Chapter79 Whatever You Want
Those words "whatever you want" echoed in Miranda's mind like a thin ice shard, stabbing her heart with coldness.
She shook her head. This wasn’t the time to think about that; she had more important things to deal with.
Miranda picked up her handbag, wasted no more time, left the Prescott manor directly, and drove to her company.
As soon as she stepped through the company doors, Miranda keenly sensed something was off.
The usually relaxed and lively office area was now unnaturally quiet. Several employees huddled together, whispering over their phones. Seeing her enter, they instantly scattered, each burying themselves in work, though their eyes couldn't help glancing her way.
Lisa walked out of the break room carrying a cup of coffee. Seeing Miranda, even her usually composed face showed a rare trace of worry.
She quickly approached, lowering her voice to a minimum: "Miranda, the online situation..."
Miranda shook her head. Her cool face showed no emotional fluctuation, her voice as calm as still water: "I saw it. Don't worry, just focus on work."
She paused and added: "I'll handle it myself."
This statement was like a reassurance pill, making Lisa and the employees eavesdropping nearby inexplicably relieved.
Miranda said nothing more. She strode in her heels straight into her office and shut the door with a "bang," cutting off all outside scrutiny.
Inside the office, Miranda sat down at her computer.
She didn't look at those vile comments but directly opened the backend code interface.
Back in college, she'd studied computer technology. Though not a hacker, she could create a small program to identify trolls.
After all, trolls had uniform IPs and scripted talking points. Using a small program would make finding them much faster.
Those hands, usually gentle and charming, now flew across the keyboard as lines of code flashed across the screen.
Miranda stared intently at the computer screen like a hunter tracking prey through a massive data network.
Time passed minute by minute.
Outside the window, the sky went from bright dawn to scorching noon to orange dusk, finally swallowed completely by thick night.
Everyone in the company had left. Only her office light remained on.
On the screen.
An IP address and information about the troll company behind it were clearly listed.
Following this thread, she pulled out those most active, most vicious rumor-spreading accounts one by one.
She organized all screenshots, backend data, IP addresses, and transaction records into a detailed evidence file and saved it encrypted.
She wouldn't give anyone a chance to hurt her.
These people, she would sue collectively. Not one would escape.
After finishing all this, Miranda finally felt bone-deep exhaustion sweep over her. She shut down the computer, turned off the lights, and was the last to leave the company.
The underground parking garage late at night was empty and silent, with only a few dim sensor lights on, stretching shadows long and thin.
High heels clicked sharply on the cement floor, making "tap, tap, tap" echoes that sounded especially clear in this deathly quiet environment.
Just out of the elevator, Miranda sensed something wrong.
The air seemed filled with a faint oppressive feeling, as if eyes were watching her from the darkness.
She instinctively looked around. The parking lot was empty with just a few cars parked quietly. No human figures.
Maybe she was too sensitive.
Miranda pressed her lips together, quickened her pace, and walked toward where she'd parked.
When she was less than ten meters from her car...
Everything went black!
A coarse burlap bag covered her head, carrying a pungent musty smell.
Before she could cry out, a strong hand clamped around her neck from behind.
"Mmph!"
Suffocation instantly surged. Miranda's pupils constricted sharply, her body exploding with survival instinct.
She struggled desperately, her hands flailing backward, nails scratching deep bloody marks on her attacker's arm.
But that hand was like an iron vise, tightening mercilessly.
Air was squeezed bit by bit from her lungs. Her vision began to blur, consciousness gradually scattering...
Just then, a shout came from not far away: "What are you doing!"
A strong beam from a flashlight suddenly shone over.
It was a patrol guard.
The person behind her clearly panicked. The hand choking her neck suddenly released, shoving her hard before fleeing toward another exit without looking back.
With a "bang," Miranda stumbled from the push and fell heavily to the ground.
She yanked off the bag on her head, knelt on the ground clutching her throat, desperately gasping for air, making heart-wrenching coughing sounds.
"Cough cough... cough cough cough..."
"Miss, are you okay?" The guard rushed over with his flashlight, looking at her nervously.
Miranda shook her head, unable to say a word.
Her throat burned painfully, like it had been roughly sanded. In that moment just now, she really thought she would be strangled to death.
That near-death terror wrapped around her like an invisible net.
She steadied herself against the car door, trembling as she stood, waving at the guard to indicate she was fine.
Stumbling as she opened the car door and got in, her first action was to press the central lock.
Miranda collapsed on the steering wheel, her body still shaking violently beyond her control, the fear washing over her like a tide.
After a long while, she finally recovered, her pale face completely bloodless.
She took a deep breath, forced herself to calm down, quickly started the car, and drove straight to the nearest police station.
...
When she returned to the Prescott manor, it was already past midnight.
The entire manor was shrouded in deep night, everything silent.
Miranda dragged her exhausted body into the master bedroom. Seeing the pitch-black room, she didn't even bother turning on the lights, fumbling her way into the bathroom.
Warm water washed over her body but couldn't wash away the chill and terror in her heart.
When she came out again, she dried her hair, casually pulled on a robe, and collapsed directly on the bed with exhaustion and moisture all over her.
She just wanted to sleep, didn't want to think about anything.
Just as she closed her eyes, a hoarse male voice suddenly sounded beside her.
"Why did you come back so late?"
"Ah!"
Miranda was startled by this sudden voice, nearly jumping off the bed.
The feeling of nearly being strangled to death today seemed to linger on her neck. That lingering shock made her nerves extremely fragile right now.
She whipped her head around. By the faint moonlight coming through the window, she could make out a figure sitting on the other side of the bed.
It was Clifton.
He wasn't asleep?
Miranda's exhaustion and terror made her not want to say another word to anyone right now, much less explain anything.
She buried her head in the soft pillow, her voice muffled: "Nothing."
After two seconds, she added, "I'm tired. Going to sleep now."
After speaking, she turned over, curling up with her back to the man.
Naturally, with her eyes closed, Miranda didn't notice that in the darkness behind her, Clifton sat leaning against the headboard, his tall body maintaining a stiff posture, as if he'd been waiting for a long time.
Moonlight outlined his silhouette. In those eyes watching her churned complex and suppressed emotions.