Chapter 6 Marry Me
Michael had traced that anonymous email before. The trail went cold at an overseas IP address—impossible to track further.
"It was you?" Michael looked at her.
Tiffany nodded, her eyes rimming red. "I kept working on designs when I was abroad. When I saw the news about your accident, I... I couldn't just do nothing."
She lowered her head. "I just didn't expect that now, I probably won't be able to help Johnson Group anymore."
Silence spread through the room.
Michael stared at the folder on the phone screen for a long time, his thumb slowly scrolling through the thumbnails.
This style.
Clean, restrained, meticulous compositional logic.
Identical to the set of designs Aurora had presented tonight.
Also identical to that industry designer called "Jane."
But the thought lasted only a second before he pushed it down.
He handed the phone back to Tiffany and after a moment of silence said, "Marry me."
Tiffany froze. "What did you say?"
"I said marry me." Michael looked at her. "The divorce paperwork is already being processed. Once everything's ready, marry me."
"But you don't have to do this out of guilt—"
"It's not guilt." He cut her off, his tone more serious than ever. "I failed to protect you back then."
Tiffany covered her mouth as tears streamed through her fingers.
She threw herself into Michael's arms, her whole body trembling.
"Michael... I'm so happy..."
Michael raised his hand and patted her back, his gaze traveling over her shoulder to the dark window beyond, lost in thought.
What he didn't see was the face buried against his shoulder—tears streaming down, but lips curved upward.
Tiffany's fingertips clutched the fabric at his back, a cold, triumphant gleam flickering deep in her eyes.
Three years.
Three years of careful planning, and finally it was time to close the net.
Aurora arrived back at the rental apartment close to eleven.
The babysitter had put Julia to sleep and was watching TV in the living room. Seeing Aurora return, she quickly stood. Aurora thanked her, saw her out, and locked the door behind her.
The apartment was quiet. Julia slept in the bedroom, her breathing soft and delicate, like a curled-up kitten.
Aurora stood in the doorway watching her for a while, tucked the blanket around her, then turned and headed to the bathroom.
Her phone sat on the coffee table in the living room. She didn't bring it with her.
Hot water cascaded down, washing away the exhaustion of the day and all the tangled thoughts.
Aurora closed her eyes and leaned against the tile wall, letting the steam fill the entire bathroom.
In the living room, her phone buzzed.
Half a minute later, it started buzzing again.
This repeated three times. No one answered.
Aurora vaguely heard the noise through the sound of running water, but she had no intention of going out.
Anyone calling at this hour—she didn't want to guess, and didn't need to.
The sound of water drowned out everything outside.
She didn't hear the front door being opened with a passcode. The lock on this apartment was new, replaced after she moved in, but the code was Julia's birthday.
Michael got it on the first try.
He stood in the entryway, surveying the rental unit of less than fifty square meters. The living room and dining area were crammed together. A folding table was covered with design sketches, pencils and eraser shavings scattered across it.
On the refrigerator hung Julia's finger painting—three crooked figures, the tallest one covered in black scribbles.
His gaze lingered on that drawing for a second.
The sound of running water continued from the bathroom.
Michael frowned and walked over. The door was unlocked. When he turned the handle and pushed it open, hot steam hit him in the face. His vision filled with white mist first, then the blurred silhouette behind the frosted glass partition.
Aurora's eyes snapped open at the sound.
The instant the fog cleared, she saw through the glass the person who shouldn't be here.
"Michael!" She instinctively covered herself with her arms, her voice sharp with panic. "How did you get in?"
Michael leaned against the doorframe, his gaze sweeping over her shoulders and collarbone visible beyond the partition, his expression unchanged.
"Called you six times. You didn't answer."
"Not answering means I don't want to talk. Can't you figure that out?"
"I figured it out." He said. "That's why I came."
Aurora took a deep breath, suppressing the surge of anger. "Get out. I'm taking a shower."
"I can see that."
"Leaving the door open with no clothes on," Michael's tone was flat. "Aurora, are you waiting for someone?"
Aurora nearly laughed in anger. "This is my own home. I can shower however I want. What business is it of yours? Get out!"
She grabbed the towel hanging nearby and wrapped it around herself, turned off the shower, and pushed open the glass door to step out.
Her foot slipped on the wet floor. Michael instinctively reached out, but she slapped his hand away.
"Don't touch me."
Michael's hand froze mid-air before withdrawing.
They stood less than two feet apart, eyes locked. The steam in the bathroom hadn't yet cleared. Her hair was soaked and plastered to the sides of her face, the towel wrapped tightly around her like a bristling cat.
Michael looked away and stepped out of the bathroom first.
Aurora shut the door, changed into clothes, and emerged to find Michael sitting on the living room sofa, looking through the sketches on her table.
She strode over and snatched the papers away. "What exactly do you want?"
"Where's Julia?"
Aurora's movements stilled.
"Grandmother's been asking about her for days." Michael leaned back against the sofa, his tone casual.
Aurora smiled slowly, the expression devoid of warmth.
"I thought maybe you were the one missing your daughter."
Michael's brow furrowed. He didn't respond to that.
"She's already asleep," Aurora stuffed the sketches into a folder and issued her dismissal. "If you want to see her, come back tomorrow during the day. Please leave now."
Michael didn't move.
He looked at Aurora. That oversized loungewear hung loose on her frame, the neckline sliding down to expose part of her shoulder.
Her freshly showered skin still carried a dewy sheen, her half-dried hair draped over her shoulders, a few strands clinging to her neck.
She seemed completely unaware, focused only on organizing the things on the table. Before she could repeat her request for him to leave, her wrist was seized.
Aurora stumbled and fell onto the sofa, her back sinking into the cushions. In that instant, Michael's magnified face filled her vision.
He braced himself above her, his breath falling on her forehead, carrying a faint hint of mint.
"You—"
When the kiss descended, Aurora's mind went blank.
Only for a second.
A second later she began to struggle, both hands pushing against his chest. "Let go! Michael, what's wrong with you?"
He didn't release her.
"Who taught you," his voice was muffled, "to walk around dressed like this? Who are you trying to show off for?"
Aurora trembled with rage. "I'm in my own home!"
"You're still my wife."
"I already signed the divorce papers."
