The Contingency Bureau, Somewhere between Time and Space

MARISSE

Marisse's chest constricted, unable to deny the pain of the past that had scarred him for life.

Everything shifted.

Marisse blinked and found himself seated in an unfamiliar office with white walls, a soft mechanical hum, a desk.

The reporter with the odd Polaroid camera now stood in front of him, looking oddly out of place yet perfectly at home.

"Welcome to the Contingency Bureau," he said. "My name is Jax. And you, Mr. Rickarte, are now on the edge of everything that ever could have been."

What... what happened?" His voice came out steadier, though his mind was still racing. "I don't understand."

"Let's just say your accident opened up a door," Jax said, leaning forward, eyes sparkling with a mix of urgency and something else-was it excitement? "You're in the Contingency Bureau's office now. We're here to help you navigate what's next."

As Marisse tried to sit up straight, he was suddenly seated on an office chair, his bare feet touching the cool floor. His surroundings came into sharper focus, revealing a space that resembled his legal team's office back home-sleek furniture, an array of impressive awards lining the walls, a faint hum of machinery somewhere just out of sight. But it felt surreal, like a stage set, ready for a performance he hadn't agreed to be a part of.

"What's next? Who are you, kid?!" he blurted, the questions escaping before he could filter them. "What's happening?"

Jax laughed, a bright, disarming sound that only added to Marisse's sense of unease. "I am your case manager, please, my appearance is but a façade. What matters is that you appreciate the unique opportunity here, Marisse, but we need to act fast."

A sense of dread settled deep in Marisse's bones, a whisper of foreboding that nagged at the edges of his consciousness. Yet, a part of him yearned to understand, to claw his way back to a reality he felt slipping away like sand through his fingers. "What do you mean, opportunity?"

"You have been granted what we call a passing," Jax said, his tone dipping into something almost conspiratorial. "An opportunity to change a choice you once made in the past. "Jax said, the enthusiasm in his voice like a flame, trying to ignite Marisse's own. "Fear not, for I shall be with you every step of the way."

Marisse felt a rush of panic mixed with intrigue. The thought of erasing past mistakes, of rewriting the narrative of his life, was intoxicating. Yet, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was teetering on the edge of something unfathomable. What kind of reality was he stepping into?

Marisse's mind struggled to catch up with the words, his heart pounding with confusion. "Where am I right now and what the hell are you talking about?" he asked, trying to focus.

Jax's expression softened, his gaze penetrating yet kind. "You are in a place between life and death, Marisse. You made a choice. A heroic choice. You saved hundreds of lives. And the universe suddenly shifted from that one single act of courage."

Marisse's chest tightened. "I... I didn't... I didn't intend to be brave. I just did what I could."

Jax nodded solemnly. "And you did. Your selfless act did not go unnoticed. That is why you are here. The Bureau recognizes your actions, and we offer you in return-a second chance."

His heart clenched as his thoughts raced.

Rose.

The name surfaced like a distant memory, a love he had abandoned for ambition. She was the reason he had fought so hard to build his empire. The reason he had kept pushing, climbing higher, until his heart had been buried beneath the weight of his own success.

Jax continued, "Oh, it's Rose, is it?"

It was as if Jax read his mind and for a moment Marisse felt invaded and Jax smiled reassuringly. "Do not be bothered as I am here merely as your guide. But understand this-your fate, and hers, is intertwined. The decisions you make now will determine her future as well."

The words hit Marisse like a thunderclap.

Rose.

He had failed her. The pain of losing her was still raw, even after all these years. He had always wondered, in the quiet corners of his mind, whether he could go back, change the course of things. Whether there was a chance for them.

But what of his present life? And what of Rose's father? The thought of Enrique Villamor and how his intrusion in Marisse's budding romance with Rose in the past sent doubt and regret course through Marisse's entire being. An unfamiliar nagging to the now confident magnate.

Thoughts of his lost love suddenly rushed through him in a jolt of emotion that made him wince. She had been a delicate presence--his Rose---an heiress of a powerful shipping magnate. Cloistered from the world, wrapped in pearls and expectation. A debutante raised on old-world manners and fragile hope.

