See? Daily updates if y'all review, right?

Guest: oh, how I want to reply to your review... I assume you're the same one that left the review about Grace two chapters ago, and I will tell you now that the ex-wife's identity will be revealed in an outtake. Whether or not she's Grace, you'll have to wait and find out.

Guest: so glad that you got caught up! I love your case studies, makes me feel proud that I've succeeded in building a 3D character that resembles a real person.

Guest: yeah, Ray and Carla are bullshitting just to get Ana off of the topic. They just want her to drop it, that's all. Buying shares, yes, too little too late. You're right, Ana is acting like a spoiled brat lately. I'm glad that my character portrayal is clear that my readers can see them how I want them to see it.

zeeulove: you'll know about them in an outtake.

Ball Dropping

"Do you know what day is today?" Anastasia rolled onto her stomach, her feet swinging back and forth like a high school girl on the phone with her bestie.

"Monday, August 29, why?" It as just a few minutes to seven in the morning and Christian was in the closet getting ready for work, steam emerging from the opened bathroom door following him.

"Which is exactly eight weeks from the accident!" She exclaimed, as if the volume of her voice could drill the information in his dense head to trigger the response that she was anticipating.

"I didn't know you kept count," he smirked, emerging from their small walk-in closet still fiddling with his top buttons with the remaining items draped across his forearm.

Even in his semi-dressed state with his sleeves unbuttoned and his belt hanging loose around his hip, he still looked sinfully attractive. Nothing like someone who had a near-death experience with the devil herself just two months ago.

"It's exactly six weeks since I got my tubes removed and returned some resemblance of normalcy. Four weeks since we visited Isaac, gave our statements. Two weeks since you returned to work full-time with my handmade thank-you bakery for your executives, which I think you're still jealous of. One week since my stitches are removed. A few days since I got back to work full-time."

"Seems like you've got it all figure out, then," he smirked, having already caught on where she was going with this.

"But you don't look like you have," she inched closer to him and met him at the end of the bed.

With a firm tug of his just done tie, his knees hit the mattress. Their eyes leveling as she was on her knees, only slightly shorter than his full height.

"What have I missed then?" He didn't have to try for a sultry tone when he felt her hands making their way down his front and stopping at his unbuckled belt. He knew there was nothing stopping him from getting hard. It wasn't lost on him that he had just willed his dick to go down in the shower by forcing his brain to be plagued with scenarios of how the meeting with his parents would go. He was reclaiming his shares starting this week after it was rescheduled.

"What do you think?" He gasped abruptly when her hands cupped his full package. He sure had missed this kind of contact.

A slow smirk started to resurface on his face, matching her own. Though, his smirk didn't widen like hers when she brought both of her hands inside the front of his trousers to massage his balls over his boxers.

Throwing his head back, he bit back a moan even though she knew how much he was enjoying this even without his verbal response. That moan. however, quickly escaped his parted mouth as her thumb flicked over his tip.

"Touch me," he pleaded in a whisper with urgency.

That seemed to be enough to snap her out of her equally lust filled trance. Pulling her hands out of his pants, with some difficulty, she eased his fully erected cock back into the tight restraint behind the zipper. She swept her tongue over his bottom lip but didn't enclose her mouth around his like he wanted her to.

"Now, that bulge looks promising," she ran her fingers over his impressive tent below the just buckled belt. It was incredibly tight and uncomfortable for him.

"Ana," he groaned frustratedly. Snatching her hands away from his flies since he knew she was only going to tease him some more. "Why?" He all but whined at her triumphant face.

"You know why. You aren't prepared. Where's your medical test result?" She held out her palm asking for it knowing that he didn't have it.

He sighed with even more frustration because in his current position and status in society, he wasn't able to ask that they test his sample first and speed everything up. Now, he had to wait in line; for weeks.

"You refused to buy condoms," she shrugged, sitting back on her heels.

