Chapter 321
Remembering how she'd groveled at Kieran's feet in her past life, it felt alien–nothing like who she was or should ever be. Back then, her attitude toward Kieran and the Argent family had been downright servile. Now, it was a complete transformation.
This was the lesson Kieran taught her: No matter how desperate or helpless a woman feels, she should never pin all her hopes on a man. Mountains crumble; people flee. Especially a man whose heart wanders freely. Only what you hold in your own hands is truly secure. Even if she only earned three thousand a month later, that money would be hers–earned by her own hands.
This time, she would never again surrender her choices or future to Kieran. Never.
Alaricka coldly eyed Kieran’s incoming call flashing on her phone, then rose to wash up.
Half an hour later, she emerged from the bathroom hopping on one foot, clad in loose pajamas. Towel drying her hair, she leaned against the wall for support, slippers scuffing the floor. Bending over, she pulled a hairdryer from the nightstand. Its hum filled the room as warm air blew across the sofa–perfectly temperate. Alaricka closed her eyes, lulled by the drone.
Suddenly, an odd noise pierced through. At first, she dismissed it as ordinary. But as the sound grew louder and more frequent, her eyes snapped open. Pinpointing its origin at the front door, she switched off the dryer, frowning intently.
Silence fell. The disturbance outside sharpened into clarity.
Thud! Thud! THUD!
Not knocking–pounding. As if shaking the walls themselves.
Tamika’s wary voice cut through: “What do you want? Keep this up and I’m calling the police!”
Alaricka immediately braced against the nightstand, grabbed her crutch, and hobbled out.
“Mom, what’s happening?”
“Why are you up?” Tamika rushed over, supporting her arm. “It’s late. Rest that injured foot–no wandering around.”
Alaricka shook her head. “I’m fine. Who’s out there?”
The pounding continued. Tamika turned and scolded, “Stop! I mean it- I’ll call the cops!”
Alaricka studied the door, brow furrowed. “Who is it?”
Their rental apartment was in an old building–paper-thin walls. If this racket didn’t stop, neighbors would complain even if they didn’t call police. This violent hammering… it felt like debt collectors. Or revenge. The only families they’d had conflicts with were the Argents and the Whitakers.
Alaricka’s eyes grew serious. Perhaps someone had come about her online post.
She nudged Tamika back. “Mom, go to your room.”
Tamika Coldberg seemed to instantly see through her thoughts, gripping her arms tightly with both hands. “No, you can’t go out. Who knows who’s out there? Opening the door could be dangerous.”
Alaricka patted Tamika Coldberg’s hands, speaking softly. “Mom, I won’t go out. Don’t worry.”
Tamika Coldberg pulled her back by the wrist. “Alright then, let’s hide in the room and call the police. We’ll wait until they arrive.”
Alaricka instead grasped Tamika Coldberg’s wrist. “Mom, no rush.”
Alaricka had begun to suspect the identity of the person outside. She suddenly remembered the barrage of calls from Kieran Argent. An inner voice insisted that the person outside was Kieran Argent.
As if confirming her suspicion, the knocking at the door abruptly ceased. Alaricka’s brow twitched slightly as she stared intently at the entrance. Her heart lifted with tension.
Moments later, a familiar voice came from beyond the door. Just as she’d thought earlier, the building’s soundproofing was poor. Noises from neighbors, footsteps on stairs, chopping sounds from cooking, arguments, even the cries of cats and dogs carried clearly. Tamika Coldberg had complained about this countless times.
So, though the voice outside wasn’t loud, Alaricka heard it distinctly.
“Alaricka Huston, open the door.”