Chapter 210 Prey
Juniper stared at her phone screen, waiting for what felt like ages.
No reply.
She put the phone down, then picked it up again. The screen still showed that message—" Mr. Spencer, what are you doing?"
Read.
No reply.
She bit her lower lip and sent another one.
"Are we still having dinner together tomorrow?"
Send.
One minute passed, two minutes passed.
Still no reply.
She placed the phone face-down on the nightstand, lay back, and stared at the ceiling.
The ceiling was plain and white, but as she stared at it, she seemed to see some kind of shape.
Her hands started to itch again.
She lifted her hand, studying her fingers under the moonlight.
Five fingers, still tinged red.
She stared at them, suddenly remembering that hand.
That cold and rigid hand she had held.
She sat up abruptly.
Turned on the bedside lamp.
The light lit up a corner of the bedroom, but the area by the door remained dark.
She stared at that door for a long time.
Then got out of bed, walked over, and turned on the hallway light too.
Still not enough.
She turned on the living room light, the kitchen light, the bathroom, the balcony—every light that could be turned on, all lit up.
The apartment was as bright as daytime.
No shadows, no hidden corners, everything clearly visible.
She stood in the center of the living room, breathing fast.
"Juniper," she said to the empty air, "what are you afraid of? She's already dead."
Her voice echoed through the empty room.
No one responded.
But she just didn't want to turn off the lights.
She returned to the bedroom and lay down.
Closed her eyes.
But as soon as she closed them, there was that face. Those age spots, that slightly open mouth.
She opened her eyes suddenly, gasping.
Picked up her phone and looked again.
No reply.
She suddenly felt a bit panicked.
Even forgot her earlier fear.
Why wasn't he replying?
Had he discovered something?
Impossible.
She told herself.
He knew nothing.
He was just mad enough to see only that corpse.
She remembered how he crouched in front of the wheelchair, talking to that corpse.
"It's my fault."
Those words were so gentle.
William had never spoken to Isabella in that tone.
Her fingers slowly tightened, gripping the phone, knuckles whitening.
Why.
Why could she still make him treat her like that, even after dying?
The phone suddenly vibrated.
Juniper looked down.
It was William's reply.
[Come.]
She stared at this response, her heartbeat skipping a beat.
The corners of her mouth slowly curved up.
She typed quickly.
[What time? Do I need to bring anything?]
Send.
This time, the reply came quickly.
[Six o'clock, bring yourself.]
Juniper stared at these words, her smile deepening.
Bring yourself.
She laughed.
After laughing for a while, she put down the phone and lay back on the bed.
This time, when she closed her eyes, she didn't see that face again.
She dreamed she was sitting in that restaurant. The soft lighting, the tablecloth white.
She sat in the main seat, wearing a white dress. William sat across from her, smiling as he served her food.
"Does it taste good?"
She nodded.
She looked down at her hands, clean and beautiful.
No red marks, no Isabella.
The living room lights stayed on all night.
At five in the morning, Dylan stood in the study, dark circles under his eyes as he stared at the computer.
He had already had people thoroughly check all the surveillance cameras in the city.
But the leads were too scattered, too messy.
The videos sent over totaled more than ten gigabytes.
Until he finally caught that man's face in a pile of footage.
His hands trembled slightly with excitement.
"Finally found you. Didn't expect you'd dare come back."
Dylan pressed his phone and started making calls.
"He's back."
"Find him. Turn the city upside down if you have to."
His heart was racing.
Until on another screen, another car appeared.
Parked right downstairs from the Spencer Villa.
In the car window was a woman, touching up her makeup in the rearview mirror.
Dylan sneered inwardly—how could she possibly compare to Ms. Tudor?
But he still didn't know what Mr. Spencer was trying to do.
She stood under the porch, not looking in a mirror, not fixing her hair.
Just standing quietly, waiting for the door to open.
Dylan opened the door.
Juniper saw him and nodded lightly.
"Dylan, thank you for your hard work."
Her voice was soft, with a hint of concern.
Dylan looked at her.
Her gaze was gentle, her expression natural, standing there like a white flower neither competing nor fighting.
"Ms. Miller, please come in."
Juniper nodded slightly and walked in.
Her steps were neither fast nor slow, her skirt swaying lightly.
Pushing open the dining room door, the soft lighting inside.
William sat in the main seat, wearing a dark gray suit.
Beside him, still that wheelchair.
Someone sat in the wheelchair.
She's here after all.
Dead, yet still not letting people rest.
Juniper continued walking in, acting as if nothing was wrong, and sat down across from William.
She didn't look at the wheelchair.
Only at William.
"William."
William looked up at her.
Those eyes were empty.
Juniper didn't mind.
She asked softly, "How are you today?"
William said nothing.
Juniper waited a second, then nodded.
"That's good then."
She didn't feel awkward at all.
This was the second time William had actively invited her to dinner.
She would perform better than Isabella.
More refined, more elegant.
She picked up the water pitcher on the table, poured herself a glass of water, and also added a little to William's.
Her movements were gentle and natural.
William watched her.
Juniper looked up, meeting his eyes.
"I'm not good with words," she said softly. "But if you want to talk about anything, I'm here."
William said nothing.
Just looked at her.
In those empty eyes, something flowed darkly.
Like shadows of fish beneath ice.
But this silence was about to break her elegant composure.
"Taking care of her like this every day, aren't you tired?"
She could only continue looking for topics.
William remained silent, just staring at her.
That gaze was like stripping away her defenses, then devouring them completely.
He's finally noticing me.
Juniper couldn't hide the smile at the corners of her mouth, uncaring whether her guess was right.
"You're a devoted person. Isabella was lucky to meet you."
She continued talking to herself.
William looked at her.
In those empty eyes, something flashed.
"You're different from her."
Juniper froze.
"What?"
Halfway through dinner, William suddenly put down his fork, though he hadn't taken a single bite.
Facing this woman, he had no appetite.
"Isabella's parents, are they doing well now?"
"Has her father woken up?"
Juniper was stumped.
How would she know whether Benjamin had woken up or not?
She was just an adopted daughter, not biological.
Did he really expect her to keep watch by the hospital bed every day?
Empty bedpans for that disgusting Benjamin?
At the thought, Juniper's throat felt nauseous.
She forced a smile.
"Yes, Godfather is unchanged."
"But I think he'll definitely recover."