"It's not like you'd let me enter you even with a condom without my damn blood test!"

"You could've had that ready since I'm still not on birth control," she nodded but reminded. Asking for him to be tested was a reasonable request from her, which only fueled his frustration because he couldn't take his anger out on her. It was him that got submissives, even though he'd never had unprotected sex with them.

Now, he was full-on sulking.

Rightfully so, in his own opinion. She didn't let him get her off using his mouth and that wasn't helping with the pent up sexual frustration now consuming him. Her touch alone was able to make him feel pleasure burning through his body, and for a moment he was proud that he hadn't jerked off or cum at her touch. He was proud that he purposely saved his pleasure for her.

"Don't come," he murmured as he adjusted his trousers while glaring at her. "I'll get you that fucking sheet of paper tonight," with that growl, he smacked a loud kiss on her lips and left the room before she had a chance to protest.

That backfired.

She groaned loudly into the pillow that she had her face stuffed in.

…

"What the fuck?!" She slammed her palm down onto the conference table producing a loud resounding cacophonic clap scaring the shit out of every men in the room.

"Doctor Steele, please," one of the FBI said.

"No! You don't get to say one more fucking word because you are the representative of the organization responsible for the agony and psychological trauma that Christian and I went through!" She shot up from her seat and her voice raised several octaves.

"We didn't…"

"What exactly took you guys so long to come to a fucking conclusion about that penthouse? To come up with a collective lie about how you FBIs dropped the balls on us not once but twice? Not only did you nearly cost two lives but also wasted our fucking time. It's the end of August and that's two months already! Yet, the Lincoln residence had just been swept?"

"Escala is the actual crime scene, however the Lincoln residence is not." The equally incompetent chief of police uttered, it was no wonder the FBI they recommended worked at snail speed.

"So, you need a search warrant and obtain permission from the owner, which happens to be an underaged sixteen year-old teenager. I hardly doubt that this is what delayed your progress!" She didn't allow another syllable out of their mouths. They were already at a disadvantage when the chief of police had a hand in selecting the FBI agents, and in this heavily corrupted world, this team was apparently the worst possible combination according to Barney and Welch's sources in the FBI; starting with the directors.

"Everything is concluded," the FBI began again, and even Taylor and Sawyer shook their heads at the incompetency shown by the Feds and the police department. It wasn't as if they hadn't file complaint and requested to change the agent in charge, but they were advised that the changes could only be considered after a couple months of trial period.

That was plain bullshit even in Sawyer's CIA friends' ears. Their director had been dissing the FBI director for the longes time, and that endless rivalry contributed to the prejudice the FBI agents seemed to have against Sawyer.

"With no apparent valid or presentable conclusion," she finished for him. "You've had all in all, more than two months, at the very least, to come up with an executable plan! I was told that you had people on Elena since at least March or April. So, where the fuck is that blueprint?" She demanded, fury shooting out of her electric orbs.

"They were actually not the group appointed," Sawyer grumbled after debating silently for the past few minutes whether to reveal this small piece of information or not. "The leader volunteered to take this case, and the other one was assigned an equally high profile case, so we got the incompetent one instead of the competent one."

"That's just the grudge held by all CIAs." The FBI said back, knowing Sawyer's background.

"It is evident that you and your team clearly lacks the skillset. I'm just an ex-Marine, and he also is, so it really doesn't have anything to do with his previous employment before joining my security team."

"If you have no reports for us, please stop wasting our time and leave." Christian ended the meeting effectively without tolerating another word from the authority. His voice levelled which was clear that a storm was brewing.

They were clever enough to head for the door.

Taylor and Sawyer saw the guests out and Anastasia huffed aloud.

"A miscalculation," she scoffed angrily, finally sitting back down on the chair. "They let Elena into your home, accosted you but where were they when she made you hang yourself?"

"I saw them," he murmured. "I thought they had always been around, just showed up too late or something."

"I was already shot by that time then, but what happened to Elena?"

