The Matchmaker

Chapter 39

It took almost three weeks to assemble costumes, meet the counsellor, and collect enough information on Randy and his wife.

Ms. Musa was as good as her word, determined to help the son of her best friend and provided us with all the necessary resources - she'd make sure everything we did remained under the bridge, hidden from plain sight and from any accusations coming our way.

In the meantime, I had cleared as much room as possible from matchmaking requests. Working around the clock, Celia and I managed to complete and fast-track several cases to give us time to focus on Randy.

Matching an heiress. Check. Finding a match for a well known music producer and film star. Check. Creating a file on a business tycoon. Check.

Somehow, we managed to tick off more cases and requests than we had months prior. But we paid a heavy price for it with sleep schedules more messed up than usual and my bank account feeling the numerical digits exit as I started ordering more groceries and takeout - the in-house chefs and kitchens in the apartment complex cost a leg and an arm.

Frankly, I liked my limbs too much to sacrifice them to a five star meal.

I'd settle with a different flavour or brand of instant noodles a day or the same leftovers for five days straight before allowing myself to even consider a meal prepared by the acclaimed chefs hired by Ms. Zhao.

And after three weeks, "The red queen" yacht incident (as I've so subtly codenamed it) was slowly beginning to die down in the press but any appearance made by the ex-fiancée brought a pack of paparazzi hungry for comments and her thoughts on the matter.

Subtle but still obvious, they're still out to paint Zander as the bad guy. Making the President's son a paragon of scandal made the President seem politically vulnerable and lacking discipline; the message was explicit, if the son was a black sheep then how much more tainted was the father?

Is this why you couldn't do anything, Mr. Nolan? You managed to sweep as much of the first incident under the rug but this, this was of Zander's own making.

Without saying a word to anyone, including Celia, I had contacted the President during those three weeks. I needed answers to the questions that kept bubbling up and bursting.

I had shocked myself with the spurt of confidence I possessed when I sent messages via text. I had panicked, shrieked, and nearly fainted at the sheer sight of the man when he showed up unannounced at my apartment but now...now I was dating his son.

And before I can let myself be drawn into thoughts of surrealism, I needed to grab hold of reality and face the facts because running away from anything now meant running away from Zander, and I was too deep into this to cower back.

I was too deep into him.

The President, despite his schedule, position and time always responded - I had more answers than I thought I would ever get.

All my inclinations were spot on. If matchmaking had taught me anything, it was that parents concealed from their kids as much as their children concealed from them.

The end result?

A relationship as delicate as glass that could easily crash into hundreds of broken pieces. And sometimes, when the concealed truth is picked up, it's as sharp as any shard that cuts into skin.

Zander may never trust his father for the loss of support but the President was in a bind. It wasn't so much a matter that he wouldn't help, he simply couldn't.

He might not have been able to tell me everything - probably from a disclosure clause - but he told me enough.

Enough to know that the President cared and that the resources passed onto Ms. Musa to handle the situation, were dealt by him. Even with all the power he wielded, there were far too many eyes watching him but like any man at the top, he had his methods and knew what back doors to take.