Capítulo 15: Chapter Fifteen- Double Shock
My eyes scan the room frantically as I take in the sight before me. The cold breeze from the open door sweeps in, making my hair fly around my face. I shiver, despite the warmth of the day.
The living room, which was already scanty before, now looks like a battlefield. The sofa cushions have been ripped apart, tufts of stuffing spilling out like guts. The coffee table is overturned, its lone leg broken and jutting at an awkward angle. The smell of broken wood fills the air.
It looks like a tornado has swept through my living room.
My heart thuds painfully in my chest as I glance around, afraid to take another step forward. Is someone still here?
I freeze, listening intently. The silence feels deafening, like the air is holding its breath. But I don't hear anything—not a shuffle, not a creak. Slowly, I force myself to move, tiptoeing over the shopping bags, every nerve in my body on edge.
As I move, the floor creaks beneath my feet, making me jump. I clutch my bag tightly and peep into the door on the left, seeing that my tiny kitchen isn't spared either. The cupboard doors hang open, plates thrown carelessly to the ground. A shattered mug lies in the corner, and it looks like someone threw it across the room in anger.
I swallow hard, bile rising in my throat.
Who would do this? Perhaps it was a burglar? But my apartment is practically empty, there's nothing here worth stealing.
And why would a burglar bother to leave the house scattered? Different possibilities come to my mind, each one darker than the last. Wait, could it be—? No, that's not possible, or is it?
I step back cautiously into the living room and head to the door on the far right. My bedroom. Whoever did this could still be in there. I need a weapon.
I double back to the kitchen to grab a frying pan.
I clutch it tightly with my two hands and hold it high above my head, ready to strike, as I move back to the bedroom.
The door is slightly ajar, and I nudge it open with my foot, my breath hitching as it creaks loudly.
The scene inside is worse.
The mattress has been yanked off the bedframe, lying askew with the bedsheets twisted and half-dangling onto the floor. My tiny wardrobe is wide open and clothes are everywhere—strewn across the floor, tangled together.
Even my bedside table has been toppled, its drawer pulled out and emptied, leaving my diary, a few pens, and loose change scattered across the room.
I edge further in, my pulse pounding in my ears. My eyes dart to the corners of the room, half-expecting someone to jump out at me. But it's empty. Completely empty.
I hear a beep and I jump, making the frying pan go clattering to the floor. My face turns white before I realize that the beep came from my bag which I'm still clutching tightly.
I fumble in it for my phone and I see a text just came in. The message makes my legs grow weak as I read:
Nice dress you're wearing, Aria. Green would match your eyes better though. Surprised by the mess? Just a little visit, when you were out shopping. I've changed my mind about the deadline. Pay me before Halloween, or you're done. Don't bother running; I'll find you.
What the...?
A second text follows immediately:
"Leave a wreath on your door when you have my money ready, I'll come get it. Oh, and don't try anything funny, like getting the police involved. I will know."
He's been watching me. He knows what I'm wearing, where I've been shopping... He is somewhere near right now.
Without thinking, I push the door open and run out of the bedroom, into the living and towards the front door.
As I get to the door, I collide into a solid figure in the doorway who is coming in. I stumble backward, my heart pounding furiously.
He's here.
I look up to see Mr. Crane's driver standing in front of me, a surprised expression on his face. "I'm sorry, miss," he says, holding out a shopping bag. "You forgot this one."
I try to speak, but my words come out in a jumbled mess. "H-he...my apartment...someone's been..." I stammer, my voice shaking with fear.
The driver's expression turns serious. "Miss, what's wrong?"
"In...Intruder came in...I have to get out of here, please...t-take me away."
"Do you want me to take you back to the office?"
I shake my head frantically, my eyes welling up with tears. "N-no...just...just take me away from here. Please. "The driver nods, his face sympathetic. "Okay, miss. Let's get you out of here."
