Echoes Of The Heart

Chapter Twelve

He strode toward Stephlon and the man, his long legs carrying him forward with a purpose. Anger and frustration burned in his eyes, his hands clenched into fists. His first instinct was to throttle the man, to watch him suffer for what he had done to Stephlon. But he knew that would only make things worse. He needed to continue to be the hero in her life and not a villain she start to fear.

"Who are you, and what do you want?" The man holding Stephlon arm demanded, his grip tightening even more. He glared at the newcomer, who stood at least a head taller than him. The man's eyes were cold and calculating, his posture tense and wary.

The newcomer stood his ground, returning the man's gaze with an intensity that was almost frightening. "I'm here to help," he said, his voice calm and measured.

"That's not what it looks like to me," the man sneered. "I suggest you leave, before I call security."

"You will be calling nobody" Stephlon said, her voice trembling with anger and fear. The man still refused to let go of her arm, and she could feel his grip tightening.
In a flash, she brought her knee up hard into his groin. He howled in pain, his grip loosening as he doubled over. Stephlon wrenched her arm free and stumbled away from him. He collapsed to his knees, clutching himself as he moaned in agony.

Stephlon rushed to the front desk and asked the clerk for information about the man who had accosted her. She learned that his name was Roger Harris, and he was staying in room 314.

She then asked a bell boy to help the security team escort Mr. Harris out of the resort. Fortunately, he stay there ended the same day, so his departure would be swift. The staff was grateful to have the matter resolved so quickly, and they were relieved that Stephlon was safe.

As the security team approached his room, Mr. Harris began to act erratically, refusing to leave and insisting that his stay was not over. He became agitated and aggressive, shouting and swearing at the staff. Other guest began to gather around, concerned by the commotion. Some even called the front desk to report the disturbance.

Stephlon pushed through the crowd to where Mr. Harris was standing with the security team. As soon as he saw her, he froze, his eyes fixed on her like a predator eyeing its prey. Stephlon tried to maintain her composure, but a chill ran down her spine as his gaze swept over her. She took a small step back, but held her head high and kept a tight smile on her lips.

"Can someone call the cops?" She looked away from the man and looked to the crowd, her eyes calm and calculative as she figured her next move.  Suddenly she raised her hand and everyone's attention was drawn to the hand that remained outstretched, meanwhile Stephlon's gaze fell on Mr. Harris' confused ones.

As the room went silent, Stephlon lowered her hand, her smirk growing wider as Mr. Harris' eyes widened in horror. He had clearly forgotten about the surveillance cameras that were monitoring his every move.

Stephlon took a deep breath, her eyes never leaving Mr. Harris' face. "The cops are on their way, and this surveillance footage will be used as evidence" She spoke in a steady voice.

Mr. Harris' face turned ashen, his hands shaking as if with palsy. His eyes were wide with fear, his pupils dilated like a cornered animal. He tried to speak, but his words came out as a jumble of incoherent stutters. He seemed to be on the verge of a breakdown, his whole body trembling as if he were in the throes of a seizure. Then, he collapsed to his knees, holding his head in his hands and sobbing uncontrollably.

"Once he calms down have him taken to the nearest cab stand." Stephlon said, her voice cold and calm. There was no room for mercy in her voice, no sympathy for the man's distress. She apologized to the crowd about the discomfort they had to face, before asking the crowd to disperse and continue with their activities, as soon as the crowd left she walked away.

In a meeting room in New York, Gunther sat at the head of the table, his face stony and unreadable. The executives around the table shifted uncomfortably in their seats, their expression tense and worried. No one wanted to be the first to speak, fearing Gunther's wrath.

"Well?" Gunther snapped, his voice like a whip crack in the silent room.
"I'm waiting for someone to explain to me why the profit margin is not increasing!" The executives glanced at each other their nerves evident.

Gunther stood from his chair, while he paced around the room, his gaze sweeping over the executives with a steely intensity. They all sat frozen in their seats, unable to look him in the eye. Not a single one of them had an answer for him, and the tension in the room was palpable. Finally, one brave executive spoke up. "Sir, we understand your concern, and we're working hard to figure out a solution." He paused not knowing what to say to pacify their angered boss.

The silence was broken by the shrill ring of a phone, and everyone jumped in their seats, startled by the sudden noise. Gunther's eyes flashed with anger as he glared at the executives, his lips pressed into a thin line. The phone continued to ring.

Finally, Gunther strode to the table and grabbed his phone, and headed back to the wall of windows, his back to the room. The executives sat frozen, their eyes trained on Gunther's rigid form.

As Gunther listened to the person on the other end of the line, his face hardened into a mask if fury. His jaw was clenched, and his eyes flashed dangerously. He loosened his tie and shoved his hand into his pocket, his body language radiating menace. He turned to face the executives, his icy gaze swept over them, and they all shivered under his intense scrutiny. Goosebumps rose on their skin, and their hearts pounded in their chests. It was clear that Gunther's anger was building to a dangerous level.
And no one dared to speak.

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