He had let her go.

Because love wasn't enough, not when he had nothing. Not when he was the bastard child of a reckless mother who had abandoned him. He hadn't been able to protect Rose then, not from her father's fury, nor from the world that would have swallowed her whole if she stayed by his side. If he'd held on tighter, she would've been ruined, and he would've been the one who ruined her.

"What if I refused?" Marisse asked. "Rose's life could not have been worse off than mine is right now?"

Jax raises his hand as if lifting a curtain and the wall showed images of Rose on the first day that Marisse met her.

"You have the chance to finally know what could have been if you chose to stay with her, Marisse." Jax explained. "Are you too cautious a man to say no to that?"

Marisse's voice was hoarse. "What are you asking me to do?"

Jax tilted his head, smiling. "You already know. But you don't have to say yes. Not yet."

Marisse hesitated. "I need to think about it."

Jax's smile remained, but his eyes darkened slightly. "Of course. Though the clock has already begun ticking the moment the first photo was taken."

He held out the polaroid camera, the same one from earlier.

"You have until midnight to use this again. One photo will take you back to one of the seven days you were with Rose aboard her father's ship. There are seven films left in this camera. Use one each day. But be warned: when the clock strikes midnight, you'll return to the present, your present. If you don't take the next photo in time, you'll lose that day and the chance with  it."

Marisse studied the camera, unsure whether it was a tool or a trap. "And if I need guidance? If I want to find you again?"

Jax gave a small nod. "Don't worry. Call, and I'll answer."

Then, with a flourish, Jax waved his hand toward the wall. The surface shimmered like water disturbed by a breeze.

"Go on."

And as if stepping through a living portrait, Marisse walked into the wall and found himself once more at the edge of the gala, the night still glittering with champagne and secrets.

Marisse returned to the gala with a surge of fury in his chest, the echoes of Jax's words and the weight of the camera still slung in his hand like a curse. The ballroom was alive again. Glasses clinking, orchestras humming, laughter reverberating off marble pillars. But Marisse saw none of it. His eyes scanned the crowd until they found Andrew Pelquiejo, calm and poised as the youngest of his three assoiates,---and teh person who took the polaroid of him and his Maverick's Rose. Andrew was standing by the wine table speaking to a pair of diplomats when Marisse found him.

Marisse crossed the floor with purpose, the mask of composure cracking ever so slightly.

"Andrew. A word," he said sharply, his tone more command than request.

Andrew excused himself and followed Marisse to a quiet alcove just beyond the exhibit hall. As soon as they were alone, Marisse turned on him.

"Why did you include that photograph in the exhibit? The Maverick's Rose?" he demanded, voice low but seething.

Andrew raised an eyebrow. "It was a tribute. To Rose."

"You didn't think about the repercussions? About what that photo might stir? My name---our brand---caught up in scandal, in whispers about a past best buried."

Andrew exhaled, the calm slipping from his face, replaced with something gentler. "I didn't think that far ahead. I just... I wanted to honor her. She was a friend, Marisse. She was kind to me when no one else in her world was. She---she died that day. The same day we all agreed to start this company. Wasn't she a part of making that plan too?"

Marisse blinked.

The words fell like a blade, slicing through time itself.

"What did you say?" he asked, voice cracking.

Andrew looked puzzled. "Rose died. That same week. You didn't know? There was an accident. She was on one of her father's smaller vessels, returning from the islands. There was a storm. It capsized. They never recovered the body."

The air vanished from Marisse's lungs. It felt like the floor had opened beneath him, dragging him down through memories and regrets. He gripped the camera at his side as if it were the only thing tethering him to reality.

Dead.

Rose was dead.

The knowledge struck him with a cold, cruel finality. And now, Jax's offer wasn't just about memory. It was resurrection.

Seven days.

Seven photos.

Seven chances.

And perhaps---just perhaps---a way to stop what had already happened.

*******