Stalking The Billionaire

As a journalist, my job is to see things behind what the camera shows. What do I mean? I meant, seeing things that famous people do that ordinary people couldn't. In short, I'm a paparazzi.

Though, don't take me wrong. I'm a licensed journalist and everything I do has my supervisor's permission. Well, except this one. I plan to tail the billionaire. The famous billionaire that had no flaw, as per people that's what they say. But not me.

Definitely not me, I believe that even the most flawless person in the world has one mole. That means that this billionaire is no exception.

That billionaire is Allistair Montero. The multi-billionaire that owned several businesses that you wouldn't even notice, the food you're eating is from one of his restaurants or maybe one of your cars are from one of his car companies. It's strange how he's so rich when his family just owned the sugar-milling industry ages ago.

That means something must be happening. I existed to find that secret out and expose it to the people.

That's my job, after all.

I, Karina Allegre, will expose you and will be featured as the best journalist in the whole nation!

"Hey!"

I almost jumped when my supervisor yelled in my face. I even rubbed some of his salivae from my clear skin face, disgusting.

"What is it, sir?" I asked and it's late when I realized what I just called him.

"Sir? What is the gracious world are you calling me, Karina? That sinful word shouldn't be used as my freaking pronoun!" Oop-

Did I forget to share that my supervisor sails in a different river? Well, unfortunately, this very handsome creature is also looking for another handsome man. Hanabi Montecillo, oldly known as Hanz Montecillo, is my supervisor.

He's somehow nice to me if I would see his naggings as inspiration since I'm his only intern who he talks with this casual.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. So, what's up? What's with you that you effortfully come all the way from 43rd floor?" I asked.

Why? because executives are supposed to have different workloads in different office spaces that's why his office is on the 43rd floor and mine is only on the 30th. That's why I'm getting curious as hell into why did he visit me personally when regularly he sends his assistant to tell his orders to me.

"Don't be so nosy. I came all the way here because my boss reported you to me, again!"

Oop-

"I'm sorry, Ms. Montecillo, but may I ask what is this all about?" Me asking him with a little acting, take note. Just a little, I already got a clue what is this report all about.

"Shut up! Did you tail Mr. Montero again? Again?!" He exclaimed.

What?! What's wrong with tailing that man? He's just another famous personality that I need to discover to unveil his true self, right?

"Uhm--" I was about to lie when he...

"Another stalking, Karina, and I'm telling you. I'm going to kick you out from my team!" He yelled with impact right at my face where he splattered some of his sticky and smelly salivae once more.

I'm really gonna need to wash my face later. This is so disgusting!

"But-"

"No buts, Karina. Follow the orders and live a comfortable work, would you?" He interrupted.

"Fine, ma'am."

With that, he left and maybe went back to his office.

Come to think of it. They recognize me as GoodNet's Journalist when I wear my ID while stalking him. Every time his bodyguards do, I get reported to HR and get scolded by my supervisor. So...

Aha!

All I need to do is not wear my ID and no one will recognize me!

What a brilliant woman you are, Karina! You really are a remarkable journalist! You should be scouted by the networks from other countries and not stuck here as a paparazzi.

I will have to endure this for now, but I will get my promotion after I expose this billionaire's mole.

I left my office. Well, I can always leave my office. Journalists aren't supposed to stay in offices all day after all. They must be scattered everywhere and suck every information they can let the public know.

Writing articles inside the office is just a formality. Journalists should know how to adjust in every situation possible. A piece of news won't adjust for them, it even runs away from them. So, what a journalist should do is chase them.

And I am going to run after Allistair Montero.

Wearing tight boyfriend jeans, sleeveless polo shirt that is under my favorite lavender cardigan, I went to the nearest coffee shop. The nearest coffee shop is not to my office but AM Holdings. The main company of all of Allistair's companies. Also, this is where he goes for work.

That's why I'm here in this coffee shop hoping that my world gets to meet him now by this day.

I heard rumors that he goes out of work by five pm so I'll wait here for around thirty minutes or less. Sipping my caramel macchiato, I roamed my eyes to check my surroundings.

This place is so different from my workplace. This place is filled with people who has numerous good background and good families. In short, this place is screaming wealth directly at my face.

It shuns me away.

This is my first time being in this area because I usually follow Allistair in his programs out of town. By the word 'out of town' I meant, provinces that are way far from the civilization. They do charities and I have followed all of them for three months now.

They always catch me red-handed, and I'd expect another sermon from my supervisor the next day just like earlier today.

I'm not rich and the only reason I get to follow this billionaire like a shadow is that I spend my company's allowances for news adventures. Obviously, my network doesn't know about that.

Actually, if my company catches me spending the company's fortune for selfish desires, I'd be jobless by tomorrow. Maybe, even now.

My pay as a journalist is not that much. People thought that if you became a news worker you'd be earning fortune every news that you will publish, but no. My earnings are only enough for me to bring my four siblings to school. Take note, all of them are in college.

This is a big sacrifice, it doesn't really look like it but it is.

Just as after I finished sipping my caramel macchiato, I saw his car passed by the coffee shop...no, wait.

It didn't just pass by. It stopped!