The following morning, Miller walked downstairs like every usual morning, and Devion, just like the previous day, hadn't left for work. He was in the sitting room, deep in conversation with Ethan and another man she didn't recognize, a burly, serious-looking individual. She didn't care. She had no intention of engaging with him this morning; the hope for an apology for anything he does had long since evaporated. She was nearly at the door when his cold and questioning voice stopped her.
"Why didn't you mention that you were attacked yesterday?"
She paused, turning slowly. "Me?"
"Yes," he replied, his tone utterly bland.
"I wasn't attacked," Miller stated, genuinely confused.
Ethan, standing slightly behind Devion, silently agreed with her words. The high-definition CCTV footage from the valley path had shown a very different story: she hadn't been attacked; she had been the one who dislocated the infiltrator's shoulder with terrifying, effortless ease.
"If it was about the gardener," she continued, a flicker of unease in her eyes, "I don't know how it happened. I didn't break his hand on purpose." Before anyone could question her further, she turned and hurried out, the door clicking shut behind her.
The other man in the room was Ricardo, the head of security for the estate. He discreetly wiped a sheen of cold sweat from his brow. He had seen the footage. The casual, almost lazy way she had gripped the man's shoulder, and suddenly his hand came loose under her grip while she was still talking to him, he had seen it; she exerted hardly any force. And she claimed it wasn't on purpose? Where in God's name did Sir Devion find this new wife? he thought. He used to think Adele was proud and sassy, but this... this one was on another level of terrifying.
"You allowed someone to infiltrate my residence," Devion stated, his voice dropping to a dangerous, icy calm, his focus now on Ricardo.
Ricardo fell to his knees immediately, his head bowed. "I am sorry, sir! I promise it won't happen again!"
"Of course, it won't," Devion said, standing up. "Hand your job to Stanley's team."
Ricardo looked up, his face shock and devastation walking to his face. He was being dismissed. His voice trembled, his eyes red with shame. "Yes, sir."
But Devion's next words froze him. "You and your team are now reassigned. Your sole duty is to trail and protect Miller."
Ricardo was stunned into silence for a moment before finding his voice. "Yes, sir! "I promise I won't fail!" he said, though he privately doubted a woman who could dismantle a man with one hand would need much protection. Ethan, observing the exchange, was more intrigued than ever. Was his boss developing a genuine interest in Miller, or was this merely intense curiosity? He couldn't tell, and all he could do was watch, eager to see how everything would unfold.
---
Miller didn't go jogging like every morning. Instead, she went straight to the hospital, a knot of anxiety in her stomach. She needed to get checked out to understand what was happening to her body. After a battery of tests, the doctors confirmed she was completely fine. The results were perfectly normal. But she knew they were wrong. She hadn't imagined dislocating that man's shoulder, the change in eye color, or shifting the bed. She had suddenly gotten some kind of superpower. With a deep, frustrated sigh, she slipped the test results into her pocket and headed outside, deciding to clear her head at the nearby driving park.
But she never made it. Just outside the hospital's main entrance, a white van screeched to a halt, blocking her path. Before she could even process the threat, the side door slid open and a troop of rough-looking goons swarmed out, surrounding her instantly, cutting off any chance of escape. These were Nico's men, led by Taryl. Miller was completely clueless about their identity, her heart hammering against her ribs.
The sudden violent scene made the people at the hospital entrance freeze in fear. "Get in!" one of the goons snarled, grabbing her arm.
Miller, utterly terrified, tried to reason with them. "We can easily talk this out..." she began, but she was suddenly shoved violently towards the van. Out of sheer, primal instinct to survive, her body moved on its own. She jabbed her elbow backward with shocking speed and force into the ribs of the man closest to her, and she felt it break. He crumpled to the pavement, gasping for air and clutching his chest in agony.
The other men, enraged by the retaliation, moved in to grab her more violently. But just at that moment, the distinct, deafening sound of gunshots filled the air.
Crack! Crack! Crack!
A rain of bullets tore into the concrete around them. From the rooftops of every tall building surrounding the hospital, foreign men dressed in head-to-toe, uniformed brown were firing down with murderous precision. Three of Nico's goons fell dead immediately, their bodies hitting the ground before they could even raise their own weapons. The enemy was too far away, their fire too accurate to fight back. Panic erupted. The area descended into pure chaos as civilians screamed and ran for cover.
"Go! Go drive!" Taryl yelled, abandoning their mission. The remaining goons scrambled back into the van, which sped away with a squeal of tires, leaving Miller, their intended target, crouched on the ground, stunned and alone.
Miller had seen the uniformed men on the rooftops, but the moment she looked back up, they had vanished as suddenly as they appeared. Still confused and trembling, unable to grasp any of what had just happened, she shakily stood up.
Suddenly, she was surrounded again, this time by a convoy of sleek, black luxury vehicles that boxed her in. Her adrenaline spiked anew. Thinking it was another attack, she turned and ran back into the hospital lobby, slipping through panicked staff and patients.
She could hear multiple footsteps following her and voices yelling, "Madam, Madam, wait!"
She didn't stop until a familiar figure stepped directly into her path, his hands raised placatingly. It was Ricardo; she didn't know him except she had seen him with Devion just that morning.
Breathing heavily, she stared at him, her eyes wide with fear and confusion. "What's going on?" she asked, her blonde hair messy from all the running and pulling.
"We don't know either," Ricardo said, his voice calm and steady. "We just came to help you get home."
"How did you find my whereabouts?" Miller asked, trying to calm her racing heart.
"We were in the neighborhood," Ricardo replied immediately, the lie smooth and practiced. He couldn't possibly tell her they had been frantically searching for her location to trail her and had arrived just a moment too late to realize a chaos had ensued with Sir Devion's wife, who was supposed to be ordinary.
Miller, exhausted and with no other options, had no choice but to believe him. With a hesitant nod, she allowed herself to be escorted to one of the waiting black cars, reasoning that, for now at least, they were the more trustworthy option in a day that had spiraled into madness.