The loud, instinctive exclamation made obvious how great Sharon's shock was. But it went unanswered as it resounded in the room. The silence that followed made the rhythmic sound of the knife hitting the chopping board outside dissonant, but it was that very sound which pulled Sharon out of her shock.
She regained her focus, but still found herself in disbelief. She turned the white paper in her hand, with a red string running through it on top and tied in a knot, around again and again. But that did nothing to change the fact that there was nothing written on it, not on the front, nor at the back. It was as if what she recalled was merely an illusion, a dream from her period of unconsciousness that night a month ago. But she did not believe it. She was sure of her thoughts about whatever sorcery had caused the pain last night. She was certain of what she had seen that morning upon waking up.
Refusing to yield, Sharon suddenly turned her attention to the box in her hand to check it thoroughly. But it was empty, and too small to hide anything. She shook it, turned it upside down, even felt its walls for a possible secret compartment, but found nothing.
Still unresigned, Sharon hurriedly crouched down to look into the open safe again. She searched through it, but it was also too small to hide much, and there was no other box inside.
Looking at the riches inside the safe, Sharon bit her lip, still unwilling to accept that she had seen things wrong a month ago, that the explanation for the abnormal pain from last night could not be confirmed, and that a solution could not be found.
Pressing her teeth even harder against her lower lip, Sharon considered whether everything might actually have a more logical explanation. She wondered whether she should go for a health check.
Sharon remained before the safe filled with more money than some might ever see in their lives, but with her mind elsewhere. Biting her lips, she remained lost in her thoughts for a while, then took a deep breath and shook her head.
Though she had gone through no examination yesterday, she was certain she was not wrong in what she had read a month ago, nor was she wrong in her deduction. Moreover, looking into the small wooden box in her hand, there was no sign of what had been the cause of the white flash that had rendered her unconscious that night, nor any remnants or traces that could give any useful clue, as if, inside, there had always only ever been the paper with the red string attached.
Thinking up to that point, Sharon sprang to her feet. She looked at the white paper with the red string, then declared with firm determination:
"No, I don't believe it!"
And if she wanted to make sense of things, she had to ask the only other person who might hold an answer. Ignoring the open safe, she turned and hurried out of the bedroom while calling out:
"Alex Lenner!"
Alex was not in the kitchen anymore. The place had been cleaned to a pristine state. Searching with her gaze, Sharon found Alex on the sofa in the middle of the living room, his breakfast on the table before him along with a glass of juice. She could not help but pause.
It had already been unexpected to see the rich playboy from an even richer family in the kitchen cooking for himself, but the sheer speed that showed his proficiency brought back the surprise she had barely paid attention to earlier.
From the sofa, Alex glanced over. His brown eyes went to the white paper and the small wooden box Sharon was holding, then shifted up to look into the anxious sapphire blue eyes of the blonde. He let out a casual smile, then ignored her to turn on the laptop beside his breakfast and get ready to start eating.
Sharon felt a prick in her heart. That dismissiveness the playboy had always faced her with had never been so grating, especially as she was beset with troubles at every turn, and now anxious because of what she had found, or rather, had not found in the safe. Unfortunately, there was nothing she could do to him, and she even needed him now.
Sharon snapped out of the stupor that had made her pause for another second. Taking a deep breath, she resumed her resolute march with even more determination, and went to stand beside the sofa Alex was sitting on. As he took in a mouthful of his carefully prepared breakfast, she held the box in her hand toward him and asked with a forcefully contained fierce undertone:
"Alex Lenner, is this really the same box as last time? Did you not change it or its contents?"
Without hurrying, Alex chewed then swallowed the food, before turning to Sharon. He looked at her hands, then asked with a smile that felt grating with the appearance as if he was suppressing a laugh:
"Have you ever heard of the story of the termite who walked into a bar? He asked, 'Is the bar tender here?'"
Sharon replied with a frown and a look that portrayed the confusion which made her mind lag with hesitation for a second, then she snapped, frustrated:
"No, I haven't. What do a termite and a bartender have to do with my question?"
Alex's smile deepened:
"Not a bartender. Anyway, had I been there, I would have replied 'Why would I care, am I that bored?'"
It took Sharon a moment to process the words which were on a seemingly different wavelength than hers, and another moment to realize that it was not about a bartender, but about whether the bar itself was tender for the termite to eat.
Sharon finally reached the end of her thought process, and following the light at the end of the tunnel, the meaning of the playboy's words finally dawned on her.
Sharon took a deep breath, then looked at him while gnashing her teeth.
Alright, so he was not bored enough to tamper with something he had clearly shown a lack of care for a month ago. But couldn't he have just been direct and spoken like a normal human, in a human language?
Sharon glared at Alex, and took another deep breath, something she had found herself doing much more often around this damn heir of the damn Lenner family.
Without another word, she decisively turned on her heels and walked away, putting him out of her sight.