Chapter 123

The elevator doors slid open with a soft ding.

Emily Johnson stepped out quickly, her high heels clicking urgently against the marble floor. She couldn't shake the feeling of being watched—like unseen eyes followed her every move. But each time she glanced back, the hallway stretched empty behind her.

Am I just being paranoid? She tightened her grip on her purse strap.

Her phone buzzed suddenly. An unknown number flashed on the screen:

[Red looks good on you today.]

Emily froze, her blood turning to ice. She was wearing a red dress—one she’d pulled from her closet just this morning. No one could have known.

At the far end of the hall, a security camera rotated silently, its red light blinking in the dimness like a malevolent eye.

She quickened her pace, fumbling with her keys. The metallic scrape of the lock echoed too loudly. Just as the door shut behind her, she thought she heard—

A quiet laugh.

"Who's there?" Her voice trembled.

Silence.

Back pressed against the door, Emily slid to the floor. Her phone buzzed again. She didn’t want to look—but she had to.

A second message:

[Don’t be afraid. We’ll meet soon.]

Outside the window, a shadow flickered past without a sound.

"Michael, we couldn't be more grateful!" Samuel Bright clutched the money he'd just received, his fingers trembling slightly. The sum was more than he'd earned in the past year.

Michael Stone's sharp gaze swept over the three men. "We might have drawn attention," he murmured, voice barely audible. "Stay sharp from now on."

Daniel River immediately straightened. "Don't worry, Michael. I only gave my parents twenty dollars and told them I'd made fifty."

"I didn't even buy new clothes," Samuel added, thinking of the malt extract his grandmother and sister had been savoring so carefully at home.

Charles Clark suddenly flushed red. "I... I bought Daisy a lipstick..."

Three pairs of eyes locked onto him.

"A five-dollar lipstick?" Michael's brow furrowed. "You might as well have announced you struck gold."

Charles looked as if he'd been struck by lightning. Now he understood why Daisy's family had suddenly raised the dowry.

"Daddy!" Two little bundles of energy burst into the room, shattering the tense atmosphere.

Emily Johnson stood in the doorway, a dust cloth still in her hand. The temperature in the room seemed to have plummeted.

"Samuel, your sister knows how to knit, right?" Michael abruptly changed the subject, scooping up little Tommy as he rushed toward him.

Samuel blinked. "Yeah, she learned from the village women."

"Have her come teach your sister-in-law tomorrow."

When the three men left, Emily noticed the change in their eyes—what had once been disdain had turned to something like awe.

Late that night, Michael stoked the fire in the kitchen. The wood crackled and popped.

"Mommy," David whispered, burrowing under the covers and blinking up at her with wide eyes. "Why don't you let Daddy sleep here?"

Emily's hand jerked, nearly tipping over the enamel mug.

"Did you two fight?" Tommy piped up in his tiny voice, scooting closer.

The moonlight spilled through the window, illuminating their innocent faces as they stared at her expectantly.

Emily's throat tightened. How could she explain that this "husband" was a complete stranger to her?

In the kitchen, the water reached a boil, the lid rattling as steam escaped—much like the turmoil in her heart.