C16 What Do You Want in the Middle of the Night?

Gasping for breath and reeking of sweat, I delivered the ball to the fifth-floor ballroom. Mateo approached me anxiously, while the one responsible for my disheveled state lounged comfortably on the leather sofa in the rest area, legs crossed atop the coffee table, casually smoking and enjoying piano music.

One thought dominated my mind: What a jerk!

"I'll give you a ride back," Mateo offered, already donning his coat, signaling the end of the event.

He exchanged a brief greeting with Wesley, who, for once, didn't interfere.

As we stepped outside and approached the car, Mateo hesitated, likely catching a whiff of my stench. I noticed his pause but didn't want to cause any discomfort.

"I'll grab a cab."

Mateo responded with an awkward tone, "I'd feel terrible about that."

I chuckled, "Don't worry about it. I'm not going to stand on ceremony with you. If you can help me close the deal on those three apartments tomorrow, I'd be eternally grateful."

"Deal," Mateo said, climbing into the car but then rolling down the window. "By the way, Aveline, how did you manage to get into his company?"

I shrugged nonchalantly, "I just did."

Mateo seemed skeptical, considering my past. The idea of a convicted murderer being employed by Wesley's company was indeed hard to fathom.

His look towards me grew complex and thoughtful.

I wasn't interested in his opinions. I waved him off and hailed a taxi from the curb.

All I wanted was to get home as quickly as possible, with no other thoughts to burden me.

Back at the apartment, I grabbed some clothes and headed for the shower, only to discover a large, painful swelling on my waist.

I had no quarrel with him, yet he had struck me with such severity.

Post-shower, clad in my cotton outfit, I went down to the pharmacy to buy some medicine and applied it to the tender area.

Dahlia's call came through, "Were you out with Mateo today?"

Wincing as I sprayed the medicinal spray on my waist, I replied, "Yeah, he agreed to the three apartments."

Dahlia hesitated before speaking, "He's the same as he ever was, not an easy man to deal with. And even if you need to use his influence, it's not easy to come by. He doesn't have much clout in their family business."

I got Dahlia's point and responded softly, "Yeah, even if I needed a man's help, I wouldn't turn to him. I've got my own strategy figured out."

"Okay, I've got a banquet tonight, so I won't be able to keep you company. Be cautious around Mateo. If you can handle it, do it. If not, we'll devise another plan."

"Got it. Take it easy yourself, and try not to overdo it with the drinks."

"Mhm." Dahlia seemed on the verge of adding something else, but after a brief pause, she chose silence and ended the call.

The medicine brought a cooling sensation to my waist wound, a welcome relief from the bone-deep pain I had felt earlier.

I devoured a cup of instant noodles, my fingers and waist throbbing with pain, and then collapsed into bed, falling asleep instantly.

Sleep was the only time I didn't feel the pain—an insight bought with blood and tears during my time behind bars.

I'm not sure how long I was out before the relentless vibration of my phone on the nightstand jarred me awake.

The moment I stirred, the pain made its presence known once more.

Annoyed, I glanced at the phone screen, saw an unfamiliar number, and cut the call, eager to return to sleep.

But as soon as I settled down, the phone rang again.

I buried myself under the covers, waiting for the ringing to cease on its own.

Yet the caller was persistent, dialing again as soon as the line went dead.

At my wit's end, I grabbed the phone and snapped, "Who the hell is this? Can't you let a person sleep at this ungodly hour?"

"It's me." The man's voice was low and resonant, as if traveling across the vast expanse of the night sky.