"Dead. Sawyer shot her the same time she fired…" he stared at her imploring her to piece the puzzles together, which wasn't hard to begin with.

"They should've intervened sooner. I didn't see anyone when I entered the penthouse. I mean, which is the part they miscalculated? The part about her with a gun? What, just like Elena didn't anticipate my involvement? And, somehow I sabotaged her plans not once but twice? For some reason, I'm always in the way. Perhaps I also sabotaged the plans for the Feds."

He could only guess that this was what Elena talked about with her when Taylor did CPR on him. He was glad that he didn't sign the DNR when he got her over for all the legal documents.

"Is that why she shot you?"

She shook her head, unsure how much she wanted to dove into. The memories were already buried.

"I guess that was when the FBIs came in," she recalled a commotion outside before she was shot. "But, no," she sighed, there was nothing stopping her brain from recollecting the sordid details. "She wasn't aiming for me, she was aiming at you," she released another breath and turned her face to watch the busy streets down below. She couldn't bear to see the reaction on his face fearing that he might have a setback; that was pure avoidance, but she just couldn't do it.

"Are you okay?"

Anastasia jumped startled when she felt Christian's fingertips brushing against the back of her hand. When she looked around the conference room, Taylor and Sawyer were already back.

"Do you want to talk to someone about it?" He offered softly. "I know that this meeting has reopened some of the old… recollections that you just want to forget," he grasped her hand to regain her attention.

She thought she must've had this hollow and lost look in her eyes for him to ask this question. He had never brought up therapy to her when she decided not to revisit the past, even though she had actually briefly considered this when she saw that Christian was benefitting from his regular sessions with Flynn.

She just didn't want to rehash it and spend ages on it.

"We'll see," was all of her reply.

Her anger had been sidetracked by the calmness in the room now that doodle dee and doodle dumb had left. She really couldn't stomach another word from them. Their tech team had provided everything, yet, the official investigation still concluded so perfunctorily. All they were told was that the gun was from Montana, snuggled into Elena's hand by Jack Hyde; the two married submissives demanded compensation while the other three were nowhere to be found. Basically, they just brought a shitload more to their plate.

"What were you thinking when you wrote those fucking letters?" She demanded the moment she asked Taylor to grab them lunch and Christian instructed Sawyer and the rest of the attendees—Burt, Sam, Barney and Welch—to wait in another room and discuss what could be done, and whom to inform among the executives.

"What?" Completely taken off guard by this outburst.

"You told me, or at least your therapist said you don't have any mental illness like depression, yet the content in your death notes seemed anything but written under pressure. Yet, you told the detectives in the statement that you were forced with a gun to your head. Your letters honestly all appeared to be preplanned. The only thing that is preventing me from actually believing that you were depressed and planned a suicide was the use of envelopes; you never fold your papers. Which now leads me to this deduction. Did you honestly thought about breaking your promise to me and succumb to Elena? You didn't showcase an ounce of panic in your writing, only regret."

He clenched his jaw to stop it from dropping, but his head did.

He couldn't fool her with anything.

"I was right, wasn't I? You were going to give up?"

"I was going to use the millisecond that we were both distracted to hurl the chair at her. She was staring at the door frozen when we heard Taco. I slipped when he bursted through the door. We were both startled by the sound and she nearly dropped her gun."

"Why?" She groaned aloud at his stupidity, though people would act stupidly under pressure, so she could only think of it as idiotic in hindsight. "Why did you even put your neck through that noose? Why didn't you make a fake knot?" She cried in frustration but she was sure he'd bemoan her lack of effective actions to eliminate the threat after she switched with Taylor for the CPR.

"She would know if it was fake," he explained, once again reminding her of Elena's intelligence was not to be undermined. "I put my head through because there was no other way of prolonging the time by being authentic when following her instructions. That bought me time until I slipped on my way to pull my head out when Taco showed up."

