Standing below the building, Cassian looked up through his sunglasses at the sa ledge from which Cixi had jumped, while standing in the exact spot where he had caught her. Behind him, Mark remained alert, sweeping the surroundings.
Cassian spent a mont there before he questioned Mark, "Do you know which floor her apartnt is on?"
"Yes, Boss. She lives on the sixth floor."
Cassian nodded once without turning back. Mark took the first stride, and Cassian followed him to the sixth floor.
Once they arrived, Mark stopped at Cixi’s door and checked the handle to see if it was locked, then reached into the inner pocket of his blazer and brought out a slim tool that made old lock systems obsolete. Within seconds, the door swung open without needing to be destroyed.
The mont they stepped inside, they were hit by the aroma of food that had been cooked there. The scent was fresh, as if a al had been prepared not long ago.
Mark moved to the kitchen imdiately, scanning the counter where unwashed plates sat stacked carelessly by the sink. The pan on the stove carried the golden-brown scent of burnt sausage. He opened the fridge to find it half full, then checked the bathroom, where water droplets still sat beaded and glistening on the shower curtain.
"Boss, soone used this apartnt this morning. "He ca out at once.
Cassian opened Cixi’s wardrobe and looked at her clothes. Only a few simple pieces hung from the rail, and a few were on the shelf for everyday use. No sexy outfit. No party wear, only daily wear.
Mark scratched the back of his head, processing what his boss was doing. The Cassian Crown was checking a woman’s wardrobe... A man who, after sex, let the driver drop the woman back to her place and never let any woman feel comfortable enough to give her excuses to leave her belongings behind.
What baffled him more was that he wasn’t sure if Cixi had survived the gunshot and the cold ocean. "I think, Boss, probably her cousin or a friend was sharing the place with her?" He ntioned.
Cassian said nothing. Instead, he pulled the bag down from the top of the wardrobe, unzipped it, and began packing Cixi’s clothes, which included jeans, oversized pullovers, socks, and underwear. He placed them inside carefully, which left Mark staring.
Since yesterday, Cassian’s words and behaviour had made no sense to him. His every action left him more puzzled than the last, but he was unsure if it was safer to question his boss, especially when Cassian looked like a dormant volcano with a cracked surface, ready to erupt at any mont.
He tried to keep his curiosity to himself, but it was as effective as putting a sock in a leaky dam. Finally, given his inquisitiveness, Mark dared to ask, though his voice ca out as small as a frightened mouse. "Boss, how sure are we that she survived?"
"She has my coin, Mark," Cassian’s reply was flat and final. "And I did not find her body."
Mark was even more muddled than before. Did the coin carry so kind of protective shield against death?
And how could anyone see anything in a dark ocean at night? His boss had gone below the water without so much as a torch. None of it added up or made any sense.
Probably yesterday’s car accident had affected his boss more than anyone realised. His fixation on Cixi was beyond anything Mark had ever witnessed.
Cassian zipped the bag closed, then picked up a yellow note from the counter and took a pen, writing five words before placing the note where it could not be missed.
"Co and get it — Cassian Crown."
Before leaving, he glanced at the floor by the entrance where Cixi kept one pair of sneakers and one pair of sports shoes. After consideration, he let them be.
Mark carried the bag as they walked out, and the door clicked shut behind them.
It was almost an hour after Cassian had left the apartnt when Cixi and Marion arrived at the building.
After parking the car on the side street, they walked up together to fetch clothes for Cixi and enough daily necessities for a week or two.
If she were going to stay with Marion, she needed her basics at the very least.
When they got to the apartnt and stepped inside, Cixi went straight to the wardrobe, reaching for the bag she always kept on top. But her hand t with emptiness.
The bag was gone...
She opened the wardrobe doors to see if she had placed it inside, only to find it was empty. Every piece of clothing she owned had vanished...
The apartnt was so small that it took less than five minutes to search every corner, pulling open drawers and checking under the sofabed, only to find nothing left.
She turned to look at Marion, who had been searching alongside her with the sa bewildered urgency.
"Do you think soone ca in and took my clothes?" Cixi asked, rubbing her temple in distress. "Do you think it was one of those internet people?"
Dread filled her chest when she uttered those words. Marion’s eyes fell on the kitchen counter and spotted a yellow note sitting there. She picked it up and read it aloud. "Co and get it — Cassian Crown."
