THE GHOST OF MY PAST(GP)

Chapter Nine

Once the elevator bell dings and the doors slide open, I stride to the pantry while Ella's little feet are hot on my heels. She needs to run a little to keep up with my speed. When I see John standing by the counter, busy arranging the food on the service trolley, I let out a relieved sigh.

"Oh, John! I thought no one was here when the caterer delivered the package. You really are our savior!" I beam as I walk to the trolley to check the meal for the lunch meeting. Two big platters full of sushi rolls and four different sauces arranged in the middle of it, one platter of Japanese fried snacks, a gigantic bowl of mixed salad, and some beverages. My stomach rumbles as a result.

"Of course, miss-"

"I told you to call me Jennie."

"Jennie. Tanya texted me about the accident. Poor girl. She should take a taxi or get a driver for herself. I always wonder how she got her driver's license....Uh, hullo there, little one." John grins when he spots Ella who is hiding behind me and poking her head out, probably checking where all the delicious smell comes from.

"Hello."

"I'm John. What's your name?"

Ella scoots to my side and shyly extends her hand. "Ella. It's nice to meet you, Sir John."

John laughs and takes her small hand. "Nice to meet you too, Madame Ella."

I chuckle witnessing their encounter. I have no idea why Ella always addresses men at my work as sir, except for Dave, of course. He and his wife are huge fans of my girl, and their boy happens to be Ella's classmate.

"Alright. I'm going to get ready for the meeting," I say as I glance at the clock. "We still have twenty minutes until the meeting starts."

"I'll be at your service shortly, Madame," John bows at her before shifting his gaze to me. "Where do I deliver her lunch?"

"She will be in Ms. Manoban's room," I reply, ignoring his exaggerating gasp. "Thank you for doing this, John." With that, I grab my daughter's hand, ushering her to leave the pantry room. I can hear a reluctant groan escape Chloe's throat, but she needs to wait a bit for food. She has to be somewhere else right now and I've been anxious about this the whole morning.

Ella is meeting her maybe daddy.

I keep convincing myself that there is nothing to worry about. No one knows what's going on inside my head. No one has learned my suspicion of who Ella's father is. And it's all just speculation for now. Nothing has been proven yet.

Ms. Manoban is sitting on her desk, eyes fixed on the phone in her hand, when I knock on her open door. "Good afternoon."

The woman is wearing a white dress shirt wrapped in a casual navy suit, matching the color of her dark jeans. Sometimes I wonder if there is any type of attire that makes her look rather ugly. At least, that would be a great advantage for me and less distraction.

Ms. Manoban lifts her gaze from the cellular phone and her green irises lock with mine. She opens her mouth, about to say something, but immediately closes it again when her eyes catch a movement behind my hips. She knits hee eyebrows as my daughter's face emerges. That's when the two pairs of emerald eyes meet, gawking at each other.

I hold my breath in anticipation. The situation reminds me of a scene in a Mexican telenovela my mom used to watch. When something big took place, the camera switched from one face to another face, zooming in and out, suspenseful music blaring in the background. This is exactly that. Only, there is no camera and no suspenseful music. What we hear right now is the song Do You Want to Build a Snowman coming from the television screen.