The driver gestures to the shopping bags on the floor. "Do you want to grab anything else, miss?" he asks, his voice gentle.
I shake my head, still trying to process what's happening. "N-no...just get me out of here." He nods and drops the bag in his hands. He's a mature man, probably in his early fifties, with a kind face and hair which is showing traces of grey at the roots..
He leads me to the car and opens the passenger door for me. After, he moves to the trunk and keeps the bags inside. As we drive away from the apartment, I feel a sense of relief wash over me. But it's short-lived, as my mind goes back to the scene in the apartment.
He has managed to break into my house twice now. And I've been having feelings of being watched several times, coupled with the cryptic phone call the other day.
My head is throbbing and I lean back against the headrest.
Maybe I should just ignore his threat and go to the police? But knowing the kind of person I'm dealing with, that would probably just make it worse. He would outsmart the police, any day, anytime.
Halloween is just two weeks away. How do I get such a huge sum of money to pay my debt before then? And then there is also the fifty thousand dollars for Josh.
The driver sneaks a concerned look at me in the rearview mirror, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Where can I take you, miss?" he asks. I shrug, still shaken. "Anywhere."
The driver nods, his expression sympathetic. He's about to say something else but then he looks back to the road again. I shut my eyes and stay that way for about five minutes when I hear his phone ring. He pulls up at the side of the road answers it, and I hear him say, "Yes, sir?"
There's a pause, and then he lowers his voice to something close to a whisper before talking again. I only catch bits of the conversation. "We've gotten back from the clothes store...forgot a bag...situation at her house...close to tears..."
He lowers his voice even more before continuing "She is with me, sir. She's...ah...a bit shaken." I wonder what Mr. Crane is saying on the other end of the line. Is he asking about me? About what happened?
The driver listens for a moment, then says, "Yes, sir. Right away." He hangs up the phone and gives me a little tap on my arm, which makes me open my eyes. "Mr Crane says I should take you to his regular hotel, miss." I nod, still feeling dazed. Better there.
He starts the car again and we're back on the road. We drive for about half an hour before he pulls up in the hotel parking lot.
This is the same hotel where I accompanied Mr. Crane on a business trip three days ago. I step out of the car at the same time as the driver, and I say "Thank you uh...?"
"Sebastian. My name is Sebastian."
"Thank you Sebastian."
He gives a little smile. "You're welcome, miss. Take care of yourself."
I watch as he drives away, then turn to enter the hotel. The cool air-conditioned air envelops me, and I feel a sense of calm wash over me. I approach the reception desk, where I'm greeted by the same receptionist who checked us in last time.
She's a slender brunette with a clipped tone. "Can I help you?" she asks, smiling only slightly, as if it's forced. Today, she's dressed in something that looks like an air hostess uniform in navy blue, complete with the necktie and cap which rests on her head and makes her bun shoot out from behind. The name on her tag says 'Amanda'.
"I'd like to stay in Mr Crane's suite, please. Mr Crane of the Crane group of Companies." I say, trying to sound confident. "I'm Mr. Crane's secretary. I...I have been with him here before, just three days ago. You remember me?"
The receptionist raises an eyebrow. "I don't remember you," she says, even airily, as if shrugging me off. "And I'm afraid I can't allow you access to the suite without Mr. Crane's explicit permission...or his special pass card."
I hesitate, unsure of what to say. I don't have any pass card, and the receptionist's expression turns dismissive. "I'm afraid you'll have to wait until Mr. Crane arrives," she says. "Or make other arrangements."
I stand there, feeling unsure of what to do, when I hear a voice behind me. "Excellent timing," I hear that smooth voice which can only belong to one person. "I see you're attending to my secretary."
I turn to see Mr. Crane standing behind me, a woman hooked on his arm. She's laughing up at him, her eyes sparkling with amusement. I feel a shock run through me for the second time today. Who is this woman? And why is Mr. Crane with her?
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