Chapter 3 Trouble Strikes Again

Adela was startled, immediately lowering her head to avoid Dexter’s lips. Dexter was tall, standing at 6'2", while she was only 5'6". His kiss landed awkwardly on the top of her head. A strange sensation spread through her body. Adela stomped hard on Dexter’s shoe, her voice firm, "Let me go!" Dexter released her, lowering his gaze to the new scuff mark on his freshly bought shoes. He smirked playfully. "Spend a night with me, and I’ll pay you too." Adela was taken aback by his mocking tone, stepping back as she clutched the wall for support, her chest heaving in anger. Her eyes locked onto Dexter, but after barely three seconds, her courage faltered, and she turned and ran off. Dexter waited until her figure disappeared from sight before leaning heavily against the wall. He pulled out a cigarette from his pocket and lit it, his frustration evident. …… Adela had no idea how she made it back home. Once inside, her throat felt raw and metallic, her chest tight as if she’d just run a grueling mile. Sliding weakly down the doorframe, she sat on the floor, gasping for air as she watched people pass by outside, her mind blank. Dexter’s taunts and the whispers of those two women echoed alternately in her ears. She let out a choked sob and buried her face deep in her knees. …… Night fell again. Tonight, Layson was sober. Compared to the previous night, he spoke less, but his repertoire of positions had expanded. As Adela trembled under him, Layson bit her ear and asked in a hoarse voice, "Do you like it?" Adela’s face turned red, unable to respond. Layson chuckled in satisfaction and lowered his head to seal her lips with a kiss. An hour later, Layson was leaning against the headboard, smoking a cigarette, when Adela’s phone buzzed on the bedside table. She was too exhausted, having fallen into a deep sleep, oblivious to the sound. Glancing at her cheap phone, Layson casually picked it up and answered. A woman’s shrill, panicked voice came through. "Adela, you need to come back! Your father gambled again, and now they’re threatening to take your sister away..." Layson: "..." He turned his head to look at the sleeping Adela, a flicker of pity crossing his usually indifferent face. Expressionless, he hung up the phone. After a moment of thought, he decided to wake her. "Adela." He patted her cheek, his voice rough in her ear. "Something’s happened at home." Adela shot up immediately. Layson hadn’t expected such a sudden reaction, and his hand jerked, scattering ash onto the bedsheet. She didn’t notice, instead hurriedly jumping out of bed to get dressed. Turning her head, she asked anxiously, "What happened?" Layson flicked the ash onto the floor. "Your stepmother called. She said your father went gambling again and lost your sister in a bet." Adela froze, her hands trembling as she held her skirt. Her eyes widened in shock, a mix of sourness and helplessness surging through her chest. She had no idea what to do. Tears streamed down her face as she hastily finished dressing, bowing her head to thank Layson. "Thank you for telling me." Seeing her unsteady on her feet, Layson hesitated for a moment before saying, "I’ll have Barnes go with you." Barnes was the assistant’s name. Adela didn’t refuse; in fact, she was deeply grateful. "Thank you, Mr. Norman." "No need to thank me." After calling Barnes, Layson told Adela to wait downstairs before starting to get dressed himself. Barnes arrived quickly. On the way, Adela made several calls to her family, but no one picked up. The thirty-minute drive felt endless, but it was shortened to just over ten minutes. As soon as they arrived, Adela jumped out of the car and stumbled toward the house. Barnes, following Layson’s instructions, carried a bag of money and hurried after her. "Watch your step; the road’s uneven. You don’t want to fall." Adela mumbled an acknowledgment through her tears, too distraught to notice the bag in his hand. Tonight, a thick fog hung in the air. It was past midnight, and the slums were eerily quiet in their slumber. Using the flashlight on his phone, Barnes guided them to the entrance of Adela’s home. The surrounding houses were dark and silent, but her home was brightly lit. The sounds of crashing and shouting from inside were unnerving. Adela had seen this scene countless times before, but it never failed to fill her with fear and helplessness. Barnes pushed the door open first. Inside, the cries of a child mixed with the angry shouts of men. Herbie was being dragged around by two men, wailing loudly. Ella stood in the middle, powerless, sobbing helplessly. Adela shouted, "Stop! Everyone, stop!" The room fell silent for a moment. All eyes turned to Adela as she stepped forward, her face tense, feigning authority. "How much does my father owe you?" These debt collectors weren’t the same ones as before. The leader, a man with small, beady eyes, looked her up and down with a lecherous grin. He rubbed his hands together. "Well, well, little beauty. Is Calvin your father?" Instinctively, Adela crossed her arms over her chest, repeating her question, "How much does he owe you?" "He’s not!" Calvin, sprawled on the floor, lifted his head to shout, "She’s not my daughter!" The man slapped him hard on the head, his tone warning. "Shut up! Say another word, and I’ll cut your tongue out!" Turning back to Adela, he leered. "Who would’ve thought Calvin had such a beautiful daughter? Let the kid go and take this one instead!" "Let’s see who dares!" The sound of a stick striking the wall froze everyone in their tracks. Even Barnes, who was about to step forward, stopped. Dexter strolled in, dragging an iron rod along the ground, a smirk playing on his lips. Seeing his face, Barnes inhaled sharply and instinctively greeted him, "Young Master?" "Get lost." Dexter’s expression shifted as he glanced at Barnes. "You must have me mistaken." "Ah." Barnes hesitated before quickly correcting himself. "My apologies..." The sound of the rod scraping against the floor echoed as Dexter walked over to Adela and shielded her behind him. "She’s my girl. Let’s see who’s brave enough to touch her." Dexter grabbed Adela’s hand, his presence firm and protective. Adela stared at his back in a daze, her mind blank. The leader stared at Dexter for a moment before hesitantly asking, "You’re Dexter Norman?" Dexter sneered. "Oh? My reputation precedes me?" Hearing him confirm it, the leader’s expression shifted. Dexter was not a name to be taken lightly. Rumor had it he had once killed a mafia boss. His background was mysterious, and no one dared cross him. And now he was holding an iron rod... Barnes, now certain of Dexter’s identity, stepped forward with the bag of money. "Here’s two hundred thousand dollars. Check how much more is needed." Adela was stunned. Two hundred thousand dollars? Did Mr. Norman send this? As her thoughts spiraled, Dexter turned and gave her a shocking look. In the dim light, it made her feel momentarily dizzy.