She answered a phone call. Exposing her voice in that way was risky.

Oh Kwami, her awful luck has worsened today. The situation has become even more complicated. She found it hard to breathe as she scrambled on the floor, her only hope staring at her in disbelief. Alya gaped, stunned by the unfolding events. 

“Alya, I don’t know what to do! I picked up the phone. His brother believes we knew each other. Ugh, this is a nightmare.”

With a hopeful look towards her, she trotted and cajoled her best friend, wiggling like a frantic fowl.

”I really wish this is just a nightmare I’ll wake up from. Alya, could you slap me, please?”

Her vacant eyes stared at the monocle girl, her hand clasped in hers.

Alya brows knitting, face pensive while glancing at her best friend, she made her seat on the sofa.

“We can discuss this from the start, Mari. “

She slipped into her reporter role with wild joy. Her BFF is back and interrogating her like a pesky photographer.

She recounted the events leading up to the phone call. Screw her. She just got no sleep for her commission project that will be debut in this evening’s grand celebration.

She had just returned from delivering a gift to her honorary uncle, Jagged Stone, when she accidentally bumped into a stranger and took his phone by mistake.

Probably his searching her phone cracking it right now. Her secrets would be unravel with a precision of the lock being pick.

“Marinette, come back to me; We can call your number through him .”

“YES! Alya, you’re a blessing! She cried out.

Alya’s black sleek phone with a ladybug charm is the perfect disguise, making it unlikely for anyone to believe she’s Ladybug with all the memorabilia and her unique reporter act.

She swiped left to call , hearing a long beep. Silence breeds mounting dread and a sense of what’s to come. Is the stranger about to answer the phone?

Marinette’s teeth chattered, hands trembling. She didn’t know how to react. Her whole life is in brink of another breakdown if she got another felon account for this.

Her catastrophic thoughts Number one :They’ve been tracked, and the police are en route.

Peering through the window at the cobblestone streets, scanning for any suspicious individuals only to spot the cars and pedestrians going about their daily activities.

Or worse… an American military-grade operative starts banging on their doors — like something out of an action movie. Maybe the guy’s rich, or deep undercover, willing to do anything just to recover his phone.

Oh Kwami—she put Alya’s secrets in danger. The Miraculous. She staggered back, heart racing. “I’m such an awful friend… no. I have to fix this.”

She’s pacing and fidgeting in the living room, clearly frantic.

Marinette, this is her life in constant panic.

Circling on the mat, she stared at Alya—phone in hand, blinking, beeping. The call wasn’t going through. Just a blip. No reception.

It seems like he is not answering.

Marinette’s eyes twinkled; a realization dawned. Of course! Her phone, only at 4% when she bumped into the stranger, had finally died.

Marinette, nothing is going right. Unresponsive phone, a rich asshole’s phone, decisions, decisions.

She gazed at the Parisian skyline from the balcony. Argh, her life was spiraling. Tracking him herself was a possibility for her. Desperation might push her to use those skills. No.

Alya stared. “Mari, I recognize that expression,”

”The face know I can hack his phone and find him instead face “she stated.

Marinette looked guilty.

“Don’t do that. Promise you won’t do shady things anymore.”

”Remember when you tried to hack Lila’s phone cause she’s close to Adrien, and worse you try to sabotage their photoshoot.”

”Well, She’s asking for it. That conniving bitch has made her claws to Adrien and his uncomfortable, I’m just trying to”.

“What for, Mari? We’ve talked about this before. I know you don’t have to like her—honestly, even I get irritated with how she wraps the whole class around her finger. But hacking, Mari… that’s not the way. It’s not just wrong—it’s not you.“

She tried to calm down their argument, knowing that Alya was worried about her, and even more so that Lila was ruined her chance with Adrien by revealing her stalker behavior that brought her to this point.

”Of course, Alya! No need to worry, I’m clean and I won’t be doing that stuff again, hehe. Please.”

Her stern expression softened. “I think you need to rest, Mari. You’re about to fall asleep right here on the floor.”

Marinette looks at the floor and her mind racing.

”Wait what time is it? No, Maman Will kill me, I need to get home now, I promised her to help them on the gala this evening, Merde!”

This is the only time her mother has asked her for a favor, and she’s messing it up, not even during the reception yet.

Distracted by her missing phone, she worried about the major problem facing her tonight.
She needed to go back to the bakery.

”Alya I need to go the Gala tonight.”

Her best friend’s eyes gleamed.

“Mari, this Gala is a significant event, and you got a free pass—lucky you! Consider all the big names attending. I heard the Wayne heir will be there tonight.”

Alya’s cheeks flushed as she looked at the skyline, a small, knowing smile on her face—lost in a memory.

”The who?” Her foggy mind fumbled—Wayne? Then she remembered the phone. The Wayne who owned this high-tech device? She stared at it, something tugging at the edges of her memory, but she couldn’t quite bring it to the surface.

“You know the Waynes—the billionaire philanthropists? Well, Marinette, I know you’re not into high society, but keep up—tonight, you’re attending, and you’re serving them the finest pâtisserie in all of France!”

“Aah, I guess—thanks for the compliment,” she said with a sheepish smile, hugging her best friend tight with a friendly labise before saying goodbye.

Ahem.

With a raised eyebrow, Alya looked at her, one hand hovering near as if to search her.

Mari hesitated, a look of consternation on her face. Then it hit her. Right.

Wincing, she searched her pockets, eventually retrieving a haphazard assortment of pilfered items: a toothbrush, a pin, a charm, and Alya’s favorite fountain pen.

“…Sorry, Alya,” she murmured, holding them out with a guilty look. “A habit, I guess.”

“I know,” Alya sighed, gently taking them back, as Marinette awkwardly shuffled her feet—mentally retracing every little thing she had swiped without even realizing.