Chapter 158: He’s Here
**Amanda's POV**
The hammering on my door yanked me straight out of sleep. Loud, insistent knocking crashed through my consciousness, each bang jolting my nerves.
"Calm down, Amanda. Damn it, you're fine." I forced the words through my mind, trying to steady my racing heart.
Sitting up in bed, I rubbed my bleary eyes while the relentless pounding continued. Then I remembered—the first thing I'd done after checking in was double-bolt the door. Pure survival instinct.
"BITCH! GET OUT HERE RIGHT NOW! I'LL KILL YOU, YOU BITCH!"
A woman's voice sliced through the door, each word sharp enough to cut glass. The shrieking pierced my eardrums, making me wince.
A cold smile touched my lips. The hotel walls were paper-thin. I got out of bed calmly, despite the storm raging outside my door. In the bathroom, I splashed cold water on my face. The shock cleared my head instantly. My reflection showed eyes burning with determination.
"So you've come," I whispered. "Let's dance, bitch."
I dressed with deliberate slowness, pulling on a white knit top. I fixed my hair, letting it fall over my shoulders. For ten minutes, I listened as the cursing outside weakened. Her voice grew hoarse from screaming.
Only then did I open the door.
The hallway was packed with spectators. Some openly gawked, others peered through doors, hungry for drama. I felt cold laughter inside—people never lose their appetite for conflict.
Before me stood a woman in her forties, plump figure squeezed into a tight floral dress. Her bottle-blonde hair was permed into massive waves like an angry golden retriever. Seeing me, fresh rage filled her.
Hatred blazed in her eyes as she jabbed a finger at my face, nearly touching my nose.
"You whore! Seducing my husband! I'll destroy you!" Her voice stabbed at me, sharp as steel needles.
Disgust rose in my throat, but my face remained a mask of calm. I studied this visitor, taking in every detail—the middle-aged spread, the tacky hair, the cheap outfit. Her husband must be about the same age with equally questionable taste.
"Ma'am, wrong door?" My voice remained as casual as if discussing the weather.
She faltered, narrowing her eyes as she scrutinized me. The jealousy and bitterness in her gaze felt almost physical, like a snake's venomous stare. It didn't intimidate me. I met her eyes directly, my own heart cold as iron.
"Are you Amanda Davis?" she demanded shrilly.
"Yes." A simple nod, my tone still detached.
"I got you! You seduced my husband, and when he said no, you hurt him! Nearly crippled him! And ruined his Blackwood deal because you work for them!" Each accusation came louder, fueled by her audience.
The absurdity hit me. I couldn't even remember this "husband." But he'd clearly fed his wife some story.
I felt the stares but didn't care. My heart froze over years ago. Their judgment meant nothing.
A connection clicked in my brain.
"You're Nicholas King's wife?" I asked coolly.
"Yes, that's me!" Mrs. King sneered. "Scared now, aren't you?"
I laughed—bright but cold. I yawned and said, "Older folks really do wake up early, don't they? It's barely six. Isn't it rude to disturb people at this hour?"
My words hit her age insecurity perfectly. I counted down, knowing she'd snap.
She did: "What's rude about it? After what you did, you think you deserve peace?"
Inside, I sneered. This woman lived in her husband's lies—pathetic. "Lady, maybe ask your husband to look in a mirror? You think I'd be interested in him?" I raised an eyebrow, voice dripping contempt.
Before I could finish, Stephanie Hall came out from next door, rushing over with fake concern. "Amanda! What's happening?" she asked.
Looking at Stephanie's face, I grew suspicious. "Nothing. Just a rabid dog barking at the wrong tree."
Those words pushed Mrs. King over the edge. Her face swelled red like a tomato. "You've got some nerve! Seducing a married man! I'm teaching you a lesson today!"
Two big men appeared behind her—waiting for their cue. My muscles tensed, ready for the fight I knew was coming.
Stephanie trembled, clutching my sleeve, whispering, "Amanda, let's call security. They look dangerous."
A wave of revulsion swept through me at her touch. I violently yanked my arm away, my gaze hardening as it landed on her.
"Strange—I found this apartment randomly. Only we two knew about it. How did she track me here?" My voice dropped dangerously low, suspicion aimed directly at Stephanie.
Stephanie froze, guilt and panic flashing across her face. She stammered, "The King corporation has influence here. They probably investigated."
"Do you even believe that?" My question cut like a blade. "I don't know how much Sophia paid you, but I can't stand two-faced people beside me. Makes me sick."
The accusation struck her like a physical blow. Stephanie paled, fingers digging into her palms hard enough to break skin. She stood there, resembling a frightened deer, trying to look victimized as if I were bullying her. But I'd seen through her disguise, and my disgust only intensified.
Mrs. King, oblivious to our confrontation, waved imperiously at her men. "Grab her! Show her what happens when you mess with married men."
When the first man lunged for me, battle instinct surged through my body. I kicked out hard, but was surprised when my foot connected with what felt like steel plate—his abdominal muscles seemed unnaturally rigid. The man smirked, clearly hired muscle who wouldn't back down easily.
He reached for my arm but suddenly howled in pain. Seizing the opening, I delivered another kick that sent him crashing to the floor. Despite his bulky frame, he folded under my attack like cardboard.
Mrs. King's expression darkened to something ugly. Her voice shook with rage: "You—you bitch!"
My ears practically begged for new insults. Did this woman know no other words?
"Mrs. King, surely you know what kind of man your husband is. You really believe I'd pursue him?" My challenge carried deliberate provocation.
Rage made her entire chest heave. "Of course I believe it! You wanted money from my family, trying to seduce my husband for cash!"
Laughter bubbled up inside me. Their money? What was that to me? Yet Mrs. King clearly held her family's status in high regard—blind confidence that seemed both amusing and pitiful.
My laughter ignited her fury further. Disregarding her fallen bodyguards, she charged forward herself, fat arm swinging to slap me.
I moved to dodge, but suddenly noticed her arm caught mid-swing, held firmly by a large hand. The grip looked powerful, freezing Mrs. King in an awkward position, unable to advance or retreat.
"Claiming King Enterprises has such influence? News to me." A cool male voice cut through the tense air.
Looking up, shock jolted through me—Ethan Blackwood stood there! His tall frame blocked my view, like an impenetrable mountain shielding me. An unexpected sense of security washed over me.
Ethan's piercing eyes swept over Mrs. King, his cold indifference making her visibly shiver.