Chapter 4
1393words
"Hey, fellas and gals!" he shouted with a thick accent on his first day in the gymnasium, arms spread wide. "Ready to get those muscles moving?"
Scarlett Thorne and Celeste Shaw exchanged an undisguised look of disgust. Maya stood at the edge of the crowd, curiously examining this strange man whose appearance diluted the suffocating elite atmosphere of the place, bringing a touch of absurd liveliness.
Logan's teaching method was even more peculiar. He seemed to have no interest in traditional sports, but instead was passionate about inventing strange games that forced these pampered children to engage in physical contact. He made Scarlett race while carrying Celeste on her back, and had a normally quiet and reserved boy chase after Maya. His gaze constantly wandered among the children with an evaluative and probing quality, lingering especially long on Scarlett and Celeste. Once, he even "accidentally" rolled a ball to Maya's feet, then walked over to strike up a conversation: "You run very fast. Is there something chasing you in your heart?"
His question came out of nowhere, leaving Maya feeling confused and uneasy. This seemingly simple-minded physical education teacher had a sharpness in his eyes that completely contradicted his outward appearance. He used exaggerated behavior as a cover while quietly gathering the intelligence he wanted. Serafina, through the surveillance system and Maya's daily reports, had listed him as an uncertain factor that needed attention. His purpose was unclear, but his interest in Anya's social circle before her death was far too obvious.
Just as Logan Grant was stirring up the waters of Vanguard Academy in his own way, Serafina's husband Julian Thorne was entangled with his mistress Cassandra Sterling in his secret love nest—another penthouse apartment in Manhattan. The existence of this apartment was an unspoken secret among the elite circle of Paradise Tower, the ultimate symbol of a man's wealth and power—he could not only possess the most beautiful woman in the world but also provide a luxurious and discreet sanctuary for this illicit affair.
Everything in the apartment followed Julian's will—cold, hard lines, black, white, and gray tones, with enormous floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the brilliant lights of New York City. He and Cassandra had been performing their passionate drama for many years.
"Marcus is attending another medical symposium?" Julian took a sip of whiskey, his bare chest showing defined contours in the dim light as he asked casually.
"Who cares?" Cassandra lounged lazily in his arms, her fingers tracing circles on his firm abs. "I only know that his hands that hold surgical knives are far less interesting than your money-making hands." Her laughter was coquettish and unrestrained. They felt no guilt about each other's spouses; their union was an alliance between the powerful, filled with contempt for conventional rules.
They didn't know that, at the other end of the city, another pair of eyes was coldly observing everything. The Private Investigator hired by Serafina was an expert at his craft, using drones and telephoto lenses to clearly present this sordid scene on Serafina's computer screen. Looking at the intertwined bodies on the screen, Serafina felt no jealousy, only the calm satisfaction of a hunter who had locked onto her prey. Every kiss, every caress between them would become evidence presented in court for their future disgrace.
Serafina selected several photos with the most damning angles and explicit content, which clearly documented the faces of Julian and Cassandra, as well as their uninhibited intimacy. These photos were of extremely high resolution, clear enough to see the priceless diamond necklace on Cassandra's neck—a gift from Serafina's husband. She created an untraceable anonymous email account, attached these photos, and entered Dr. Marcus Shaw's work email address as the recipient.
Marcus Shaw, New York's most renowned cardiac surgeon, a man known for his rigor, composure, and perfect family. Serafina could imagine the impact this sudden anonymous email would have on him when, exhausted after a difficult surgery lasting over a dozen hours, he would open his inbox to respond to academic emails.
With a gentle click of the mouse, "Send" was completed. The first bullet of revenge had been precisely fired toward the enemy camp. Serafina didn't attack Julian directly; that would have been too rash. What she intended to do was first clip his wings, to drag his most prized mistress into the mire of a family scandal, making her proud identity as the Vanguard Academy heir precarious. She wanted to create internal chaos among them first.
A few minutes later, Serafina's phone vibrated once. It was a message from the detective: "Target has viewed the email."
Marcus Shaw almost immediately clicked open that email. In the brightly lit office of the hospital, this doctor who had just snatched a life from the hands of death, suddenly turned deathly pale. He stared fixedly at the screen, as if trying to burn two holes through those photos. The woman in the photos was his beloved wife, the opera diva he regarded as his life's pride, and the man pressing on top of her was equally familiar to him—Julian Thorne, his wife's "close friend," the father of his daughter's classmate.
He enlarged the photo over and over, trying to find a trace of forgery in that distorted image, but every detail mercilessly pierced through his self-deception. That apartment, that man, that expression of desire on his wife's face that he had never seen at home... everything was real. He felt dizzy and had to lean on the desk to avoid falling. The calmness and steadiness he maintained in the operating room vanished in this moment, replaced by the immense humiliation and anger of betrayal.
That night, when Cassandra returned home, she wasn't greeted by her husband's usual gentle embrace, but by a cold and silent house. Marcus sat in the dark living room, holding an untouched glass of wine, his eyes terrifyingly gloomy.
"Darling, why aren't you turning on the lights?" Cassandra asked uneasily.
Marcus did not answer, he just raised his head and looked at her with a scrutinizing and suspicious gaze that she had never seen before, a gaze that made her heart tremble. The smell of suspicion permeated the air, a storm was quietly brewing.
And Serafina, the instigator of this storm, was now knocking on Elena Vance's door with a plate of home-baked cookies. Elena and Maya had just moved in, and their home was still somewhat messy with many unopened boxes stacked around.
"Serafina! Why are you here?" Upon seeing Serafina, Elena's face immediately filled with a grateful yet awkward smile.
"I baked some cookies and wanted you to try them," Serafina smiled gently as she walked into her apartment, her kind gaze falling on Maya. "Maya, are you adjusting well? Is anyone bullying you at school?"
Serafina's tone was filled with elder-like care. Elena's eyes instantly reddened, as she saw Serafina as the only support and savior for mother and daughter in this cold world.
"You're so kind," she accepted the cookie, her voice choked. "I don't know how to thank you. Being able to stay here is incredible for Maya."
"We're neighbors, helping each other is what we should do." Serafina gently patted her hand, her eyes full of sincerity. "Besides, managing a household and maintaining a marriage is never easy. My husband... he's very busy with work, we rarely have time to sit down and talk."
Serafina aptly revealed a trace of resignation and loneliness as a wife, which instantly bridged the distance between Serafina and Elena, making her feel that Serafina, just like herself, was also enduring various hardships in family life. She looked at Serafina, her eyes full of sympathy and understanding, as the last bit of wariness toward Serafina completely dissipated.
She would never know that just hours ago, Serafina had personally ignited the fires of hell in another family. And she and her daughter were merely the next tools carefully selected by Serafina to pry open her enemy's fortress.
"Indeed," Elena sighed, completely falling into Serafina's trap, "men are always like this."
