He stepped forward, his gaze settling on Alice with an intensity that made her uneasy. There was something about the way he looked at her—steady, unreadable—that sent a strange discomfort creeping up her spine. She couldn’t quite place it.
Without a word, he signaled his driver with a slight tilt of his chin. The man gave a curt nod and returned to the car. Then, closing the distance between them, the stranger turned his attention back to Alice.
"I apologize," he said smoothly. "He was handing over a document, and I failed to anticipate his distraction. It was my fault."
His voice was calm, composed—almost too careful.
Alice narrowed her eyes. "Why would you make him do that while he’s driving?" she snapped at him. Maybe it was a kind of defense mechanism. To show he didn’t make her uncomfortable.
"I’m sorry," he said again, quieter this time. His expression held something close to sincerity, and for a fleeting second, guilt pricked at her for lashing out.
She exhaled sharply, glancing back at the dent. It wasn’t terrible, but still, a dent was a dent. How did the wealthy handle these things? Did they just throw money at problems and move on? Do they say, ’hey, it’s fine, I have enough money to fix my car myself,’?
Before she could figure out how to broach the topic, he spoke again, almost as if reading her thoughts.
"The Estate’s car service will pick up your vehicle and have it fixed before evening," he said. "If you’re injured, we can also stop by the hospital. I heard there’s now a good clinic here."
The repair—yes. The hospital—absolutely not.
However, he had said he ’heard’.
"You don’t... live here?" She asked suspiciously. How would he handle the car fixing if he didn’t live here? He wasn’t going to make her pay for it would he?
"I’m going to resume living here from today. I’m just moving back in now. Didn’t expect to cause an accident." He looked embarrassed.
Alice continued to eye him with suspicion.
"Like I said, I am willing to take you to the hospital—"
"I don’t need a hospital," she said, shaking her head.
But his gaze flickered downward, settling on her neck. "You’re hurt," he observed, his voice still gentle but laced with something else.
Alice frowned and turned to her reflection in the car window. Her breath hitched. There, clear as day, was the mark left by Hades. She quickly tugged her collar higher, covering it.
"It’s nothing," she said quickly.
He didn’t look convinced. But instead of pressing, he slipped a card from his pocket and handed it to her.
She took it hesitantly, glancing at the name.
"Hardy Cresswell," she murmured.
Her stomach tightened. That name—it sounded like something she should know. She looked at all the details in the card. He was a prosecutor. One who worked directly under the president’s office.
Her gaze snapped up to him, studying him with renewed wariness. He was young. He looked around the same age as her. From her Northern perspective, he was too young for his position. But that wasn’t what unsettled her most.
It was the mere fact that he was a prosecutor.
Law people... she didn’t like meeting any of them for any reason.
She was even further unsettled when she met his gaze and noticed how his expression remained neutral, but his sharp brown eyes never wavered from her. She lifted her chin slightly, forcing confidence into her posture.
"My family lives in Block D," he said. "I haven’t been back in six years, but you don’t have to worry—I won’t disappear. Your car will be repaired tonight. And if you reconsider the hospital, I’d be happy to take you."
Right beside Hades’ apartment.
Her fingers tightened around the card. "Thank you," she said carefully. "I live in Block A."
If he was surprised by the revelation that she lived in the estate’s most exclusive section, he didn’t show it. He didn’t ask any unnecessary questions, either.
Taking that as her cue to leave, she turned and got back into her car. But as she pulled away, she caught him watching her through the rearview mirror. His gaze followed her, steady and unreadable, until she was out of sight.
She forced herself to shake off the unease creeping into her bones.
Meanwhile, as Hardy slid back into his own car, he met his driver’s gaze in the mirror.
They exchanged no words.
But the look they shared said enough.
Then, without a sound, the car rolled forward, disappearing down the street.
Alice had never known a day to feel so endlessly long. The weight of everything threatened to suffocate her—the legal mess she was caught in, Hades and his dangerous games, Pricillia’s threats. Everything pressed down on her like a storm waiting to break.
She had thought about reaching out to Suzy concerning the legal, but uncertainty gnawed at her. Could she really trust her? Also, Aurora was supposed to be the best. Asking Suzy for help was like proudly announcing that she was an imposter.
Every instinct screamed at her to be careful. There were too many layers to unpack, too many uncertainties clouding her judgment. For now, she needed to focus on the most immediate threat: the legal case.
If she failed in this, she was as good as dead.
Sitting at her desk, she dragged another thick legal book toward her, flipping through the pages. The words blurred together, an endless maze of jargon and formality that made her head throb. It was like looking at a sleeping potion. A very effective one. Every word she saw made her eyelids grow heavy. Every time she thought she found something useful, it led to another rabbit hole of confusion. Desperation drove her to check online, but the vast amount of information only overwhelmed her further.