“You heartless little thing,” Stephan muttered, propping himself up with one hand and leaning close to Felicia on the couch. For a fleeting moment, they were almost touching. In his dark, piercing eyes, Felicia glimpsed something possessive—a tyrannical thirst for control, tinged with predatory hunger, a domineering sense of ownership, as if he wanted to brand her his.
But just as quickly, he pulled back, ruffling her hair before standing and walking away. That intense gaze, the unspoken promise of a kiss, seemed an illusion.
Felicia snapped out of it, realizing her nervousness was laced with a faint excitement. A part of her, she admitted, had secretly hoped he would kiss her.
Shaking her head, she grabbed her laptop and opened the villa's surveillance footage from the previous night. The cameras, installed long before she moved in, covered every corner, leaving no blind spots.
She tried to recall the events, her memory only extending to falling asleep on the rooftop terrace. She had no recollection of walking such a distance. Without the undeniable evidence of the footage, she wouldn't have believed it.
Frowning, she zoomed in. Throughout the sleepwalking episode, her eyes remained closed, her actions guided by some unseen force. There was even a faint expression of resistance on her face.
A dull ache throbbed in her head. Was her problem physical or psychological? Then, a sudden memory struck her: the faint sound of a bell ringing right before she lost control. Where did that sound come from? Could it be connected to her sleepwalking? And if so, who was behind it, and what did they want?
Taking a deep breath, Felicia resolved to remain vigilant. She called the villa's property management, reporting a suspicious person lurking nearby the previous night—a fabricated story, but it prompted the manager to promise enhanced nighttime security.
After hanging up, she sighed in relief. The following days were calm. She didn't hear the bells again, nor did she sleepwalk. This brought her comfort. Even Maurice, usually behaving like a madman, hadn't appeared.
Amidst her busy schedule, Felicia occasionally thought of Stephan. Since their encounter, he hadn't reappeared. There were occasional calls and messages, but the calls were always abruptly cut short. His last text, three days ago, simply read, "Miss me?"
Even through the phone, she could picture his mischievous expression. She hadn't replied.
Yet, in moments of idleness, her thoughts wandered to him, to where he might be, what he might be doing. No matter how hard she tried to suppress it, some thoughts were uncontrollable. She sighed, throwing herself back into her work, hoping to redirect her attention.