiet over the fact that he supports those rings. I never had it cashed in."

I grow silent, not finding the strength to even utter a simple word. The sudden revelation is like a blow to my gut. Forced prostitution, the mere thought makes me shiver and quake in fear and discomfort.

"One may sell their body, it's legal here," she continues, "But when a third party is involved - soliciting, pimping, procuring - that is when it becomes illegal."

Still choosing to stay quiet, I clasp a hand over my mouth, starting to feel sick to the stomach.

"Women and men...all being sold to those people in power - he supports those."

So, this is what she meant by Aaron Byvael being involved with a lot of women. I expected something grand...but not this, certainly not this. I raise my other hand at her. "Stop, please," I plead, "I can't...I..."

"I fled the country after receiving the cheque because I knew that he would still want me dead," the woman presses on.

"Yet you're here-"

She seethes out, "Because the moment I found out he was running for president, I knew that I should not care about my life anymore. I would rather get killed than see him as president."

Even the feeling of the folded cheque in my hand brings a certain kind of sensation that I cannot fathom. Holding it makes me feel like I am part of the dirty business, the dirty plans, the dirty acts, the dirty money - I cannot handle it.

Aaron Byvael is a supporter of procurers.

That man is truly evil and dirty.

Adrien suddenly crosses my mind and my heart drops to my stomach.

Does he know about this?

Adrien has been so respectful towards me and he never treated me in a way that would make me shameful of myself and my body. He is such a gentle person and I know he hates making another person feel uncomfortable. Does he know about the other life of his boss?
 
"Do his employees know about this?" I ask in haste.

The woman shakes her head. "I doubt it," she simply replies. "That man knows that it could jeopardize his campaign."

Remember, he is not his own boss.

I recall Alya's words from this morning and my chest aches all the more, my heart hammering against it erratically. Will Adrien ever know about this? Should I tell him? Confront him about it?

"In three days," the woman continues, unware of my growing discomfort with the running multitude of my bothered thoughts all leading to Adrien, "that man will be holding a meeting with his partners in such rings. He hires a special group of bargirls to tend to those meetings. I will find a way to let you be part of them so that you could cover important information you need to bring him down."

My brows furrow together. "Y-You want me to go there, undercover?" I stammer, shocked with this sudden turn of events.

She nods with conviction. "We will prepare the best disguise for you and I will train you for the time being. For these next days, we will meet here at the same time and I will give you as much information I can get of him."

"I...I don't think-"

"Don't think that way," she stops me, reaching out to grab a trembling hand of mine. "I will prepare you and we will make sure that he will not end triumphant. You have to do it for the sake of our country and its people. I beg of you."

I peer into her eyes, filled with burning passion to bring this evil man down and strip him away from his power. I force myself to swallow whatever dread, doubt and nervousness I have in me and nod back at her. "I'll do my best," I say in all seriousness. 

"I knew I chose the right person," she utters, a smirk forming on her face. "Starting tonight, I place all my trust on you."

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