Chapter Two
470 Words
Boom! Another chilling phrase cleaved into her mind.
Who? Who is inside? Archibald Harrington? I must be seeing things! Cecilia Sterling was dumbfounded.
He strode into the house, continuing to drop verbal bombs: "Come in."
Haha, a joke, right? Go in? Oh no, only a fool would enter! Sterling stood at the threshold, glaring fiercely at the man—
He, was, doing, this, on, purpose!
Reginald Beaumont was indeed doing it intentionally.
Because he simply couldn’t resist a certain... temptation of pleasure.
Like feasting his eyes on the face before him that taught him 'intoxication' with its expression of shock and anger.
Like leisurely orchestrating a... ‘damsel in distress’ scenario.
"Aren’t you looking for someone? Please, come in!" he gestured welcomingly.
"I, I—" Sterling felt as if she were climbing a sheer cliff.
Fortunately, Georgina Prescott rushed out just in time to pull Sterling back, shouting, "It's not this house, sorry, wrong door..." Her words trailed off into a flurry of hurried footsteps.
Watching them leave, as the door shut, Reginald Beaumont's lips curved into a faint smile across his cheek.
However, that semblance of a smile vanished immediately upon hearing the noise behind him.
Before the door could fully close, a tall and robust figure had already decisively crossed the threshold.
Soon, a series of alarming sounds echoed—
"Take it off!" Reginald Beaumont growled lowly.
"Please... don’t..." a soft, pleading voice responded.
"Off!" a stern command.
"Fine, I’ll take it off... Is that okay now?"
"Everything. Take everything off!" the final ultimatum.
"You... don’t be like this..."
"Do I really need to do it myself?"
"No! Not by tearing... Ah! Help—"
Once again, terrifying pleas for help resounded from the room.
Only when the door to the third floor finally shut did the two women hiding in the stairwell dare to open the door to the second floor. They were home!
But the horrific screams coming from upstairs left their souls temporarily unanchored.
"Uh, you said you didn’t see anything just now?" Georgina Prescott asked, her eyes drifting upward, her face pale.
"I didn’t see anything, but..." Sterling propped her cheek, her expression grave. "Maybe she’s been locked up. Still, when I rang the doorbell, shouldn’t she have cried out for help at least once?"
"Maybe she fainted just then."
"So, she should be awake by now, right?" Or should it be said that the whole building was awake? She glared upward, towards the source of the terrifying noises.
"Sterling, what are you thinking of doing now? Going up again? You might dare, but I sure don’t!" Georgina Prescott noticed her about to make a move.
"Someone else can go up and 'greet' him this time!"
Someone else? As Georgina Prescott wondered, she saw Cecilia Sterling picking up her phone to dial—
- Writer
