Chapter 97

The sudden opening of the door sent a faint breeze across the hallway. The man, who made it a nightly ritual to look in on the girl before he slept, felt his mind go completely blank.

She never turned off her lights when she was on her phone, and she was always asleep within half an hour of doing so. What was different tonight? Was she having trouble sleeping?

In the next second, his heart began to thunder in his chest, and his shoulders trembled in the darkness. He had been caught standing outside her room like a stalker in the middle of the night. He must have terrified her again.

Damn it all.

He raised a shaking hand to adjust his glasses but could barely steady it.

"George, fancy seeing you here," the girl's sweet, clear voice chirped. "Are you up for a glass of water, too?"

There were only two people living in the villa. Marguerite instantly recognized George's tall, slender frame and wasn't scared at all. He must have been on his way from his room and stopped when he heard her door open.

"Do you want a soda or just water? I can grab it for you since I'm heading there anyway." Marguerite was trying to make up for her deception with small acts of kindness. The villa's second floor also had a sitting area with a water dispenser and a fridge stocked with drinks.

George was stunned that she had simply assumed he was passing by, and that she was so calm about it. A person with a pure heart sees the world through a pure lens. There was no darkness in her mind, so she wouldn't even conceive of his dark thoughts.

In that moment, George loathed himself more than ever. He was a creature crawling

in the gutter, forever gazing up with a damp, obsessive longing at the brightest star

in the sky. The star would always be a star-brilliant and radiant.

"No, thank you. I can get it myself," George said, his voice a carefully controlled murmur of gentleness.

At least, he thought, Joshua would never do something as dark and twisted as this. These past two weeks of living under the same roof had been like a magnificent dream for him. He had to see her, really see her, every night before bed, or he couldn't sleep.

Since he had declined, Marguerite didn't press the issue. They walked together to the second-floor sitting area. The moon was full and bright, its silvery light spilling through the balcony doors, casting a beautiful, hazy glow over the room.

A glass of water was handed to her, and Marguerite took it naturally, taking a sip. The lukewarm water soothed her dry throat. "Thanks," she said with a small smile. His long legs had gotten him to the water dispenser first.

George poured a glass for himself as well. The icy liquid slid down his throat, calming his frantic nerves.

"Did you wake up thirsty?" he asked, his tone casual.

Marguerite's long, curled lashes fluttered. “No, I just couldn't fall asleep.”

"Is it because of Aaron?" George's gaze was fixed on her face. The sitting room was unlit, bathed only in the ethereal moonlight that streamed between them, creating an intimate atmosphere.

Marguerite took another sip of water

and looked up at him. The tall, slender man stood near the balcony, the moonlight resting on his shoulders. He was wearing a set of silver-gray pajamas that outlined his well-proportioned, elegant frame.

His

was hidden in the shadows but she could just make out the tea-colored mole near his nose, a subtly alluring detail.

“That's part of it,” she admitted. “He's young. I'm worried about him.”

The other part was the guilt she felt for deceiving the man standing before her, but she wasn't about to confess that. A small, selfish part of her decided would be better fo wait until after Aaron was found to offer a proper apology. If she told him now, he might get angry and stop helping. She had to admit, she wasn't entirely a saint.

"The search will take time, but I'm confident we'll have results soon. You shouldn't

worry too much,” George said, his voice a soothing balm.

Marguerite managed a smile. "I suppose you're right." She had already told George the whole story of how Aaron had gone missing before he made the calf, it was necessary for the search. Now, she remembered what Nancy had told her about George possibly having grown up in the slums.

"I went to the slums today and heard you used to live there. Is that true?" she asked,

her curiosity piqued. She wasn't sleepy, and the darkness seemed to lower their guards, allowing them to talk like old friends.

George gripped the transparent glass in his hand. It was filled with ice water, water meant to keep him lucid, but even a long sip couldn't suppress the excitement in his eyes.

Is Stella asking about my past?

"It's true," George replied, his voice still gentle but with a slightly higher, sexier pitch.