Chapter 24 Are you protecting him?
Eleanor gripped her phone, not uttering a word.
With a snap, Aaron flipped the lid of his lighter closed.
His eyes moved from the glowing screen of the phone to her, "Edward?"
He exhaled a plume of smoke languidly and slowly reached for the doorknob.
"No," Eleanor spun around, grabbing his sleeve in urgency, "It's not Edward. Please, don't hassle him."
Aaron released the doorknob, and with a soft click, she realized that he was only closing the door that had been ajar.
He looked down at her hand gripping his sleeve, her fingers visibly white from the force of her grip – all for Edward.
Edward's firm voice echoing in his head: "I like her."
"Why would I trouble him?" Aaron's gaze lowered to meet her eyes, waiting for an answer.
Eleanor let go of his arm, her hands falling to her sides, fingers nervously pinching the fabric of her dress.
"Well?" he prompted, gently lifting her chin to make her look at him. She had been drinking, her cheeks flushed—a rare beauty amidst the neon and nightlife, with many eyes upon her.
"Are you protecting him?"
"No," she blurted out inadvertently.
"Then what is it?"
Eleanor felt an overwhelming pressure from Aaron, his patience astonishingly vast tonight, as if he wouldn't rest until he unearthed some truth from her.
Her phone rang again, still that unfamiliar number. She frowned and dismissed the call once more.
Aaron's gaze narrowed slightly.
"If you don't make things clear, you're not leaving tonight," he threatened.
"It's a harassing caller," Eleanor confessed.
Two minutes later, Aaron made a call with a sullen lookn. He dialed Wesley.
While he was speaking, Eleanor twisted the doorknob and attempted to make her exit, but he caught her by the arm with one hand, all the while barking orders at Wesley on the phone and pressing her against the door.
"Who let you get so cheeky?" Aaron hissed.
There was a momentary pause from Wesley on the other end. "Aaron?"
"It's taken care of. Go handle it," Aaron said curtly before ending the call.
He released Eleanor. "I'll be waiting outside for you."
She blurted out, "My friend's been drinking; I can't let her go home alone."
"And?" Aaron's expression was icy.
Eleanor knew better than to defy Aaron; a man who meant what he said. If she dared to refuse, Aaron would not hesitate to cause a scene and drag her to his car right then and there. She didn't want to even imagine the embarrassment.
But she couldn't just abandon her friend Nora's safety. "You have someone take her home."
Aaron silently studied her for a moment, then let out a grunt and stormed out, door slamming behind him.
Inside the car, Aaron loosened his cufflinks while Wesley handed him a tablet. "Aaron, here's the surveillance footage from the bar alley. I’ve isolated the clips featuring Miss Patterson."
"Mhm." Aaron took the tablet and hit play.
Moments later, the tablet was sent flying across the car.
Wesley, who was sitting in the driver's seat, broke out in a cold sweat, a shiver running down his spine.
Eleanor, with the help of a tall man in a black suit, lifted Nora from the couch. "Miss Patterson."
The moment Eleanor turned and saw his face, she hesitated, then recalled that this was Blake, Wesley’s twin brother.
She had initially mistaken him for Wesley, but Blake's demeanor was stiffer, a man of few words, unlike Wesley who was more polished and often wore a smile. It had been odd initially when she heard Blake used to be called Jameso – a name that didn't match his tough persona – before he changed it to what it was now.
Eleanor realized then that Aaron must've arranged for Blake to escort Nora home.
"Thanks for the trouble."
Without a word, Blake hoisted the intoxicated Nora effortlessly, as if she weighed no more than a feather.
With his assistance, Eleanor managed to get Nora into the car and only after that did she make her way to Aaron's vehicle, parked about 500 meters away.
When Aaron parked the car near the entrance to Eleanor's building, she held the car door, murmured a "thank you," to which Aaron merely grunted in response, absently playing with his Green Diamonds ring, and his gaze briefly followed her silhouette.
"Did you catch them?"
"Yes," Wesley replied.
…
Exiting the elevator, Eleanor made her way down the hallway. The motion sensor lights had been out for days, leaving the corridor enshrouded in darkness, with only the faint glow from the emergency exit signs providing some illumination.
Suddenly, a silhouette appeared at her doorstep.
Her heart raced and she ran without thinking.
"Eleanor, it's me."
The shadow spoke with a familiar voice.
Eleanor paused, turned around, and as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she recognized the man before her.
It was Edward, wearing a black jacket over a white hoodie, his gaze kind, holding something in his hand.
Eleanor let out a shaky breath, still on edge, as Edward offered an apologetic smile, "Sorry, did I scare you?"
Shaking her head, her pulse still racing from the fright, she tried to appear nonchalant, "No, it's just me being jumpy."
After tonight's ordeal, she was shaken up, half-expecting another creeper to show up.
Thankfully, it was Edward.
"I just got here and when you didn't answer your phone or the door, I was worried something happened to you, almost called the cops," he joked, lightening the tense atmosphere from before.
Eleanor then realized her phone had shut off.
Her phone must have died without her noticing due to a barrage of spam calls earlier that day.
"I heard from Grayson you're originally from City G. I've just returned from a trip there and brought back some local snacks you might enjoy," Edward said as he handed her the food container.
It was substantially hefty.
"Do you want to join me for a bite?" Eleanor asked, feeling awkward for accepting so many treats.
Edward shook his head, "I've been overeating these past couple of days. Glad to see you're alright. I should be going."
With a smile and a farewell that seemed to suggest his visit was just to deliver the food, he left.
Back inside, Eleanor opened the container to find warm dishes: Wiener Schnitzel, a side of Mexican-style pickled vegetables, Banh Mi.
At the very bottom was a bowl of Feijoada.
Her all-time favorite comfort food.
She took a spoonful, finding it as authentic as the dim sum she enjoyed as a child with her father.
After all these years, the taste hadn't changed.
Her eyes moistened as warmth filled her heart.
...
In an abandoned concrete factory on the outskirts, a man covered in blood lay motionless.
"Help... please..."
Wesley kicked the man over. He landed face down, no longer able to make a sound.
His eyes half-closed—not from reluctance to shut them, but from fear of being struck again if he did.
These people were brutal, beating him mercilessly.
He spat out a mouthful of blood, finally clearing the airway that had been blocked.
Terror filled the man's eyes as he trembled and pleaded for mercy. "I've told you everything, confessed everything... Please... please spare me."
Aaron flicked his cigarette to the ground, and said. "Seems like you love flaunting that little toy of yours. Why don't you cut it off and hold it in your hand to your heart's content?"
The gleam of the blade flashed coldly, and the man, barely clinging to life, suddenly found the strength to scream for help...