Chapter 9
465words
Loki helped me from the car. Strangely, this place that had once been my prison now felt like the perfect stage for what was to come.
The front door flew open, and a woman rushed down the steps in clicking heels. "Loki! Where the hell were you last night? I called and texted but you never—"
Her words died as she froze mid-step, eyes widening in shock.
What a delicious expression.
"A-Alice?"
Cynthia's shock morphed to fury as she lunged forward, hand raised to strike.
Loki caught her wrist mid-swing. "That's enough, Cindy."
I bit back a laugh, arranging my features into a mask of fragility. "I don't feel well, Loki."
Loki's attention instantly shifted. "Here, let me get you to the sofa."
He brushed Cynthia aside like an annoying insect and swept me into his arms.
Cynthia's face contorted with such rage I thought she might spontaneously combust.
Loki set me down with exaggerated gentleness.
Cynthia's eyes welled with tears. "Loki, we're married now. Why would you bring her back into our home?"
"Cindy, Alice is hurt. She needs time to recover."
I gazed up at him, deliberately vulnerable. "Loki, I have nowhere else to turn. Could I stay just for a little while? For old times' sake? This was my home once too..."
Loki nodded eagerly. "Of course, Alice. I'll have the guest room prepared immediately."
"No!" Cynthia shrieked. "She's your ex-wife! Have you even considered my feelings in this—"
"Cynthia Kim!" Loki's voice cracked like a whip, and she flinched into silence.
I watched their drama unfold with detached amusement. Why was she so terrified? Wasn't I just the discarded prototype?
Cynthia shot me a venomous glare before storming out, heels stabbing the marble floor.
Loki turned to me, all tender concern. "What else do you need? I'll get you anything."
I shrugged. "A phone. And maybe some food."
"Of course." He knelt before me, his expression pained. "Don't disappear again, Alice. I still need you in my life."
Looking at him kneeling there, I experienced a flash of déjà vu—him proposing in that crowded auditorium years ago.
This time, I merely smiled, saying nothing.
Once alone in my room, I locked the door and called Lance on the new phone.
"Alice! Christ! Where are you? Are you injured? What happened? Whose number is this? Never mind—just send your location and I'll extract you immediately!"
"I'll send coordinates later. Don't rush over yet."
The operation had failed spectacularly. Father would be livid. I massaged my temples, debating whether to let his rage cool before returning.
"Are—are you actually safe?" His voice held rare uncertainty.
"Don't you trust me?" I laughed softly. "I'm not just safe. I'm front row at quite the entertaining show."