These all sounded familiar because they had heard each others' recount in their statements. Now come to think of it, the statements were collected in a very unofficial manner. They were giving the accounts while the other was present. Technically, this could effect the quality, validity, and authenticity of the statements.

"I don't feel anything anymore." The pad of her fingers vibrated as he spoke, they were tracing the faintest scar that he didn't know he had. "Is there a scar?"

"Not really," there used to be one but in her eyes, they would be present for as long as she remembered the image of him lying on his back with a bruised neck. "This is where the initial damage had been made when your stool was kicked off. I didn't have time to check your nape, so I assumed your cervical vertebra isn't hurt."

"You examined me?" That was left out in the police statement.

"I didn't get to finish it because your heart stopped following your breathing."

"So you started CPR."

"That's what is supposed to happen. As long as I can still administer CPR without inflicting further injury on a patient, that should be the priority. Keeping the circulation going in the body is the most important."

He squirmed when her thumb felt down the cartilage around his trachea.

"What are you doing?"

"This place," her thumb paused at the cartilage ring near his scar, rubbing it repeatedly. "It still feels different from the rest. There," she used both thumbs this time and scooted closer to him. "A little tilted, and not paralleled to the rest. The angle is a bit abnormal."

"So, there is permanent damage?"

"Do you feel any difficulty breathing, swallowing or any discomfort such as pain when this place is touched?" He shook his head no. "Any abnormal feeling when you move your neck, or restraining your daily movements?" It was a no again. "then, that is what we medically classify as full recovery. No permanent damage. I've never felt around your throat before, so I don't know whether this happened before the incident or because of it. But, don't give it too much thought if it doesn't bother you."

The doctor in her accidentally made him aware of the internal scar, and now his mind was going into an overdrive.

…

Anastasia stepped off of the private elevator in Grey House just in time to see the entire Grey clan in the lobby. It was only just after lunch where she spent the morning in a dog park with Taco and a few other dogs that were willing to come out on a rainy day. Monday was her day off because she worked Tuesday to Saturday.

After their busy weekends since two weeks ago starting with the hospital director's son's grand wedding. They didn't turn down a single invitation to social events, until yesterday when they finally had nothing planned.

The day was spent just like how she wished. It was him making it up to her after their unending social affairs since the week she got her stitches removed. She just had to run into her hospital director whose son's wedding took their Saturday and an event that Ros demanded Christian attend on the Sunday. Her lazy takeout day was postponed till two weeks later, decreased from the entire weekend to only Sunday, because that was the only time when they were both at home.

In the end, she did get her wish to spend the day in bed chilling and watching Netflix and eating takeout for every meal. Well, minus the part where they had to take Taco out. Other than that, their pooch enjoyed every second of the day when he was snacking from their food and watching them eat.

Christian on the other hand, wanted so badly to fulfill the chilling part by going down on her, but even that was met with rejection. The furthest he got was fingering her during their very heated make out sessions. He was almost certain that she still wasn't over the fact that he had submissives during their time apart, and regret didn't even begin to cover what he was feeling when he got rejected for offering to eat her out. He didn't even get a hand job, and that was the last straw before he began to feel disgusted with himself.

He kept his distance with her unless she reached for him for most of the evening that day.

Their long stroll with Taco didn't even help his anxiety.

"I'm sorry," she squeaked as the door closed behind her after Andrea brought her a bottle of water. "Tucks got wet, so took me longer," she excused her tardiness and sat at the head of the table.

She then turned her attention to the rest of the attendees, Grace and Carrick, as well as Burt, offering them each a curt nod.

"What are you doing here?" Carrick demanded in a condescending tone, then turned to Christian who sat across them next to Burt and repeated the question in third-person.

"She is the majority stock."

"You have a board now, then?" He inquired as Grace narrowed her eyes at the woman.

