NOVGO.NET Chapter 66 Voicemail
Chapter 66: Chapter 66 Voicemail
"Sir," Mr. Henderson said, his voice careful but firm, "the candidate you have been waiting for has not arrived. It is already 10:23 AM. Perhaps we should reschedule or move on to the next candidate—"
Rafael waved his hand dismissively. "No. We wait. She might be stuck in traffic, or she might have gotten lost, or maybe her phone died. These things happen."
Mr. Henderson blinked, his brow furrowing. "Sir, it is 10:23. The interview was scheduled for 10."
Rafael’s voice was sharp. "I know what time it is, Henderson. I can read a clock."
"Then why are we still waiting?"
Rafael leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. His green eyes were fixed on the door, hopeful and determined. "Because I want to give her a chance," he said. "She is qualified. Her resume is impressive and she deserves an opportunity."
Mr. Henderson looked at his boss. He had never seen Rafael like this. The man was usually confident, decisive and impatient with inefficiency but today, he was sitting here, waiting for a candidate who was already twenty-three minutes late, making excuses like a lovesick teenager.
"Sir," Mr. Henderson said slowly, "with all due respect, she is twenty-three minutes late. That is not a good sign."
Rafael shrugged, his tone casual. "Maybe she had a good reason."
"Like what?"
"I don’t know. Maybe she was saving a puppy or helping an old lady cross the street. Or—"
Mr. Henderson stared at him, disbelief in his eyes. "You are making excuses for someone you have never met."
Rafael’s voice turned defensive. "I have met her. Briefly. She seemed nice."
"Nice?"
"Yes. Nice, sweet, and kind. She is the kind of person who deserves a chance."
Mr. Henderson sighed, his shoulders dropping in resignation. He looked at his watch, then at the door, then back at Rafael. "Sir, it is 10:27."
"I know."
"We have other candidates waiting."
"I know."
"We could reschedule the interview."
"No."
Mr. Henderson opened his mouth to argue, then closed it. He had worked for Rafael long enough to know when to push and when to back off. This was clearly a time to back off.
Rafael looked at the door again, his leg bouncing faster. "Maybe she is stuck in traffic," he said again.
Mr. Henderson’s voice was flat, drained of emotion. "Sir, it is 10:30."
Rafael’s jaw tightened. "I know what time it is."
"Then why—"
"Because I have a feeling, Henderson. A gut feeling and my gut feelings are never wrong."
Mr. Henderson pinched the bridge of his nose, his voice strained. "Sir, this is highly irregular. We have a schedule to maintain. We have—"
"She will be here," Rafael interrupted, his voice firm. "I know she will."
Mr. Henderson stared at his boss. He had never seen this side of Rafael. The man was always in control, always composed, always three steps ahead of everyone else. But today, he was sitting here, waiting for a mute girl who was almost half an hour late.
Mr. Henderson decided not to say anything else.
The clock ticked.
10:35 AM
Rafael pulled out his phone and dialed Daisy’s number again.
The phone rang once, then twice and a third time.
It went to voicemail.
He frowned, his brow creasing with worry. "Maybe she is driving," he muttered. "She cannot pick up if she is driving."
Mr. Henderson watched him, his expression carefully neutral. "Sir—"
Rafael held up a hand, cutting him off. "It’s fine. She will call back."
Mr. Henderson said nothing.
10:40 AM
Rafael called again. Voicemail.
10:45 AM
He called again. Voicemail.
10:50 AM
Again. Voicemail.
Rafael’s leg bounced faster, his frustration mounting. "Maybe her phone is dead," he said. "Maybe she is trying to call me but cannot because her phone died."
Mr. Henderson finally spoke, his voice quiet but pointed. "Sir, I have been working for you for seven years. I have never seen you like this."
Rafael’s voice was defensive, almost wounded. "Like what?"
"Like... I do not even know. Like a child waiting for a puppy to come home."
Rafael ignored him and called again. Voicemail.
11:00 AM.
Mr. Henderson walked to the door, his clipboard tucked under his arm. "Sir, I have other matters to attend to. If the candidate arrives, please call me."
Rafael waved him away without looking up. "Yes, yes. You go."
The door closed behind Mr. Henderson.
Rafael was alone in the conference room.
He called Daisy again.
Voicemail.
He called again.
Voicemail.
He called again.
Voicemail.
He stared at his phone, confused and frustrated. "Why is she not picking up?" he muttered. "Is she ignoring me? Did I do something wrong? I only called her like... twenty times."
He paused, counting in his head. "Okay, maybe thirty times."
He called again.
Voicemail.
He frowned deeply, his green eyes narrowing. "Maybe she is busy," he said to himself. "Maybe she is in a meeting. Or maybe she is... I don’t know... climbing a mountain? People climb mountains and can’t answer their phones."
He called again.
Voicemail.
Finally, he noticed something. The call connected and immediately went to voicemail. It did not even ring.
"That’s strange," he said, his voice trailing off. "It’s not even ringing...."
❀┈┈┈┈❀
Meanwhile, Daisy was sitting on her bed, her phone in her hands, staring at the screen with wide, suspicious eyes.
An unknown number had been calling her all morning.
It had started yesterday. A missed call from a number she did not recognize. Then another. Then another. She had ignored them, assuming it was a wrong number or a telemarketer.
But this morning, the calls had started again. Three missed calls before 9 AM. Then another at 9:15. Then another at 9:30.
Daisy’s heart raced.
She did not answer unknown numbers. She had never answered unknown numbers. The only people who had her number were Cedric, Jenna, Annie, Grandpa James, Margaret, and now Alessio. That was it.
She had read news articles about scammers who called random numbers and tricked people into giving away their personal information. They would sound friendly, professional, and convincing. They would ask for bank details, addresses, passwords. And before you knew it, your accounts were empty and your identity was stolen.
Daisy had also read stories about people who answered unknown numbers and were harassed. Persistent callers who would not stop. People who would find your address and show up at your door.
She was scared.
She did not want to be scammed. She did not want to be harassed. She did not want to be found.
So she did what any sensible person would do.
She blocked the number.