Chapter 3

• My cheeks burned with humiliation as I caught a glimpse of Burgess looking at me with an inscrutable expression. Despite being involved in the altercation, he distanced himself completely, as if the entire situation were beneath him.
• In his eyes, I must have looked ridiculous in my current state. The thought filled me with a surge of anger and resentment, but I refused to show any sign of weakness in front of him.
• With a sneer, I turned to face Burgess, a taunting smile playing at my lips. I then directed my attention to mother, making a zipping motion across my lips to indicate that I would keep quiet. Without another word, I turned on my heel and made my way out of the estate, my departure decisive and unwavering.
• Outside, the rain poured down mercilessly, the wind lashing at me with unrelenting force. Despite the biting cold, I welcomed the discomfort, preferring to freeze to death than endure another moment of humiliation in the Harrison household.
• The road stretched before me, the urban area seemingly miles away. With no subway or bus in sight, and the ride-hailing app canceling all orders due to the heavy rain, I found myself stranded.
• Clutching my phone tightly, I sought shelter under a nearby tree, contemplating whether to wait out the storm or brave the rain and continue on foot. The night grew darker and more ominous, the sky shrouded in thick clouds.
• As I stood there, stomping my feet in an attempt to ward off the chill, a car pulled up beside me. The driver emerged, holding an umbrella, and approached me with a tentative smile.
• "Miss Oprah, he asked me to take you home," he said, his voice barely audible over the roar of the rain.
• I took a few steps back, eyeing him warily. "I don't know him," I replied, my voice tinged with suspicion. After all, in a situation like this, trust was a luxury I couldn't afford.
• As I stood there, drenched in the relentless downpour, a sense of unease gnawed at the pit of my stomach. Deep down, I knew he was the one who had been anonymously sending me those packages. But how did he know I was here? Did he have someone constantly following me?
• My suspicions only grew when the driver made a phone call, informing someone, “"Sir, Miss Oprah doesn't trust me and doesn't want to get in the car." It felt like a subtle threat, a reminder of his power and influence over me.
• When the driver hung up, I received a message from him. "Get in the car. No one will harm you."
• Surprisingly, his text provided a small semblance of comfort. Yet, I couldn't shake off the feeling of apprehension that gripped me.
• Despite my reservations, the rain continued to pour down relentlessly, each drop feeling like a heavy weight upon my shoulders. And when a bolt of lightning tore through the sky, illuminating the darkness with its fiery glow, I knew I had to make a decision.
• With a sigh, I finally relented and got into the car, the leather seats cold against my soaked clothes. Inside the confines of the vehicle, I couldn't help but feel a sense of vulnerability, as if I were at the mercy of forces beyond my control.
• Desperate for answers, I turned to the driver, hoping to glean some insight into the mysterious man who had orchestrated this entire ordeal.
• "You must know who he is, don't you?" I pressed, my voice trembling with a mixture of fear and frustration.
• But the driver remained tight-lipped, refusing to divulge any information. "Miss Oprah, please don't make it difficult for me. I've never met him either," he replied, his tone cautious yet firm.
• With no other recourse, I resigned myself to silence, the questions swirling in my mind left unanswered. Who was he, and why was he harassing me? What did he want from me?
• As the car sped through the rain-soaked streets, I couldn't help but ponder the motives behind his actions. What kind of man relentlessly pursued a woman like me, despite his apparent wealth and status?
• The answers eluded me, shrouded in mystery like the stormy night outside. And as we continued on our journey, I couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that lingered in the air, a dark cloud hovering over me like a harbinger of impending doom.
• ***
• I finally arrived back at my rented room, the exhaustion weighing heavily upon me. Without bothering to change out of my soaked clothes, I collapsed onto the sofa, feeling utterly drained.
• Reaching for my phone, I checked for any new messages, but apart from the unsettling message from him, there was nothing. Not even a single message or call from mother to check on me. It was a bitter reminder of how little she cared for her own daughter.
• But what was even more absurd was that a stranger had been the one to safely escort me back from the rainy night. It was a stark contrast to the indifference shown by my own family.
• After a hasty shower, I crawled into bed, hoping to escape into sleep and forget the events of the day. But my respite was short-lived, as a high fever gripped me in the middle of the night, leaving me delirious and disoriented.
• I fumbled for some fever-reducing pills, swallowing them down until the fever subsided in the early hours of the morning. Exhausted and weak, I decided to take a day off from work and retreated back to bed.
• In the midst of my groggy slumber, the sound of the apartment bell jolted me awake. I stumbled to the door, expecting to see mother on the other side. Instead, I was met with the sight of Burgess standing there, his presence sending a shiver down my spine.
• Ignoring him, I retreated back to bed, hoping he would take the hint and leave me alone. But to my dismay, I heard the door open and his footsteps drawing closer.
• Pretending to be asleep, I peeked out from under the blanket and saw Burgess standing by the bed, holding a key in his hand. His usual cold and arrogant demeanor sent a wave of irritation coursing through me.
• "Did my mom give you the key?" I snapped, glaring at him.
• "She was worried about you and asked me to come and check on you," he replied coolly.
• I scoffed inwardly, incredulous at my mother's sudden concern for my well-being. If she truly cared, why hadn't she bothered to call me herself?
• Well, now that you've seen me, please leave,” I said coldly, urging him to leave. But he remained stubbornly by my side, his gaze lingering on my pale face.
• Burgess stared at my face, seeming unbothered at what I just said and asked me, "Are you feeling unwell?"
• "It's none of your business," I retorted sharply when he inquired about my health.
• "Why do you speak to me like this?" he countered, his tone icy.
• Frustration bubbled up within me at his persistent presence. "How should I speak then? Why don't you teach me, Mr. Harrison?" I shot back, unable to contain my irritation.
• His face hardened at my words, an oppressive aura enveloping him. Sensing his reluctance to leave, I couldn't help but provoke him further. "Why aren't you leaving? Are you reluctant to leave your stepsister here alone?" I taunted, hoping to drive him away.
• But instead of backing down, Burgess suddenly reached out and grabbed my chin, his touch sending a shiver down my spine.
• “Shut up,” he breathed out.