Grace thought she had wronged the girl when she heard the state she was in because of Christian in the hospital, then she remembered Elena's words and evidence she'd brought over, Grace now believed in a new theory; and, Anastasia was still the villain.

The siblings had just left after a bonding session with Flynn in the morning—at least that was what they called it. The session was really just for them to get to know each other better. Of course, the parents were invited, but mostly because they felt shameful for allowing such a catastrophe to happen in their family, so they didn't show up to any of the family sessions.

As far as Grace was concerned, Elena was only wrong for praying after young boys, but everything else she had said about Anastasia was right; especially about her intentions to steal from them. Then, there was Carrick, who thought quitting the law firm instead of getting sacked saved his dignity.

"Consisting of me, Ros and Ana."

"You really are going to leave the shares in her hands?" Grace questioned once again, focusing entirely on her son.

"Or would you rather it end up in Elena's?" Anastasia countered but Grace paid her very little regard.

"That's better than you. You aren't professional and know nothing about business."

"Well excuse me, Dr Trevelyan. I am a doctor just like you, hence your foul suggestion to persuade Christian to invest in her stupid salons. I only need to be professional in my area of expertise; the same goes for you. Yet, you failed to even fulfill that duty. At least, no one has died on the operation table because of me, but two people most certainly almost did under your watchful eyes."

Carrick wanted to offer her his own two cents of worth but was cut off by Christian's throat clearing. Even when he wasn't the one sitting at the head of the table, and seemed very unconfident about his personal life, when it came down to business, he could command the entire boardroom from anywhere.

That was his element.

He now felt less need to control his relationship, but his desire for control still very much exist, and it would be solely focused on his professional life.

"If you two are done criticizing my company's majority shareholder, I'd like to start with the procedure."

His parents were obviously stunned by the coolness in his tone. It sounded nothing like the tone they'd ever been addressed to in the past.

Wisely, they shut their mouth and the rest of the meeting led by Burt went smoothly. The Greys now had another goal in mind—to talk to Christian privately and convince him to see sense.

"Ros insisted on taking us out, go find her and I will join you in a bit. Text me the address," he pecked her on the lips before escorting her out of the conference room. The parents weren't the only one wanting a private word.

Anastasia wanted to tell him that she actually didn't want to go, but since Ros insisted on returning the courtesy, referring to the muffins she made for the entire executive staff for their efforts through the hit and for sticking by. She knew GEH would take awhile to pick up and return to where it left off, because a successful attack on the reputation of the company's CEO was like social homicide. There was nothing that could take back what had been said, and the stain would remain until it was covered by a huge accomplishment.

Reputation was critical in any world nowadays.

…

"Before either of you start," Christian perched on the edge of the desk facing his parents who stood side by side before him. "Let me make this perfectly clear. I didn't watch the security footage of what went down at Escala that afternoon when you were all informed of my will, but I do know that you didn't leave a good impression on Ana. I don't know what exactly Elena has brainwashed you with, but I gathered that it's something untrue about Ana. No matter what is it that she got the two of you to believe, I thought the two of you were going to realize that she was wrong about my girlfriend, and I was going to convince Ana to give you guys a chance to explain.

"But, after witnessing how you two behaved toward her earlier, I'm not even sure I want to stick with you guys anymore."

"She destroyed our family, Christian! We used to be a model family," Grace wailed as if she was the one that had been wronged all this time.

Carrick stood by the side silently thinking of a convincing argument that could support his wife's ridiculous one. When Grace cried into his shoulder that dawn on the Fourth of July after learning the fact that Anastasia got shot protecting Christian, he thought she had finally came to her senses that this girl was actually the only one that stood by their son through his darkest time more than any of his family.

While he had realized what Elena had fabricated about the girl was completely false and he had been an idiot in believing her. He thought his wife came to the same recognition, and being the coward that he was, he planned to come out with her so they could face the consequences together of the choices they made in befriending an extremely manipulative pedophile. In that way, he wouldn't be the one to be blamed.