Cixi crossed the distance in two hurried strides, took the note from Marion’s hand, and read it urgently. Then read it again. Then a third ti.
The more she read, the wider her eyes grew until she was certain that if they expanded any further, they would pop clean out of her skull.
Why was he looking for her? And why in God’s na had he taken her clothes? What does he want?
She rubbed her temples again, staring at the yellow note as though it might rearrange itself into sothing that made sense. Yesterday, all the events were a dream, right?
"Do you know him?" Marion feared for Cixi.
Cixi licked her lower lip before biting it softly, her gaze locked on Cassian’s na. "I—I cleaned his apartnt once," her voice was barely above a whisper.
"How does he know where you live?" Marion asked, her voice growing tenser with each word. "Do you think he saw the video and then ca here?" Panic surged through both won’s hearts and brains. "Cixi, let’s go. You are not coming back to this apartnt. Not until you find a job and another place to stay," Marion took the note from Cixi’s hand, tore it in half, then tore it in half again before dropping the pieces on the counter.
Cixi’s brain was wrecked with many queries. Why was Cassian Crown looking for her? Why would he take her clothes? What did he want?
She opened her purse and stared at the coin where she had kept it, nestled among the few things she still owned. She looked at it for a long mont and thought about throwing it away.
But for so reason she could not explain, she did not want to.
She closed her purse at once and focused back on Marion, whose concern had hardened to fear. "Yes. Let us go back to your ho. This place is not safe." Cixi didn’t want to contact Cassian, and she wouldn’t. She was afraid of him. Afraid of the unknown. And certainly she did not want the dream to co true, that if she ever saw him again, he would imprison her.
So she will never seek him out. Never et him.
*
It was late evening when Marion’s husband, Martin, arrived ho.
He was a truck driver who transported goods from one city to another. When he stepped through the front door, he noticed an extra pair of old boots which did not belong to any of his family mbers. He strode faster inside and found Cixi sitting casually on the couch, playing with his seven-year-old daughter, lisha, while Madeleine, thirteen years old, stayed in her bedroom doing howork, and Michael, nine years old, sat on the living room floor, focused entirely on building his Lego set.
When Cixi heard the heavy footsteps, her head turned to find Martin coming toward them. She stood up from the couch imdiately and offered a tight, nervous smile. "Hello, Martin."
"Hello, Cixi." He removed his cap, tossed it onto the arm of the sofa, and sank into the seat opposite her. "What are you doing here?"
Marion’s voice rang out from the kitchen before Cixi could answer. She erged, wiping her hands on a dish towel, positioning herself between Martin’s question and the answer.
"Cixi will stay with us for a while," Marion replied, trying to sound confident but not quite managing it.
Martin tilted his head slowly, his gaze shifting to Marion with a glare for not asking him before making this decision. His eyes remained stern at Marion before turning back to Cixi, whose hand was now clenched tight, sensing the tension in the air.
"For how long?" His voice was not close to kind. It was not even flat. He did not hide his disdain for what he had walked into.
Cixi knew Martin never liked her, and the reason remained a mystery, just as she couldn’t understand why her college mates seed to hate her.
Before she could respond, Marion interrupted again. "Martin, please. She has nowhere else to go. She lost her job and is now looking for a new one. She will move out as soon as she finds a job."
Marion didn’t want to give Martin too much information on Cixi.
Martin stared at Cixi for a long, awkward stretch before he spoke.
"Get a cold beer. I am thirsty." The order was directed at Marion, and she went inside imdiately to fetch it.
The mont Marion was out of earshot, Martin leaned forward.
"Try to be less of an inconvenience to us. Everything costs money." His eyes did not blink. "And I do not like seeing unfamiliar faces when I return ho."
Cixi’s throat moved as she swallowed. She nodded before her gaze dropped to the floor. There was nothing she could say that wouldn’t worsen the situation for either herself or Marion, so she opted for silence.
Before Marion returned with the chilled beer, Cixi had already slipped away into lisha’s room and closed the door behind her, staying inside where she would not be seen.
Martin took the beer from Marion’s hand and twisted the cap off. She glanced around the room worriedly. "Where did Cixi go?"
He brought the bottle to his lips and drank as though it were water, long and deep, before pulling it away. "She was tired, it seems."
He switched on the television and turned to the football.
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