Chapter 11 Chapter 11
The professional camerawork produced superb results. Whether it was the earlier intense struggle or the later tangled confusion, the visuals were even more blush-inducing and heart-pounding when projected onto the large screen in the home theater room with detailed close-ups and immersive surround sound than they were when witnessed live.
Wrapped in a bathrobe, Grace sank deep into the oversized sofa. Her lips trembled uncontrollably. She told herself not to cry, yet tears streamed down her face. Benjamin sat nearby, turning his head to look at her with a faint, mocking smile. "You're quite photogenic."
"Really? Thank you,” she replied slowly, her voice hoarse and rough.
Benjamin looked at her in surprise and asked, "Will you go to the police when you get back?"
"With you holding it, how could I dare go to the police?" She almost guessed his next move. She struggled to curve her lips into a snort, but tears flowed harder.
He shrugged indifferently. "I knew Ms. Hill was smart. Since that's the case, let's set the rules for our future games right now. It's simple: whenever I call, you must show up. How about it?"
Stay alive! Get out of here alive! A voice screamed in her head. Grace trembled, her lips quivering. She took a deep breath and responded, “Will we be filming this stuff again?”
“Probably not,” he replied casually, tilting his head as he considered it. "Frankly, it takes too much time and effort. I have no plans to turn you into an AV star. I might ask you to accompany some clients in the future, though. Some might prefer your type."
She closed her eyes and wept silently.
Benjamin summoned the burly man named Michael and said, "It's getting late. Escort Ms. Hill home.”
He was actually letting her go! Grace felt tense and exhilarated. Fearing her eyes might betray her emotions, she quickly lowered her gaze to hide her expression. She dared not appear too eager and instead struggled to rise from the sofa with slow, laborious movements. Michael lost patience, grabbed her by the arm, yanked her up, and dragged her toward the door.
Suddenly, Benjamin called after her, "Ms. Hill."
She stopped, her heart pounding with dread, fearing he might change his mind. Instead, he merely smiled and said casually, "Don't call the police. You'll regret it."
It sounded like a warning, yet it seemed to carry some other meaning. Before she could process it, Michael pressed a medicated towel over her mouth and nose.
When she woke up again, she was in her own home. Everything felt the same as it had on any of the countless mornings she’d woken up before. A light blanket covered her, her clothes hung on the chair beside the bed, and her phone was placed in the empty space on the nightstand, just as she always left it.
Outside, daylight streamed through the window, suggesting it was at least nine or ten o'clock.
She slowly closed her eyes, then opened them again, repeating to herself that last night had been nothing but a nightmare. Yet the ache in her body reminded her that it wasn't.
She buried her face in the quilt and sobbed silently. Reaching out, she fumbled for her phone in the bedside compartment. There was a missed call from Adrian and a message: Grace, don't leave your phone lying around. When I call, no one answers. Also, get some rest. No staying up late.
The timestamp read 10:30 p.m.—the very hour she had been in that devil's grasp.
Grace dialed Adrian's number with trembling hands, but the line was busy every time. After a moment of stunned silence, she sat bolt upright in bed, ignoring the pain, and frantically pulled on her clothes.
Her car was parked in the spot beside the walkway. Further away, neighbors were playing with their children on the lawn.
Grace took a deep breath, forcing herself to appear calm. She drove out of the neighborhood, constantly checking the rearview mirror to make sure no one was following her. Resolutely, she turned the car toward the police station.
"What did you say?" The officer in front of her looked startled. "Please calm down first. Take your time. Speak slowly.”
Grace couldn't possibly calm down. Since entering this place, she had lost all trace of her former composure. "Alex isn't dead! He's now called Benjamin. You have to arrest him! Arrest him quickly!”
The officer seemed even more confused. "Who is Alex? And who is Benjamin?"
Her mouth hung open as she tried to figure out how to explain. "Officer Meyer! I need to speak to Officer Carlo Meyer!" she shouted, as if finally grasping a lifeline. "He knows what's going on!"
The staff member's expression turned peculiar. He looked at Grace, seemed to hesitate, and then said, "Officer Carlo Meyer was in a car accident a few days ago. He passed away. Yesterday, the police station invited a priest to perform his funeral rites.”
Grace froze, doubting her ears. "What did you say?"
The staff member gave her a sympathetic look, rose to pour her a cup of water, and said, "Ms. Hill, please don't worry. Take your time explaining. Even though Officer Meyer is gone, we'll still help you."
But no one could help her!
First, her parents won a travel prize and left on a trip. Then, Adrian left for training in a foreign land. She was utterly alone and helpless. Officer Meyer, whom she thought she could turn to, had died in a car accident just days ago. Were all these events just coincidences? How could they all be such perfect coincidences?
She sat there, dumbstruck and silent. The staff member couldn't help but ask, "Ms. Hill, are you all right?"
Grace lifted her head, her gaze blank as she stared at the young officer before her. Suddenly, Benjamin's words echoed in her mind: "Don't call the police. You'll regret it."