NOVEL NEXT Chapter 13: Face-slapping!
Fifteen minutes earlier.
The mall manager, hoping to earn favor, discreetly contacted Derek, Alexander's assistant. He sent a photo of Veronica with her swollen cheek and Aurora standing nearby, claiming that Veronica had been bullied. Derek, mindful of the care Alexander had always shown Veronica, wasted no time rushing to his boss to inform him of the situation.
Seeing the photo and assuming Aurora was causing trouble again, Alexander immediately headed to the mall, his expression dark.
Aurora regained her composure, yanking her arm free from Alexander's grip with a flick of her wrist, as though his touch carried a contamination she refused to bear. She briskly wiped the spot he had touched, her face betraying no emotion. Pressing a hand to her chest, she whispered inwardly, it seems the original Aurora still trembles in his presence. Don't worry—I'll make you so strong that no one will ever dare to lay a finger on you again.
Alexander, watching her reaction, felt an uncharacteristic jolt of surprise. The indifference in her eyes, so unlike the timid woman he remembered, left him momentarily stunned.
Aurora broke the silence, her voice steady and cold. "You can ask your little lover here," she said, her gaze flickering toward Veronica. Turning to the store manager, she added, "Now, are you going to call the police, or would you rather apologize to me?"
Moxie scoffed, stepping forward with her usual arrogance. "Dreaming, are we? Why should we apologize when we've done nothing wrong? Fine, if jail is what you want, let me help you get there."
Alexander's eyes glinted with cold fury as he snarled, "Aurora, stop your damn tricks. You disgust me. Have you forgotten the lesson from last time? And now, here you are, stirring up trouble again. Aren't you ashamed? Thrown out of the Brown villa, and now resorting to theft and dragging my name through the mud—do you have a death wish?"
Aurora scoffed, "If you have a brain sickness, go and see a psychiatrist Mr. Brown.
The police arrived quickly, and after assessing the scene, they turned to Aurora. "Miss, we need you to come to the station with us for further questioning."
Aurora's gaze didn't waver. "Are you sure you want me to go to the station without verifying the facts? No investigation? Just hearsay?"
The store manager interjected, "The crowd saw it, and Mr. Brown himself believes you're guilty. These are reputable people—why would they lie? Please cooperate."
Aurora said no more and willingly followed the officers, but on the way, she discreetly accessed software on her phone, typing a quick message.
Elsewhere, Jeremiah was locked in a deadly fight. The ringtone on his phone, one he hadn't heard in ages, froze him mid-motion. His opponent lunged, but Jeremiah, recovering instantly, dispatched him with ruthless efficiency. Once the fight was over, he grabbed his phone, his eyes widening at the message on the screen.
Without hesitation, he called the sender, but the call was cut off. Moments later, a message arrived: Not now. We'll talk later.
At the police station, Aurora was seated in the interrogation room, waiting calmly. She offered no explanation, her demeanor unshaken. Fifteen minutes later, a tall man entered the room—a lawyer whose presence exuded authority.
Without a word, he presented documents to the officers, effectively ending the questioning. "Miss Aurora," he said, turning to her, "you're free to leave."
As they descended to the ground floor, the police chief approached Aurora, his face pale. He bowed apologetically. "Miss Smith, I must sincerely apologize for today's mistake. I've already suspended the officers responsible. They'll face disciplinary action for their negligence."
Aurora nodded slightly, her face impassive.
Veronica, Alexander and her two friends stared in stunned silence. They couldn't believe their eyes as the country's top-ranked lawyer—internationally renowned Mr. Grifford—stood by Aurora's side.
They came to provide their testaments to the police station. Veronica to maintain a pitiful and kind demeanor refrained from speaking against Aurora but her every testament was pointed towards Aurora.
"How…?" Veronica stammered, her face swollen and her expression twisting with disbelief. "How did Aurora manage to hire someone like him? It's impossible!"
Veronica, regaining some composure, stepped forward, her voice trembling with mock concern. "Sister, were you kidnapped? Or threatened? Are you coerced by someone to stay by his side? How on earth do you know Mr. Grifford? He is known for both his legal and illegal world. His reaches were deep. His fee cost millions—was he arranged by… your boyfriend?" She added the last word with calculated malice. "But, Sister, your divorce isn't even finalized yet. How could you be involved with another man already?"
Before Aurora could respond, her lawyer stepped forward, handing Veronica a document. His voice was sharp and precise. "Miss Smith, this is a court order. My client, Miss Aurora Smith, has filed a defamation suit against you and your accomplices for slander."
With that, Aurora and the lawyer turned to leave. But at the doorway, Aurora paused, glancing back at the Ex-Husband. "Mr. Brown," she said coolly, "Friday at the city courthouse. 10 a.m. sharp."
Her tone brooked no argument, and with that, she left.
Exhausted, Aurora hailed a cab and returned home. Today's ordeal had drained her patience. She glanced at her phone and typed another message to Jeremiah: I'm alive. We'll talk later when I'm free. For now, make sure Murphy and Dave's families pay. And bankrupt Hemelia Store.
Sighing, she set her phone aside and stared out at the cityscape. Her mind drifted to her predicament. How do I even begin to explain all this to him? Would he believe I've been reborn in a completely different body? Absurd!
After finishing her chores, Aurora gathered her gadgets, modified her laptop, and accessed a secure system. The screen filled with streams of red and white code as her fingers flew over the keyboard. She updated her home's AI-based security system, locking it to her biometric data—fingerprint, voice, and retinal scans. Any breach would immediately alert her closest subordinates.
She made her way to the underground garage, her eyes scanning the lineup of luxury cars before settling on the most inconspicuous one—a charcoal gray Aston Martin V8 Vantage. Sleek yet understated, it was the perfect choice. Without hesitation, she slid into the driver's seat, the engine humming to life as she steered the car out of the hidden driveway and headed toward the outskirts of the city.