Chapter 8 - The Midnight Visitor
The rain beat a steady rhythm against the glass of my grandmother's apartment.
I sat on the worn velvet sofa,
a book open on my lap,
though I hadn't read a single word.
The old place smelled of lavender and old paper,
a comforting scent from my childhood.
Suddenly,
the buzzer downstairs rang,
the sharp sound cutting through the quiet room.
My heart leaped into my throat,
a sudden panic seizing my chest.
I walked slowly to the intercom,
my hand trembling as I pressed the button.
"Who is it?"
I asked,
hoping it was Thomas or Marcus.
"Clara,
open the door,"
Gideon's voice came through the speaker,
distorted by static but unmistakably his.
He sounded exhausted,
but there was an underlying current of fury that made my skin crawl.
"You shouldn't be here,
Gideon,"
I said,
keeping my voice steady.
"The police have been notified of the order."
"I don't care about the police,
Clara!
Open this door right now!"
he shouted,
slamming his fist against the external glass downstairs.
"We need to talk.
You destroyed my company,
you ruined my name,
and for what?
A petty revenge?"
"Revenge?"
I let out a soft,
humorless laugh.
"No,
Gideon.
This is called consequences.
You spent three years treating me like a ghost.
Now you have to live with the choices you made."
"It was just one mistake,
Clara!
The baby changed everything,
I had to be there!"
he pleaded,
his voice cracking slightly.
"One mistake?"
I shook my head,
even though he couldn't see me.
"You bought her an apartment with my family's money.
You kissed her under the streetlamps while I sat at home alone.
You didn't make a mistake,
Gideon.
You built a whole second life and expected me to pay for it."
"Clara,
please,"
he said,
his tone shifting to something resembling desperation.
"Just let me up.
We can fix this.
I can make it go away."
"You can't fix this,"
I said,
my voice dropping to a whisper.
"Go back to your son,
Gideon.
Your wife is gone."
I released the button,
turning off the intercom completely.
Downstairs,
I could hear him shouting my name into the empty street,
May you like
but the sound grew fainter,
swallowed by the heavy London rain.
