Chapter 48

Aurora was captivated by the apartment's one-apartment-per-floor design—no neighbors, and complete privacy from those using the stairs. The more she explored, the more she loved it, and she decided to buy it on the spot.

The manager grinned. “This house totals four million dollars, Ms. Crawford. Will you be paying in full or taking out a mortgage?” A substantial commission awaited him either way.

“In full,” Aurora replied, producing her bank card. The manager eagerly accepted it, retrieving the purchase contract and a POS machine from his briefcase. Within twenty minutes, the transaction was complete.

He smiled. “Ms. Crawford, the house is officially yours. When are you available to visit the property registration office to finalize the transfer?” Appointments were necessary, though their agency could schedule it; the buyer’s presence was still required.

Aurora nodded and provided her phone number. “Call this number when it’s time.”

The manager carefully saved the number, then discreetly departed, even deleting his fingerprints from the smart lock.

Margaret, however, voiced her opinion. “Rory, this is only the first place you’ve seen. How could you decide so quickly? Don’t you want to see a few more?”

She huffed, flopping onto the sofa. Rory wrapped this up so fast. Is she trying to kick me out already?

Aurora produced a cake, quickly improving Margaret’s mood.

“Alright. I forgive you,” Margaret said, affectionately linking arms with Aurora. “How could I stay mad at you, Rory? You’re my favorite.”

Aurora had never encountered such easygoing company. A single cake had pacified Margaret. Watching Margaret devour it in two bites, Aurora chuckled.

“Okay. I’ll tidy up later and invite you back,” Aurora said, guiding Margaret to the elevator. They descended to the property management office.

The system was networked; the staff immediately knew the house was sold. “Ms. Crawford, we’ll clean the entire house, inside and out, as requested,” one of them assured her.

Aurora discussed renovations and prepaid five years of property management fees. The property manager personally escorted her to the door.

Shortly after leaving, she saw a pregnant woman struggling down the road, pushing a heavily laden cart. She appeared to be moving.

The afternoon sun baked the pavement. Sweat streamed down the woman's face, leaving dark rings around her neck.

The real estate agent had mentioned the neighborhood's strict access policy: only residents or their guests were permitted entry.

Recalling her own experience and observing the woman, Aurora frowned.

“Let me help you with this.” Aurora took the cart, guiding the woman to a shady bench.

The woman wiped her sweat, cradling her aching belly, and offered a grateful smile. “Thank you so much.”

Margaret, slightly slower to react, offered a water bottle. The woman initially refused but accepted it, her discomfort evident.

Once the woman had cooled down, Aurora asked, “Why are you moving all this by yourself? Where’s your husband?” The woman’s pregnancy—seven or eight months along—suggested her husband's irresponsibility.

What kind of husband would allow this? Aurora wondered, her expression souring.

Irene Hansen explained, “My husband’s very good to me. He recently offended someone, and they falsely accused him of botching a company project. We lost our savings, and he was fired without compensation. He’s trying to recover our money.”

Aurora’s expression softened. “Aren’t you a resident here? Why not ask the property staff for help?” She assumed anyone affording this neighborhood wouldn't lack funds, and assistance from the staff would be easily obtained.

Irene sighed, speaking bitterly. “The house was provided by the company. Now he’s been fired, they won’t let us stay.”

Two hours earlier, the company had issued an ultimatum: vacate or face eviction. With her due date two weeks away, Irene feared eviction and its potential consequences. They had packed and left.

Margaret stomped her foot, cheeks flushed, fists clenched. “That company is so terrible! All of them are bad people!”

Irene laughed at Margaret’s reaction, recognizing her innocence. She agreed the company was terrible.

After resting, Irene began walking toward the neighborhood entrance, Aurora pushing the cart. Margaret, still agitated, asked, “What’s the name of that company?”

Irene had no intention of protecting them. “Sunrise Pharmaceuticals,” she replied. “My husband is the production department manager.”

Sunrise Pharmaceuticals, a Mereida powerhouse in alternative medicine synthesis, was considered a prestigious employer.

Aurora’s eyes narrowed. She recalled a scandal involving Sunrise Pharmaceuticals in her previous life—a nationwide scandal.

It involved the general manager covering for his embezzling nephew, blaming a production manager, Giles Hansen. Giles lost everything, was fired, and repeatedly ejected from the company when he demanded answers. Tragically, his pregnant wife had an accident while moving, resulting in the loss of both mother and child. Later, the scandal broke, causing Sunrise Pharmaceuticals’ stock to plummet.

Aurora silently calculated, uncertain. Could this pregnant woman be her?

She remembered Sunrise Pharmaceuticals' attempts to suppress the scandal, but Giles had apparently cooperated with a rival company, using the scandal to bring down Sunrise Pharmaceuticals, ultimately leading to its acquisition by its largest shareholder.