New beginning: Billionaire love story

He stepped further into the room, his eyes narrowing at Matthew. "What are you doing here, Matthew? Where's Claire?"

Matthew leaned back in his chair, looking far too comfortable for Alex's liking. "I could ask you the same thing," he said with a smirk, clearly enjoying whatever game he thought they were playing.

Alex, however, was not in the mood for games. He stepped inside the office, letting the door close with a soft click behind him, and walked purposefully toward Matthew. "Where is Claire?" he repeated, his voice sharper now.

Matthew didn't even flinch. He just stared up at Alex with a bored expression, as if Alex's presence was the least interesting thing happening in his day. "Why do you want to know?" he asked, his tone just shy of condescending. Alex's frown deepened, annoyance bubbling under the surface. "I need to see her," he said coldly. "I need to talk to her."

"Well, she's not here," Matthew replied with a shrug, as if that was the end of the discussion.

"Where is she?" Alex demanded, his patience wearing thin.

Matthew leaned forward slightly, connecting his fingers on the desk as he stared directly into Alex's eyes. "And what's so important that you need to talk to her? If it's business, you can tell me, and I'll make sure she gets the message."

Alex bristled at the suggestion. "I'm not here to play telephone with you, Matthew. I need to speak to Claire directly. I don't need you to be the owl delivering messages."

Matthew's cool demeanor started to crack as irritation flickered in his eyes. "I'm busy, Alex. If you don't have anything important to say, maybe you should just leave."

Alex scoffed, the sound full of disdain. "You don't like me, do you?"

Matthew raised his eyebrows, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Did you just notice?"

Alex rolled his eyes, clearly done with the back-and-forth. "You can hate me all you want, Matthew. But you don't have the right to decide who can or cannot talk to Claire."

He turned on his heels, his hand reaching for the door handle. But just before he stepped out, he glanced back at Matthew, a slight smirk playing on his lips. "If it weren't for my help, you wouldn't have found Claire in the basement." And with that, he walked out of the office, leaving Matthew fuming in his seat.

Matthew clenched his fists, the irritation coursing through him like wildfire. As much as he hated to admit it, Alex wasn't wrong. When Claire was missing last night, Matthew had been so overwhelmed with panic that he couldn't think straight. He'd needed Alex's help, and that stung him more than he cared to admit. But that didn't change how he felt about Alex getting anywhere near Claire.

Matthew stood up, pacing the length of the office as his frustration simmered. He knew Alex's type all too well charming on the outside, but nothing but trouble beneath the surface. The kind of trouble that would only end up hurting Claire, and Matthew wasn't about to let that happen.

Alex stormed out of the Metacortex building, his mood sourer than a lemon soaked in vinegar. He had come all this way to talk to Claire, only to find out she wasn't even there. To make matters worse, Matthew acting like he has every access into Claire's life and it annoys Alex. He couldn't believe that Claire would put her trust on a guy like him.

With a frustrated huff, Alex yanked open the door to his car and slid into the driver's seat. He let his head fall back against the headrest, staring at the ceiling for a moment as if it held the answers to all his problems. Spoiler alert: it didn't.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, snapping him out of his thoughts. He pulled it out, squinting at the screen. Abigail's name flashed brightly. He sighed, knowing that he probably couldn't ignore her without feeling like a jerk, especially after she'd been working hard on their project.

"Hey, Abigail," he answered, trying to inject some enthusiasm into his voice, though he wasn't sure how successful he was.

"Alex! Hi!" Abigail's voice was chipper as always, like she had a direct line to some endless source of energy. "Just wanted to let you know I've sent over a few sketches of the robot design to your email. Take a look when you get a chance!"All content is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

Alex fished his tablet next to him and quickly opened his email. "Got them," he said, scanning through the designs. They were good, really good, and he had to admit, she'd done an excellent job. "Thanks, Abigail. These look great. You've really outdone yourself."

"Oh, stop it," Abigail giggled, but Alex could tell she was pleased. "So, um... I was wondering if you'd be up to grab dinner tonight? I figured we could talk through any feedback you have on the sketches."

Alex hesitated, glancing at the time.

Part of him wanted to just go home and wallow in his frustration, but the other part the professional part-knew that he should probably take this opportunity to give Abigail some real-time feedback. Plus, she had been working hard, and it was the least he could do.

"Yeah, sure," he finally said, trying to sound more upbeat than he felt. "Dinner sounds good. Let's do it."

An hour later, Alex walked into the restaurant Abigail had picked. It was a cozy, upscale place with dim lighting and soft jazz playing in the background. He spotted Abigail right away, seated at a corner table, waving at him with a bright smile. "Hey, glad you could make it!" she said as he approached.

"Yeah, me too," Alex replied, sliding into the seat across from her. They exchanged a few pleasantries, and the conversation flowed easily enough, but Alex found his mind wandering. He kept thinking about Claire, about Matthew, and about what happened last night. Abigail noticed, of course. She was sharp like that. "You seem a little distracted," she said, tilting her head curiously. "Everything okay?"

Alex blinked, snapping back to the present. "Sorry, just a lot on my mind," he said, forcing a smile. "But really, the sketches are great. I think we're close to nailing the final design."

Abigail nodded, but her eyes searched for his face, clearly not entirely convinced. "Well, if you ever want to talk about it, I'm a pretty good listener."

"Thanks, Abigail. I appreciate that." He meant it, too. Abigail is Alex's childhood friend so he definitely could count on her. However, Alex felt like his problem with Claire was too personal for him to share.

Meanwhile, Lisa was pacing around Gretta's living room like a caged tiger. Gretta, on the other hand, was the picture of calm, lounging on her plush sofa with a glass of wine in hand.

"This plan would have been perfect if that idiot we hired had just done his job!" Lisa fumed, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor. "I mean, seriously, how hard is it to just-"

Gretta cut her off with a sharp look, setting her wine glass down on the coffee table. "Use your brain, Lisa," she said, her voice dripping with disdain. "If that man had killed Claire on the spot, it would have been the end of us. We'd be in jail faster than you could blink." Lisa paused, glaring at Gretta, but she knew the older woman was right. "Fine," she muttered, flopping onto the sofa next to her. "But we can't just sit around and do nothing."

Gretta's eyes narrowed as she

stared out the window, deep in

thought. "I'm not saying we do nothing. But we need to be smarter about this. Claire's not some fool we can just push around. She's calculating, and careful. We need to be two steps ahead if we e want to bring her down."

Lisa leaned back, crossing her arms. "So, what do we do?"