Jessica could no longer ignore the throbbing. It had begun in her forehead, but she could now feel it inside her head. She knew it wasn't a regular hangover because if it were, it would be over by now. Perhaps the flue. Whatever this headache was, it was here to stay, so she poured herself a glass of bourbon, hoping it'd make it stop. Jessica drank half of it and sat back on her desk where Malcom was sorting files. Since the whole thing with The Hand at Midland Circle, she had been flooded with cases.

"Who would've have guessed this hero shit would turn out to be such good PR," Jessica said, stacking some of the files.

"With the amount of work coming in, we should seriously consider hiring someone to help," Malcom suggested.

Jessica glared at him, and drank a sip of bourbon in silence. She still wasn't completely okay with how comfortable Malcom was working for her. With her, he'd correct, and he'd be wrong.

"I'm done with new faces for a while," she replied, putting the glass down. "A long while."

Too much human interaction, that's probably what's drilling my head. She refrained from saying it out loud considering that it would invite a line of questioning regarding said headache, and she didn't have the patience.

There was a knock on the door and Malcom stood up to open it.

"And they just keep coming," he said, before leaving the room.

Jessica kept organizing the papers, listening the creak of the door opening. I should get that fixed, eventually.

"Good morning, welcome to Alias investigation." Jessica heard Malcom say.

The positive side, she'd admit, of having him work for her was his ability to tolerate bullshit or, as some other people might call it "be friendly". He was way better at handling the clients that she ever was.

"Good morning," a woman's voice replied…with a French accent?

Jessica stopped for a moment, and listened. It seemed like a vaguely familiar voice. She finished the bourbon and placed the glass down.

"I'm looking for Ms. Jones."

Jessica stood up, and walked towards the entrance where she confirmed her suspicions.

"Marguerite Fournier," Jessica said, looking at the French woman by the door.

"Jessica Jones," the woman replied, smiling.

"What are you doing here?"

"To hire you, of course."

"Malcom, why don't you go out and get some bagels."

"Hmm…"

"Now."

"Alright." He nodded to excuse himself and walked out of the apartment, giving Jessica one last look to say we'll talk about this later.

"Do you mind if I smoke?" Marguerite asked, following Jessica towards the office.

Jessica gestured for her to have a seat, while she did the same behind the desk.

"Do you mind if I drink?" she replied, refilling her glass.

Marguerite let out a small chuckle as she took out a cigarette from a little silver case. Her nails were painted red, which matched her lipstick. Her brown hair was tied in a neat braid while a bang covered a portion of her forehead. She lighted the cigarette, let the smoke come out of her nostrils and looked at Jessica.

"I need your help."

"Things have changed a lot since last time. I'm a P.I now."

"I know. You're also into the hero business these days," Marguerite said, calmly. "I read all about it in the papers."

"I wouldn't call it that."

"Business?"

"Hero."

Marguerite smirked and tapped the cigarette so the ashes would fall on an empty glass on the desk.

"That's why I'm here," Marguerite continued. "Because you saved the city and I need you to do it again. Plus, you owe me a favor."

Jessica was silent, she drank from her glass.

"I want you to stop a war."

"What?"

"Constantin is missing. He has been for a while."

"That little shit is probably passed out in some poor spring breaker's hotel room or maybe he locked himself in the bathroom of some strip club, he'll be back soon, I wouldn't worry too much about it."

"I agree, but you know who doesn't? His father. Monsieur Beaumont thinks Ma Thompson and her people are behind this, he's practically convinced and ready to act. If he does, I'm afraid we'll have a war in our hands. And you know how these things go, innocent people will pay the price in the end."

"So, you want me to find the brat?"

"Precisely. And in the very unlikely case Ma Thompson is involved in this, I want to know before Beaumont does."

Jessica sighed and finished her glass.

"Fine."

"Good, I'll pay you for the trouble as well."

"No. I owe you one, plus I don't want the Beaumont's money."

"I respect that, but I had something better in mind," Marguerite said, dropping what was left of her cigarette on the glass. "How about a list of the dirty cops working for Ma Thompson?"

"You have that?"

Marguerite gave a small chuckle and stood up. "It's a deal then. I'll send you whatever I have that can help you find Constantin."

Jessica stood up as well, perhaps too quickly because the office spun around her a couple of times. She steadied herself and walked Marguerite to the door.

"Thank you, Jessica," Marguerite said, before walking away. "And I would call you that."

"What?"

"Hero."

Jessica closed the door wondering how had she agreed to working for the mob again, and this time for free.

"Who was that?" Malcom asked, placing the paper bag with the unwanted bagels on Jessica's desk.

"I need you to take the cases," Jessica said, without looking away from her computer.

"Which ones?"

"All of them."

"What?"

"Temporarily," Jessica said, looking at Malcom. "There's something important I need to look into. Can you handle that?"

"Y-yeah, sure. But…what is…who was that?"

"The less you know, the better. Trust me."

"Okay…I guess, I'll get going then…Let me know if you need anything."

"Alright."

Some moments after leaving the office, Jessica stopped because the bagels' smell was driving her crazy, and not in a good way. She stood up and saved them in the kitchen, before going back to her desk. Now, more focused, she could resume her work.

Constantin Beaumont was the youngest of the three Beaumont siblings, and undoubtedly the most reckless as well. He was a fan of house music and pool parties, as well as sampling the assorted recreational drugs his family dealt. He was still enrolled in NYU, even if he had only set foot in campus once or twice. With the amount of money he'd spent in a single day, he should be relatively easy to find. Nevertheless, the Beaumont's steered away from credit cards and banks as much as possible, precisely to avoid paper trails. Everything was cash. He was last seen in one of his family's penthouses, near Central Park. It was a place to start and Marguerite had already sent Jessica the passcode to enter. She had also assured her no one was there, so she'd be able to snoop around in peace, which she intended to do tonight, even though part of her was telling her all of this could still be a trap.

Only one way to know, she concluded, saving her phone in the pocket of her jacket.

Hello, hello, hello! Here's the second chapter, I'm having so much fun with this story and I hope you like it too. What happened with Marguerite and the Beaumont will be revealed throughout the story...

A special thanks to a guest for their lovely words, I'm glad you're enjoying the story!

Stay safe everyone,

Greetings from Colombia