Annelise Valentine gritted her teeth, her gaze finally landing on the huge floor-to-ceiling window that led to the balcony.
An absurd and helpless idea popped into her head.
'Climb out the window!'
Here she was, in her own home, having to climb out a window just to leave?! The more she thought about it, the more ridiculous it seemed.
But right now, it seemed to be the only way to leave unnoticed.
Her room was on the second floor of the manor. Below the balcony was a manicured lawn. The height wasn't too outrageous, and with the skills she'd picked up from climbing trees and scaling walls to skip class as a kid, it shouldn't be a problem.
The main issue was the mental hurdle. It was just too humiliating!
She cursed Jett Westgate a hundred times in her head, then took a deep breath and, like a nimble cat, cautiously leaned out.
Just as she had most of her body dangling off the balcony and was about to let go and jump—
"Need a hand?"
A low, steady, and slightly lazy male voice suddenly came from diagonally above her.
Annelise Valentine froze. She raised her head very, very slowly, inch by inch, toward the sound.
On the balcony of the next room, Jett Westgate stood wearing a soft, light-gray lounge set. The clothes were loose, the collar a bit wide, but his superior shoulder width and upright posture made it look incredibly stylish.
He was leaning against his balcony door in an utterly relaxed posture, holding a cup of what looked like steaming… milk? Or something?
Seeing Annelise remain silent, he spoke again.
"Or," he paused, his eyes measuring the distance between her and the ground, "should I pass you a ladder?"
Annelise: ...
Hanging from the railing, his "helpful" suggestion nearly made her choke. 'How did he find me?! When did he even come out here?! And he's just standing there in his pajamas with a cup of milk, watching the show!'
At this point, the die was cast.
She gritted her teeth, steeled herself—
'Forget it! I'm jumping!'
THUD! With a not-too-loud thud, she landed steadily on the soft lawn below. Other than her ankles feeling a bit numb from the impact, she was uninjured.
Not daring to linger for a second, she broke into a run toward the cars, her ponytail flying behind her.
Without looking back, she burst into the garage, quickly found her car, yanked the door open, climbed in, started the ignition, and slammed on the gas!
Only to find—
The steering wheel was gone!
Annelise was stunned for two seconds, then a horrifying suspicion crept into her mind.
She shoved the car door open, rushed to the SUV next to it, and pulled open its door—
Just as she expected, its steering wheel was gone too!
Refusing to give up, she ran to the third car, then the fourth…
「Five minutes later.」
Annelise stood in the center of the garage, so angry she was seeing spots. She kicked the tire of a nearby sports car, which produced a dull THUMP.
Jett Westgate had actually removed the steering wheels from all her cars?!
Jett. Westgate!
Up in his second-floor bedroom, Jett Westgate stood by the window. He picked up a freshly poured glass of warm water, took a slow sip, and then a triumphant smile spread across his face.
'Trying to run?'
'This little wildcat is still too naive.'
Annelise didn't stay idle. She strode toward a partitioned area in the back of the garage.
A black heavy-duty motorcycle was parked there.
She had bought the motorcycle on a whim a few years ago. After a minor accident while street racing where she took a nasty fall, combined with her family's strict prohibition, she gradually stopped touching it. It had been left in the partitioned-off area to gather dust ever since.
She took a deep breath, walked over, whipped off the dust cover, and inspected the bike.
Good. It still had half a tank of gas and seemed to be in working order.
She put on a helmet, mounted the motorcycle, and roared out of the garage.
VROOOM—!
As the engine roared, she felt a long-lost thrill.
Annelise did a loop, deliberately driving to the spot below the balcony.
Seeing the light on in Jett Westgate's bedroom, she didn't hold back. Instead, she twisted the throttle hard.
VROOOM! VROOOM—!
Annelise even maliciously laid on the horn a few times!
BEEP—! BEEP BEEP—!
Hearing the noise, Jett Westgate ambled onto the balcony. He put his hands in his pajama pant pockets and said nothing, simply standing there and quietly watching Annelise, who was looking up at him defiantly.
His glare was fierce, filled with a controlling desire, as if to say: 'I dare you to try and leave!'
Anyone else might have been intimidated by such a stare.
But her whole point was to provoke him.
'Removing my steering wheels? So childish!'
'I am definitely leaving tonight!'
Her provocation delivered, she ignored him, gunned the engine, and sped out of the manor.
On the balcony, Jett Westgate stared in the direction she had disappeared, unmoving for a long time.
The night wind rustled his bangs and the hem of his clothes.
Then, he let out a soft chuckle and turned back into his room.
***
When Annelise Valentine arrived at Zane Patterson's penthouse, the place was a complete mess.
Zane Patterson was half-lying, half-propped up on the living room sofa, his eyes closed and his brow furrowed in obvious discomfort.
Chloe Fairchild and Sean Conrad were flanking him, trying to force-feed him a cup of suspiciously colored honey water.
"Zane, just one more sip, just one! It'll help with the hangover!" Chloe Fairchild said, jabbing a spoon toward his mouth.
"Zane, open your mouth! I'm begging you!" Sean Conrad pleaded, holding the cup with a miserable expression.
The two of them were sweating profusely, looking completely frazzled.
Hearing the door open, they both looked over at the same time.
"Annelise?! You're finally here! He's driving us crazy!"
Sean Conrad also started complaining:
"Annelise! You have no idea! Zane went completely nuts tonight! By himself, all by himself! He downed eight bottles of whiskey! Standard-sized bottles! Eight of them! Holy cow! When Chloe and I got there, there was a mountain of empty bottles in front of him, and the look in his eyes was terrifying..."
Chloe Fairchild picked up the story, "We tried to get him to stop drinking, but he wouldn't listen, like he was deaf! Then Ezra Quinn and his gang of bastards showed up. They were running their mouths, saying some messed-up stuff. We didn't catch everything, but it was definitely nothing good... and Zane just exploded! We couldn't hold him back!"
"Later, after Jett Westgate took you away, Sean and I brought him home. But as soon as we got back, he started throwing up. We were just trying to get him to drink some honey water for his hangover."
Annelise had a pretty good idea of what happened that night.
Ezra Quinn was known for being arrogant and having a foul mouth. Zane Patterson had taught him a lesson a few times before, and Ezra had held a grudge ever since. Tonight, it seemed their paths had crossed again. They were both drunk, and that's how the fight started.
Zane Patterson knew kung fu; the average person was no match for him. Ezra Quinn probably never expected Zane to actually beat him that badly. Clearly, he messed with the wrong person tonight.
Annelise walked over and took the cup of suspiciously colored and viscous "honey water" from them.
She brought it to her nose and sniffed. Something felt off.
She carefully took a small sip.
"BLECH—" She almost threw up.
"You two! What is this stuff?"
Chloe Fairchild and Sean Conrad exchanged a glance. "Honey water!"
"Where did you find it?"
Chloe pointed toward the kitchen. "We scooped it out of that brown ceramic jar on the shelf."
Annelise wanted to facepalm. She walked into the kitchen and, sure enough, saw the ceramic jar on the counter, open and nearly half-empty.
She picked it up, sniffed it carefully, and roared—
"This is fucking lard!"