However, it now seemed like they were never on the same page.

Grace was bemoaning the fact that Anastasia went to extreme extent to secure Christian's fortune. She was so convinced that the young doctor had it in for Christian. Wherever the confidence came from made her believe that they had the most precious and special item that this brunette girl wanted so desperately, hence she never gave up on corrupting their son.

Until now, Grace still believed that Anastasia had a hand in the entire drama.

"She didn't, your best friend did," Christian shocked himself with the amount of patience that he was currently administrating.

"Elena is simply warning us about her."

"Oh, and did you forget about the part where she fucked your underage son? Manipulated him for six years?"

"That did help you though. You got in line, you stopped the messed up life you were leading and got into Harvard."

"What kind of parent are you? To think that it's perfectly fine to have your son belted and caned on a regular basis just so you could gloat to your friends, which has ostracized you, about this apparent golden boy." Christian's voice went from an octave higher to one lower.

"That's now what I meant!" Grace cried louder. "It came out wrong!"

"It doesn't matter!" He bellowed, perfectly aware of his so-called father cringing away next to the woman, just because he was proved equally guilty no matter how differently he thought; because it wasn't how he acted. "To think I even thought about keeping you two in my life despite your differences with my girl—because she insisted that I don't cut you off completely. I really should've just went with my gut intuition and leave you two the hell alone!"

Grace's face was now stricken with tears that were dropping on to her clothes, and Carrick stared at his son numbly at the implication.

"I'll tell you what," he took a deep breath and said the most hurtful words he had possibly uttered to anyone. "Now that I've got my shares back, you two are nothing to me anymore. I am so much better off with Ana than with the two of you!"

With that, he strode out of the room, leaving the two middle aged couple on the floor.

At that moment, however, Carrick was more that determined to prove that they weren't failing as parents. When one son closed the door in their faces, he was determined to find that other opened door in Isaac; and, he vowed that they were going to move back to Detroit like what Isaac wanted just so they could focus on him, and be the best parents that they should've been to their three current children.

Nonetheless, getting the adoption through was going to be problematic.

But, he was determined. He just hoped Grace could snap out of whatever sick mentality she was currently in.

…

"Are you two playing footsie?" Christian's question about why they were in the GEH cafeteria got stuck in his throat when he spotted his girlfriend sitting across his COO with both of their heels on the ground and a plate of fries on the table. Most of the employees in the cafeteria turned around to see the rare occurrence of the CEO barreling into the canteen for private matters.

"Are you sugar high?" Anastasia rebutted. "I did found the fridge one cake emptier, and don't say you gave it to Tucks because that's a small chocolate cake."

Christian scowled at her for outing their domestic life, not that anyone suspected that the couple wasn't already sharing an apartment. He felt slightly better knowing that it was just Ros present at their banter.

"By the way," she continued when he couldn't come up with a response. "This is her," pointing at Ros, "idea of treating us to lunch. In the cafeteria with greasy food," she then pointed at the plate of fries.

"No one paid you any less," Christian jibed at Ros.

"My wife forbade me to spend money on stuff like expensive luncheons."

Anastasia sniggered, stealing a fry from the plate that was supposedly Ros's.

"Buy fewer shoes, handbags, clothes, cosmetics, perfumes, and whatever extra things you buy and you can treat us to lunch." Christian rolled his eyes, sitting down next to Anastasia picking up a fry from Ros's plate.

"I already bought you food. See the both of you eating from my plate?"

"Oh come on, woman up, Ros!" Christian stood up, pulling Anastasia with him. "It's my girl's day off, and she's got better things to do than entertain your petty ass, so if you don't make a choice now, I'm choosing the most expensive restaurant in Seattle."

"You can't get a reservation," Ros stuffed the last few fries into her mouth and trailed behind the couple.

"I can," he smirked cockily. Anastasia knew either he really could or he was going to ask José Senior for that reservation.

