The four friends hurried out of Lance's apartment, determination and apprehension on their faces. As they approached Kimberly's house, they spotted a sleek black car parked outside. Standing next to it was Agatha, Edwin's father's assistant, flanked by two imposing men in black suits.
Agatha, a woman in her late thirties, exuded an air of authority. Her ash-blonde hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and her steel-gray eyes were sharp behind her rimless glasses. She wore a crisp white blouse under a tailored charcoal blazer, paired with a matching pencil skirt. Her black stilettos clicked against the pavement as she stepped forward, her expression painted with relief and irritation.
As Agatha approached the group, her eyes swept over them, landing on Lance. For a brief moment, her prof
