Unspoken Truths

The sea breeze, mixed with the piercing cold of winter, carried a salty dampness into the air.

Standing by the black-gray Bentley, Secretary Helen watched Kingsly from a distance—he stood at the sea's edge, where the waves crashed not far from him.

The vast, empty shore held only him.

The sky was dark and heavy as if rain threatened to fall.

That endless, gloomy sky stretched over his tall, handsome figure, casting a cold, desolate aura.

His gaze was fixed on the boundless ocean, his thoughts locked within his furrowed brow.

Helen's phone rang, a call from the Jakarta team. Watching his boss, he calmly said, "Yes, you're in charge of the negotiations with LIO. Also, Mrs. Scott should be arranged to return to the U.S. The boss... won't be going back for now."

The rain seemed imminent again, and the weather shifted as unpredictably as someone's mood—gentle one moment, cold and distant the next.