Chapter 45 No More Old Flames?
The car door shut, and Aaron leaned back into his seat, eyes closed with fair fingers idly resting on the armrest. As the car moved out, shafts of light flooded the interior, gliding over his sharp jawline.
Wesley, sitting shotgun, turned and reported in a hushed tone, "Aaron, Miss Patterson left the hospital in Colin Harris’s car; he drove her home."
Colin Harris.
Aaron slowly opened his eyes.
An hour later, they drove into a residential area where the street lamps were sparse and far between, the green belt thick and shadowy, casting an almost eerie darkness around.
The apartment complex had been erected fifteen years ago, and the security gate was rudimentary—a fact Wesley, who had dabbled in such systems, exploited to gain easy entry, the iron barrier clanging open with a decisive sound.
Casting a significant glance Wesley's way, Aaron raised his eyebrows, prompting a swift clarification from Wesley, "Haven't used it anywhere else."
They rode the elevator up to Eleanor's floor, Wes having addressed the longstanding hallway light issue just the evening prior, where it had frightened Eleanor. He'd made a point of finding the building manager, and within the hour, the lights were replaced—sensitive to sound, now they shone brightly.
Knock knock.
Silence from within.
Yet a sliver of light peeking through the door's edge insisted someone must be home.
Aaron frowned and gestured towards Wesley, who promptly retrieved a key from his briefcase and handed it over.
The key turned in the lock, and the door swung open.
Blake's right eyelid twitched. He threw a discreet look at his brother before taking position beside Wesley, flanking the doorway.
Inside, the living room and kitchen lights were on—an open floor plan with a partition that now served as Eleanor's unintended resting place. There she lay, her arm draped over the divider, a boxed cake by her hand along with a glass of water and an open pillbox.
Eleanor had drifted off.
She'd made extra cupcake batches while preparing a cake for Colin Harris, planning to share them with coworkers the next day.
Nora adored her cupcakes, devouring several in one go, then playfully chiding Eleanor for tempting her away from her diet plans.
But Eleanor had sorely underestimated the cold seizing her. It seemed better in the afternoon, yet post-baking, her body felt hollow. She'd eaten something, taken her medicine, and rested in the chair with every intention to soon retire to bed.
She hadn't expected to fall asleep there.
Her arm rested across the partition, her delicate face pressed into the crook of her elbow, features so refined they never distorted, even in sleep. Without her guard, her cuteness and vulnerability only seemed more pronounced.
A man's hand reached out, feeling her forehead.
The fever was gone.
In her slumber, Eleanor felt a coolness against her brow—an unwelcome sensation. She shifted, burrowing her face deeper, her eyelashes fluttering briefly before stilling once more.
Aaron's hand followed her movement, his index finger gently hooking to tap her nose.
It reminded him of the family estate's cat—a pristine white creature belonging to his uncle's daughter, with eyes like blue glass beads, and a nose just as soft. Touching the cat's nose, it would nuzzle contentedly, showing a rare compliance.
Quite unlike her.
Stubborn as a mule, one that not even ten could tame.
Five minutes later, Eleanor's door shut.
Simultaneously, Eleanor herself opened her eyes in bed.
She rolled over, a mix of emotions in her gaze as she looked towards the door.
She had already awoken the moment Aaron's hand touched her forehead, startled at first by the reflection in the glass across from her. Recognizing Aaron, she had quickly decided to feign sleep to see what he would do.
But he didn't do anything, really. He simply checked her forehead, tucked her in, and left. Just left?
So what did he really want?
Leaving without another move, Aaron got in his car and drove out of the residential area, heading for Midhill Hospital.
Vincent lay on the hospital bed scrolling through videos when the screen suddenly switched to an incoming call from an unfamiliar number.
As she was about to dismiss the call, a text popped up, "What, giving up on your old flame?"
Vincent's hand trembled, and she hastily deleted the text, a cold sweat breaking on her back. But the phone rang again.
She disconnected the call.
And it rang yet another time.
Her face paled instantly, irritation flickered in her eyes, and with a swift swipe, she answered.
"What's the matter, Miss Thompson of the high and mighty family, done with your play and now ignoring me?"
Vincent snapped, irritation clear in her voice, "I told you not to contact me. You've been paid."
The other voice was clearly displeased with her response, "C'mon, it was just an engagement. Even if you get married, it's no big deal. Miss Thompson, who's all for a thrilling ride even with a threesome, why the sudden prudishness?"
Thinking back on her history, Vincent gripped her hair in frustration, "What the hell do you want?"
She'd lost her senses that day. The night before she had hinted that Aaron wanted her, even donning sexy lingerie under her clothes. But Aaron was indifferent. After having too much fun overseas and feeling the itch, she'd impulsively contacted an old fling. Regretting it afterward, she'd paid him off.
"I missed you. Since you've blocked me, I had to use someone else's phone to call you."
Vincent had no patience for his nonsense, "Get to the point. How much money do you want?"
"Nice and straightforward. I want fifty million."
"You're insane!" The amount was outrageous. Fifty million—was he out to commit daylight robbery?
Anticipating her reluctance, the caller said nonchalantly, "It sounds like a lot, but if it's for Miss Thompson's X-rated videos, it's a bargain."
Vincent's face turned ashen, "You recorded videos?"
"Just thought they'd make a good memento, something to look back on. After all, Miss Thompson, you're quite the spice in bed—I enjoyed it a lot. Never thought they'd come in handy like this. It wasn't intentional," he said with a hint of mockery.
"Cut the crap!" Vincent exploded, not caring about her image, "You filmed that video to blackmail me? Dream on about getting fifty million!"
"What if I send the video to Aaron? Or better yet, broadcast it online for everyone to admire Miss Thompson's stunning figure? Doesn't seem like a bad idea at all."
Aaron, the idea of it going viral...
Just thinking about either possibility sent shivers down Vincent’s spine. She had fallen for Aaron at first sight and her affection for him was only growing. She was determined to marry him, and she couldn't let this scandal ruin everything!
"Fine, I'll pay you," she conceded.
Suddenly there was a knock at the door, which startled her so much that her heart raced. In a flurry, she ended the call just as Aaron walked in.
He immediately noticed Vincent's panic.
"Feeling unwell?" Aaron's long strides brought him into the room before he turned to Wesley, "Go get the doctor."
"No need," Vincent pinched herself covertly, trying to calm her nerves. She gathered herself and rose from the bed, and walked demurely over to Aaron.
"I'm fine. I just got scared watching some horror clip on my phone. I wish I hadn't watched it; it was too much," she cooed, snuggling up to Aaron.