It was eleven o'clock at night. The Cedar Ridge Villa was quiet. After returning that afternoon, Tillany had taken a nap, but she wasn't sleepy now. She even had a video call with her brother. He excitedly told her how Thalia had stunned everyone at today's rehearsal, even sending a video. Tiffany admired it for a while, smiling.
Indeed, although Thalia was in her forties, her skin looked extremely good; she had taken excellent care of herself. Her temperament was impeccably graceful and elegant. As a dancer, Thalia seemed born to dance. Every performance radiated an indescribable aura and beauty. They weren't returning tonight because of tomorrow's official event, which was fine.
After hanging up, Tiffany lazily rose and went to the balcony. She looked up; the villa's streetlights intersected, the surroundings silent. She read for a while, then, sensing something, raised her head and looked out the window before turning off the light. The bedroom plunged into darkness, the curtains only a thin layer of white gauze, allowing faint moonlight to shine through.
Tiffany sat in the shadows of the balcony, casually playing with her exquisite, light bow, "Galaxy." Since Richard had given it to her, she hadn't used it. "Could I practice tonight?" she mused, waiting patiently. Unknowingly, ten more minutes passed.
Tiffany felt sleepy when very soft footsteps came from downstairs—someone strolling on the grass. Moments later, the sound was close, at the French window. A hand carefully opened the curtains; a slender figure jumped in silently, landing expertly.
Tiffany held her breath, hiding in a dark corner, sizing up the intruder with interest. "Your skills aren't bad," she thought. "I wonder if you can withstand a beating."
After entering the bedroom, he went straight to the bed. Tiffany nocked an arrow, aiming at his rear. "Don't turn around," she whistled. The arrow flew. The intruder instinctively turned, but too late. The arrow struck his buttock. Had he been quicker, he might have suffered a more serious injury.
"Ow!" he cried. Tiffany clapped, switching on the lights. She continued to size him up. He was dressed in black, slender, handsome but somewhat villainous. His striking silver-gray hair caught her attention—extremely lustrous and charming.
He stared at Tiffany, his slightly upturned eyes hinting at charm and amusement. "Tsk, you're not cute at all. You're so ruthless," he said flirtatiously.
Tiffany replied, "Tsk, you're not smart at all. Your reaction is too slow."
He choked. What if I'd reacted quickly? he thought. Head-on, I'd be crippled!
Tiffany, uncaring, drew her bow again, smiling faintly. "Where should I aim next?" she asked. The arrow was aimed at his chest—lethal!
He dodged easily, surprised and playful. "You're ruthless, but this is interesting." He rushed at her, moving incredibly fast, a blur. Tiffany's archery was accurate, but she couldn't aim at him.
He grabbed her throat. "You're smart, guarding me, shooting unexpectedly," he said, his amorous eyes cold. "Think you'll kill me with that? Too easy. Since you impressed me, I'll be neat." His smile was devilish, his voice a whisper.
He tightened his grip; Tiffany's face reddened. She didn't struggle, smiling devilishly. "Wrong," she said clearly and firmly. "It's your turn to beg me now."
He looked down; his hand was turning black—poison! Before he could react, Tiffany counterattacked, stabbing him with a switchblade. He retreated, but she pressed forward. She might not have been his physical match, but the poison weakened him. Within two minutes, she held the switchblade to his throat, a drop of blood appearing.
"Don't worry, I'll be as neat as possible, too," she mimicked.
He surrendered. "Don't We can discuss this!"
"What value do you have?" Tiffany asked. "Perhaps I'll spare your life." She didn't want bloodshed.
He considered, then looked up, his eyes shining. "I'll agree to anything."
Tiffany sneered. "If I want you to work for me, will you agree?" She expected refusal, but he smiled devilishly. "Where do you want me to work?" He glanced at the bed.