The following morning, Miller walked downstairs early, dressed in her workout gear for a morning run. A part of her, simmering with the anger from the previous evening, expected at least some form of an apology from Devion. She lingered by the grand entrance for almost twenty minutes, deliberately making her presence known, while he sat in the dining room, calmly cruising through the financial pages of his newspaper. He offered no glance, no word, nothing. This deliberate ignorance stoked her anger further. In his eyes, it was probably nothing, but to her, his intense stare had been a violation, and he was being a colossal pervert. His pristine image in her mind began to tarnish, turning a shade darker.
Finally, she stormed out of the house and began her run, jogging down the tranquil, tree-lined paths of the valley with her headphones blasting music. This had been her usual and peaceful routine for the past week. But this morning was different. She was stopped by an old gardener, bent over and tending to some ornamental flowers by the path. "Sorry for stopping you," he said, his voice polite, his face crinkling into a gentle smile.
"No problem," Miller replied, pausing her workout music and pulling her headphone down.
"I just want to ask a few questions; I won't take much of your time," he said, the smile not leaving his face.
Miller gave a casual nod. "Alright."
"The world has become bad and crazy, you know," he began, his tone conversational. "During my days, if you snatched another woman's husband, you would be beheaded." He delivered the line with the same gentle smile, and Miller raised a brow.
"Young girls nowadays don't really care about that, especially those from the lower class," he continued, his eyes glinting. "They can do anything to get to the top, including snatching another woman's happiness."
At that, Miller laughed, a low, mocking sound that held no humor. She walked closer to him, her movements deceptively casual, and placed a hand on his shoulder. Her grip was firm. "You know," she said, her voice a soft, dangerous whisper, "there was a time when people, especially old men, used to mind their own businesses for fear of their mouths being sliced and cooked."
The man's smile strained. He tried to subtly pry her hand off his shoulder, but her grip only tightened, her fingers digging in like steel. The smile on his face became a pained grimace.
"But these days," Miller continued, her voice dropping even lower, "men just ramble all they want. Men, especially stupid old gardeners who don't know how to do their job."
Then, with a sudden, sickening crunch that shocked even her, she felt the joint give way. She had broken his shoulder, dislocating it entirely from its socket. The suddenness of it, the sheer, unnatural force she had exerted, left her momentarily stunned. The man cried out in agony, dropping his gardening tool. Clutching his useless arm, he stumbled back in horror and then hurried away out to the main road, where he scrambled into a waiting car. The car sped off immediately, leaving Miller standing on the path, shocked and very confused. How had her small frame generated enough strength to do that? Fear prickled at her spine. What if he called the police? How would she even begin to explain herself? One of the guards in the Valley heard the commotion and looked in her direction as if expecting an explanation, but Miller only put her headphone back on and headed back to the house.
---
Devion, on the other hand, had no knowledge of the confrontation in the valley or of Miller's simmering expectation for an apology for what happened the previous night. He saw no need for one; he had seen all of her before, so a mere glimpse of her collarbone was no significant event to him. His breakfast was soon served, and he had just begun eating when Ethan walked in.
"Good morning, sir," Ethan greeted.
Devion waved a hand in acknowledgement, not looking up from his plate.
"The code from last night, sir," Ethan said, his tone shifting to deep seriousness.
Devion paused and turned to look at him. "What did you find?"
"Almost nothing," Ethan admitted, a hint of frustration in his voice. "My computer got blown up, and I had to get a stronger one just to get this little information I have." He presented a thin file to Devion. "The code, sir, was used to label test subjects for a scientific project years ago. So whatever has that code on it was a test subject, but I couldn't find anything related to the project itself because my computer blew up again when I tried to access those files."
Devion's brows furrowed deeply. A test subject? Miller looked perfectly fine and normal to him. "Were there any records of Miller being strange in her previous files?"
"No, sir. Nothing at all." Ethan replied, his mind running again, 'Was Miller the one who had the code on?' he thought to himself.
Devion frowned even more. With every new search, Miller was proving to be deeper and more mysterious than he had initially thought, and it was a mystery that was beginning to consume his curiosity.