Contract Marriage with My Secret Partner in Crime-Chapter 51: Who Are You?

"It’s nothing... just, he remembered the ginger-soy dip. I once mentioned, when we ate at that seafood restaurant, that it makes the salmon taste less dry. That’s all."

Pia leaned closer, dramatic. "He remembered your sauce preferences? Girl, that’s not ’just a friend.’ That’s a man with an agenda."

Zephany’s face turned a deeper shade of pink. "You watch too many dramas."

"Because they reflect real life! Come on, tell me, who is he? Is he handsome? Does he like cats? Can he cook?"

"Pia!"

Pia grinned, satisfied. "Alright, alright. But seriously, thanks for sharing. This is good stuff. Whoever made this is a keeper."

Zephany nodded, feeling a strange mix of contentment and confusion. She didn’t really know what Kendrick was thinking when he gave her the lunchbox. He was kind, sure, but also hard to read. There was something about him that she couldn’t quite figure out.

She shook the thought away and continued eating.

From across the table, Pia kept sneaking glances at her friend, noting every quiet smile and thoughtful bite.

Something was definitely going on.

And Pia intended to find out what it was.

---

Evening crept in before Zephany realized it. She sat quietly at her desk, her fingers loosely clasped on top of her phone, her lunchboxes empty and neatly stacked to the side. Pia had gone to the editing room, but the newsroom was still buzzing faintly in the background.

She stared at her phone screen, her brows slightly furrowed.

Should she go home?

Home. That word used to mean one place. Now, it meant two.

Her brother Reynold would probably be waiting at the old house. He’d messaged her this morning, reminding her that he was staying in the city for the week. A rare occurrence. She hadn’t seen him in nearly a month. He always said work kept him away, but he never said where or what exactly kept him busy. Not that she questioned him. Much.

She sighed and rubbed her temple. It was getting harder to keep track of her own lies.

She didn’t want to lie, but the truth was messier.

After a long pause, she opened her chat with Kendrick, her thumb hovering over the keyboard.

I’m not going back to the apartment tonight. My brother’s in town, so I’ll be staying at our family home.

Before she could hit send, a new message popped up from Kendrick.

Kendrick: I won’t be coming back to the apartment tonight. I’ll be eating dinner and spending time with my family.

Zephany blinked. Then let out a tiny, breathless laugh.

"Timing," she muttered.

She quickly typed back.

Zephany: Same here. My brother’s around, so I’ll be staying at our house tonight too.

Within seconds, her phone vibrated with an incoming call. She picked up.

"Hey," Kendrick’s voice came through, warm and gentle. "That’s good. It’s nice we both get to spend some time with family. I don’t get to see them often."

His mother was often busy with work, his sister usually stayed in the school dormitory, and he was caught up with his own things too.

"Yeah..." she trailed off, then added softly, "Me neither."

A pause followed. A kind one.

"Well, take care, Zeph. Get home safe," he said.

"You too, Kendrick."

They ended the call, both of them oddly relieved.

Zephany stood up, packed her things into her tote, and made her way out of the newsroom. Pia was at her desk near the exit.

"Hey, I’m heading out," Zephany said.

"Going home?" Pia asked, standing up and grabbing her coat.

Zephany nodded. "Yeah. I’ll pass by the supermarket first, though. It’s nearby."

Pia grinned. "Buy me something sweet!"

Zephany chuckled. "Sure. If they’ve got strawberry milk, I’ll grab one."

Pia gave her a wave. "See you tomorrow, Zeph."

Outside, the air had cooled. The sun had dipped lower, casting long shadows across the street. Zephany zipped up her jacket and began walking toward the small supermarket just a few blocks away. The streets were still lively, with office workers milling about, but something felt... off.

She adjusted the strap on her shoulder and slowed down slightly.

She could feel it.

A pair of eyes.

No—several.

She had felt this before. Many times. The weight of a gaze that lingered too long. The unnatural pause in people’s footsteps. The sound of silence where there should be bustle.

Her instincts prickled.

She didn’t look back. Instead, she crossed the street at a slightly brisker pace, pretending to check her phone.

The supermarket was only a few buildings away now. Just a minute more.

Still, she felt it. A shadow mirrored her every move. And then another.

She turned left down a narrow alley.

Her feet quickened.

So did theirs.

She picked up her pace, glancing ahead to her right. The alleyway split, and she took a sharp turn, ducking under a hanging laundry line and hopping over a broken crate. Her breath steady, not yet panicked.

They followed.

She knew this area. Knew it because she had memorized every exit point on her route to and from work. She’d made sure to keep at least one escape route in every zone she frequented. Habit.

But this alley ended in a dead end. No cameras. No civilians.

She stopped. Waited.

And disappeared.

The five men reached the end of the alley seconds later.

"Where did she go?" one of them hissed.

"She can’t have gone far!" another said.

"Let’s split up—"

"No, wait!" the tallest one snapped. "We were right behind her! She was here!"

The air around them shifted.

A soft laugh floated from above.

"Looking for me?"

All five spun around, startled.

The woman they had followed now stood atop a crate behind them, arms crossed, a cold glint in her eyes. Her soft smile didn’t reach them.

One of the men stepped back. "W-wait..."

Zephany jumped down in a blur, landing with precision.

"What the hell—"

Before he could finish, she struck. In a flash of movement, she disarmed the nearest man, twisted his arm, and swept his feet out from under him. The others lunged—though it was actually to stop her.

But she was faster.

Elbow. Knee. Sweep. A hard blow to the chest.

In under thirty seconds, all five were on the ground, groaning in pain, clutching various parts of their bodies.

They stared at her. It was her, but not the weak girl they’d been tailing. This wasn’t the clumsy, soft-spoken journalist.

This was someone else entirely.

One of them gasped, "You... who are you?"

Zephany walked toward them slowly, crouching beside the last man who tried to crawl away.

"I should be asking you that." Her voice was low, devoid of emotion. "Why were you following me?"