Chapter 87 Are we getting stalked again?
A feeling of unease crept up my spine when I heard the words: "Your car's been tampered with, again." A shiver ran down my neck as a wave of fear washed over me. I felt like someone had punched me in the gut, my breath knocked out of me.
"That can't be true." I shook my head as if he could see me, trying to deny those words, despite knowing Brion would never lie to me. Anyone might, but it would never be Brion. Not in a million years. "It's the truth, Nova. I got notified about it."
My mind raced as I thought back to all the times this had happened before. The flat tyres, the scratched paint, the mysterious noises in the dead of night. It was always the same - a sense of violation, of being watched and targeted.
"Do you think it's taking place again?" I whispered, talking of the time Brion was stalked by a deranged woman 3 years ago. It took getting her jailed, for us to rest from the assaults and almost
accident.
Was this happening again?
I felt a surge of anger, my heart pounding in my chest. Who was doing this? And why? Was it the same person? I couldn't shake off the feeling of vulnerability, of being exposed and defenceless.
I thought of all the times I'd tried to brush it off, to convince myself it was just a prank or a coincidence. But deep down, I knew better. This was something more sinister, something that made my skin
crawl.
I remembered the sense of unease that lingered long after the incident, the constant looking over my shoulder, the fear of being followed. It was exhausting and draining. I felt like I was living in a constant state of hypervigilance, always on edge.
"I don't know." He sounded weak. "Though I doubt it's the same person, I think you are being stalked. We need to take this seriously, Nova. This isn't just a prank. It's more than that."
"What do I do? My kids..." I was powerless. Thinking of the deranged psycho touching my kids made my face hardened.
As I sat there, trying to process what had happened, I knew I couldn't let fear take over. I had to take control, to fight back. I would not let whoever was doing this win. I would not be intimidated.
But how?
How do I do this? To fight back when I didn't know who I was up against? It was such a difficult thing to do. Talking about standing against whatever was happening was easier said than done.
"I won't let anything happen to you guys. You are my family. Taking care of you is my duty." The conviction in his tone strengthened me. Knowing there was someone behind me, ready to fight for me, reinforced my resolve.
"I'm still not happy with getting tailed," I reminded him, so he wouldn't think I had forgotten about it. "You still owe me an explanation for your actions."
"I know," he sighed. "I will give you that answer."
I left work for the auction site. Dashiell tried to drive me there, but I rejected his offer. I wanted to keep him in the dark about my plans until I had perfected it.
I took a cab to the venue to avoid any unnecessary complications on the road. Though Dashiell told me he had already taken care of it, I didn't take my car to avoid any problems on the road. Prevention, they always said, is better than cure.
The venue was a little off the main road, taking me deep into the city, to a place I hadn't been before. Though I lived in the States for years, I hadn't been to most of the city because of how little I went out, aside from when it was necessary. Funny enough, I only knew a fraction of the State.
The auction site was a beautiful grey house, located in the middle of the street. The large sign in front of the house made me furrow my brows, trying to know if I was in the right place. Was the auction held in a church????
It wasn't until I saw the 'moved' under the signpost that I knew the church must have moved to another place.
As I pushed open the grand doors, a warm glow enveloped me. I entered the auction hall with a sense of excitement, my eyes widening to take in the sheer scale of the room. The high ceiling, adorned with intricate mouldings, seemed to stretch up to the heavens, while the polished marble floor beneath my feet gleamed like a still pond.
I bet the church designed this before they left. The building gave out a homey feeling.
The room was abuzz with the murmur of conversation and the rustle of catalogues.
As I made my way through the crowd, I felt anxious about what was about to happen. From the quick scan around, I knew Dashiell's mum hadn't arrived. There was no way I would have mistaken her,
even in a crowd of suits and costly gowns.
I spotted an empty chair in the third row and made my way towards it, my heels clicking softly on the marble floor. I settled into the plush seat, feeling a sense of relief wash over me as I took a moment to collect my thoughts. I took a deep breath, smoothing my dress and adjusting the catalogue I got from the seat, ready to focus on the auction ahead.
It was almost time for it. I could even hear the analogue clock ticking.
My gaze wandered to the podium, where the auctioneer stood, an old man who seemed to be in his early sixties, with bald hair, surveying the room with a confident smile. I felt a shiver of excitement
as I realized I was about to witness the art of deal-making at its finest-the dance of bidding, the thrill of the unknown, and the satisfaction of securing a coveted prize.
This would be my first official auction, and I was so ready for it. The man beside me sent a nervous smile at me as he gestured to the handle of the chair. "That's your digital auction tab. Tap on it
when you wish to bid," he explained.
"Wow. Thanks a bunch."