When they settled into a restaurant similar to the Mile High Club—high-end and expensive—Ros reached for the whine catalogue automatically. The couple raised their eyebrows and shared a look of amusement before returning to their own menu just so they wouldn't laugh.

"We're drinking?" Anastasia finally couldn't help it anymore, the irony was just too loud to be ignored.

"Hell yes!" Ros exclaimed, luckily they were in a private room. "I won't get in trouble if I get my boss drunk."

"You will only be in bigger trouble if I got to work drink," Christian deadpanned, but he would normally allow one or two drinks as long as his employees never turn up tipsy. They should know their limit, and there was no stopping Ros from drinking wine.

Ros shrugged and picked out a wine that Anastasia had never heard of but apparently appreciated by Christian.

"You'll like it, I think. We have one of that at home," he assured the clueless girl that happened to be his. "Not exactly your favorite taste, but I think you'll enjoy this one, too."

"This is so good," Ros moaned after a sip of the beverage.

"And, expensive," Anastasia added.

"Just shut up and drink, Ana." Ros drained her glass and poured another one.

…

SEPTEMBER 2016

Christian was frustrated beyond words could describe. It was now September and he still hadn't got that damn piece of paper to prove that he was clean. He had a box of condom at home and was sure that Anastasia saw it, but the most annoying thing was the fact that he couldn't even use those fuckers!

He was still waiting.

"I vetoed on the documentary idea, you kind of convinced me," he told her, pushing his frustration aside to focus on reporting his day just like he did every day once she got home. He was always earlier than her, and he swore she was working like he wasn't bringing money home.

"Oh, good, because I was going to tell you that won't work. Though, I keep forgetting."

"By the time it's done and out there, people would've already forgotten about the whole debacle."

"My thoughts exactly. So, either it's going to dig up the dirt or not make any difference. Your company will have to come out with the help of time."

"I'm only getting small deals these days though."

"Patience, love."

Yeah, patience… where the fuck is that sheet of paper?!

…

Now that all of the shares were signed back except for Anastasia's 51% and Ros 2%, Christian now had 47% which he was happy about. Though, one thing he wasn't happy about was the part where he was informed that Anastasia went to José Senior for the money to buy him out.

He had suspected that Anastasia got the shares from José Sr after he sold them to him, but he didn't want to believe that fearing that she would be in debt. After she told him her entire encounter with the family, he now knew why she was so reluctant to accept the condo.

"Two years," he decided and told her when he met up with her at Northwest where she had returned full time, taking the place Addie briefly occupied. "That's all I am asking," he leaned against the locker as he watched her take off her white coat and hang it up inside the closet.

"Then what?" She asked, tidying her collar and smoothing her dress. She had a surgery scheduled for the afternoon but a very small one, so she was still debating whether she should rush back to change into pants so she didn't have to be extra uncomfortable in scrubs.

"We can move out of the current apartment, even out of Seattle. Whatever you want. I'm only asking for two years to pick up from where I left off."

"Without the help of the documentary?"

"Are you seriously considering the idea? That means we are publicly criticizing everyone."

Sam approached them a few days ago suggesting that they make a documentary to completely clear Christian's name so that other businesses would have less reservation when it came to conducting business with GEH, and might be more willing to reach out. The company was currently not showing any signs of improvement, and PR suspected that it still had something to do with the reputation.

Despite many, or the majority, newspapers now singing Christian's praises, none actually explicitly pointed out that Christian was wronged and innocent in all this all along; that he was once again a victim of Elena's vicious attack.

"I'm entertaining it. I think it might help you."

"And you?"

"I'm good. Doctors don't tend to consider too much about our private life unless we're pedophiles or some capital offenders. My research and medical history is bright enough to cover up my stain, at least to not make it so obvious. I still have colleagues talk shit about me or about us behind my back."

They head out the room toward the elevator down the hall where there would be less people since patients didn't normally know about that lift.

"Dr Steele!"

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