Chapter 173: The Fifth Slot
"Did you get a chance to speak with her?" Xavier asked gently. "Did she tell you where she came from?"
"No," April said, her brows drawing together. "She was terrified. She kept checking her watch, crying that her stepmother would punish her if she wasn’t back in her room before the midnight guard rotation. She begged for a reading regarding her sick mother, but then she panicked and ran away. She said she would come back tomorrow, which is tonight since it is already past midnight"
Xavier let out a slow, heavy breath, leaning back slightly in his chair. "A sick mother... a strict stepmother... it sounds remarkably like one of those old corporate family dramas."
April blinked, her flat gaze returning to him. "You watch dramas, Xavier?"
Xavier’s lips twitched into a very faint, tiny smile, though his eyes remained deeply serious. "No. But my executive secretaries gossip about them in the breakrooms during late-night shifts. Stories of twins separated at birth, hidden inheritances, mistresses, and stepmothers keeping secrets until a sudden revelation unravels the estate are quite popular."
"Her stepmother..." April repeated softly. "Yes. This does sound like one of those stories."
Xavier watched her for a moment. He was grateful she had decided to speak with him regarding what was troubling her, but he felt just as confused and felt bad that he could not be of much help to easing her confusion.
He could use his resources to find the woman and be of better help, but April did not come to him to ask for help. She simply also bare what was troubling her. He did not want to overstep by overdoing it.
"Instead of forcing your mind to solve a puzzle with missing pieces, April, why don’t you wait until you can speak with her tonight?" Xavier suggested calmly. "You will get your answers directly from her, won’t you?"
"Yes," April muttered, though her voice lacked conviction. "I will. But... I cannot get it out of my head. It feels entirely bizarre. I feel... lost."
Seeing her posture crumble under the weight of her thoughts, Xavier stood up smoothly. He walked around the head of the table until he was standing directly behind her chair. With a slow, incredibly gentle movement, he rested both of his broad, warm hands flat against her shoulders, grounding her with his steady weight.
"You will figure it out, April," Xavier said, his voice deep and absolute, carrying the unshakeable confidence he held in her. "You always do."
April felt the warm pressure of his hands on her shoulders, the grounding heat cutting through the cold knot in her chest.
"Yeah," she whispered. "I can."
Xavier slowly lifted his hands, stepping back to give her space. April stood up from her chair, smoothing down her blazer. "I’ll be heading up to my room now. Goodnight, Xavier."
"Goodnight, April."
Upstairs in her bedroom, the dark space was silent except for the quiet breathing of Lily and Rufus sleeping near the corner rug.
April lay flat on her bed, staring up at the high, shadowed ceiling.
Same face. Same nose. Same eyes.
She turned onto her side, pulling the duvet over her shoulders, her dark eyes wide in the gloom. This had never happened in her past life. In her previous timeline, she had stayed locked in the Morgan household as a pathetic servant, never setting foot in the black market, never opening a fortune-telling stall, and never crossing paths with the Gabriel family.
What if I actually had a family? she thought, the question echoing in the quiet room until sleep finally dragged her under.
What if all along, her suffering at the Morgans has been devised by someone? It didn’t seem impossible at this point.
The next morning passed in a tense, focused blur.
During their daytime helicopter flight lessons over the mountain perimeter, Xavier noticed her distraction, gently asking if she had slept well or if the thought of the girl was still bothering her.
April simply told him she was fine, but her focus was completely fixed on the coming evening.
"I need you to transfer the funds now," April said, to Nat.
The sun had gone down and he had come to pick her up like usual. Thanks to the bizarre situation the previous night, he did not get to tell her about how well the sales of the miracle water were.
It raked in capital two times the amount they had gotten from the first day. The billionaires and rich tycoons really came prepared. And thanks to that, the tax aside, April had gotten more than the needed amount for the renovations, fortifications and even had a lot more to keep for herself.
"Wire the rest of the thirty-eight billion directly to the primary construction crewmen."
Since they already sent out the 23 billion for the materials to be procured. What they needed to send next was simply 15 billion and April had more than enough.
Nat kept one hand lazy on the steering wheel, his eyes resting entirely on her sharp, unreadable profile as she explained what she needed him to do.
The casual way in which she talked about money would be staggering to anyone else, but to Nat, it was the rigid, unnatural quiet in her posture that drew his attention.
Slowly, he took her phone to get the account details displayed there. But even after he was done, he didn’t pull his hand back. He reached across the space separating them, his long fingers gently brushed against her cheek, sliding a loose strand of brown hair behind her ear.
His touch was warm, hovering near her jawline just a second longer than necessary.
"You know," Nat whispered, his eyes darkening with a rare, quiet sincerity as he leaned in slightly. "I didn’t know watching someone else be tense could make me so tense as well. And the worst part is... I don’t even know how to cheer you up."
April didn’t flinch away from his touch, though her eyes flicked up to meet his gaze behind his tinted shades.
"Then don’t waste your energy trying," April replied flatly, her voice entirely devoid of panic. "Nat, you’re not cut out for emotional entertainment and you know it."
A low, quiet chuckle escaped Nat’s chest. He slowly withdrew his hand, a faint, familiar smirk returning to his lips. "Brutal as always, sweetheart. But at least you’re still talking."
By 8:30 PM, April was already seated behind her velvet-draped table in the deep upper sector of the black market.
Her black mask was tied securely behind her ears, the clear crystalline orb resting in the center of the table. Outside her curtain, the alleyway was already buzzing with a heavy crowd.
Word of the ’mysterious seer’ had spread, and wealthy patrons were competing to secure a spot before her daily limit ran out.
The first customer stepped in. Then the second.
April handled their readings with clinical, detached efficiency, taking their millions and dismissing them in minutes.
The old man, Hector, even came back to tackle the issue with his family because he had found clues about his second son being involved in a few questionable acts.
He was the third customer and she fished with him, taking the balance he hadn’t paid the previous night and paying a fresh amount of fifty million for a new reading. He was that desperate.
He left soon after he got his answers but it only made April more anxious.
Under the wooden table, her foot was tapping impatiently against the stone floor. Her eyes kept darting toward the dark velvet curtain of the stall entrance, waiting for a grey cloak to push through.
Nine o’clock came and went. Then ten o’clock.
By 11:00 PM, a fourth customer had finished their reading and left.