Chapter 9
Marguerite wasn’t the only one having a sleepless night.
Hannah was also tossing and turning in her bed.
She had seen the trending news about Theobald. She had assumed that when he said he had “something to do,” it was a major business crisis.
She never imagined his “something to do” was shopping with another woman.
No wonder he hadn’t sent more money after she ignored the first hundred thousand.
He had a new flame.
But how could that be? He was so utterly devoted to her.
Finally, unable to resist, she sent Theobald a message.
[Theo, were you out shopping with someone else today p>
Theobald didn’t reply.
He was fast asleep. He usually had no trouble sleeping and could pass out the moment his head hit the pillow.
But the ringing of his phone at four in the morning woke him up.
He rolled over, his long arm reaching for the phone on the nightstand.
The screen displayed an unknown number.
Theobald had a habit of answering all unknown numbers. His old missing person posters for Aaron had listed his personal number. The deluge of spam calls had eventually forced him to switch it to Anna’s, and then to his secretaries’, but his own number had remained unchanged.
Someone might have seen an old poster and was calling now.
Theobald sat up, his voice raspy as he answered. “Hello p>
There was a second of silence, then a deep, emotionless male voice spoke. “I’m looking for Marguerite. Is she there p>
Theobald’s brow furrowed. “Who is this? What do you want with Marguerite p>
She had only just returned. Who would be looking for her in the middle of the night? Веер. Веер. Веер.
The caller hung up without another word.
Confused, Theobald called the number back, but there was no answer.
In the darkness, his expression grew heavy, all traces of sleepiness gone.
He opened WhatsApp and finally saw Hannah’s message.
He frowned again.
Had Hannah seen him with Marguerite?
Unlikely. If she had, she would have messaged him then, not after midnight.
Another possibility occurred to him. He opened Twitter, and it all became clear. A paparazzo had caught them.
He rarely used Twitter or watched short-form videos; Anna would normally summarize any relevant news for him. Why hadn’t she
seen
mentioned it? Had she not
either? It was too late to ask her
now.
Theobald’s thoughts returned to the mysterious phone call.
He fiddled with the black rosary beads on his wrist.
Was it an old acquaintance of Marguerite’s who recognized her from the photos?
But why call at four in the morning? And why hang up and not answer when he called back? Follow current novᴇls on
Could it be Joshua?
Joshua had pursued Marguerite for
three years, I was plausible he could recognize her from just a profile and her back. That man wa hot only a womanizer but also used Hannah to stir up publicity. He was bad news.
Marguerite probably still had feelings for him. He couldn’t let Joshua get near her again.
Theobald’s temple throbbed. He blocked the number that had just called.
He thought about replying to Hannah but figured she was probably asleep. A message at this hour might wake her.
He put his phone down and fell back asleep.
Although Marguerite was curious about Theobald’s late-night caller she didn’t have a habit of eavesdropping. She went to the living room, drank some water, but didn’t return to her room.
Since sleep was impossible, she wandered out onto the second-floor balcony and
rested her chin on her hand, gazing at the sky.
At four in the morning, Northpine was utterly still, like a sleeping dragon.
The sky was a hazy gray, with low visibility.
Because of this, she didn’t notice the car parked on the street below the villa.
Nor did she see the pair of clinging, obsessive eyes watching her from inside.
The air was cool, carrying a faint scent of blood. A sharp pain pulsed from his palm. But the handsome man’s eyes were filled with exhilaration.
Veins stood out on his temples, not grotesquely, but with a strange, demonic beauty.