Chapter 58: 58 | Meeting Rachael Again
"No."
The sharp response came from the living room.
Mira did not even hesitate. She turned her head toward the kitchen, her eyes narrowing. "I don’t want some stranger in our house, touching my wheelchair, looking at my legs, and whispering about our families behind our backs. We are not charity cases for the public to gawk at."
Selene, who was carefully rinsing the soap from her fingers, also shook her head and spoke with a quiet voice. "Same."
Dexter chuckled softly, shaking his head. He knew their pride was still a tad sensitive. They had gone from being highly respected young ladies of prominent families to being hunted, crippled outcasts living in a cheap bungalow.
The last thing they wanted was some stranger witnessing their daily struggles and looking down on them with pity.
"Alright, alright," Dexter said, raising his hands in a placating gesture. "No caretakers. It was just a thought. We will keep things exactly as they are."
Besides, with the ’Type-5 House Protection Talisman’ fully active and his own strength rising, he felt much more comfortable leaving them alone now. The bungalow was practically a fortress.
Just as Dexter was about to reach for the kitchen towel to dry Selene’s hands—
’Knock. Knock. Knock.’
A series of sharp knocks echoed from the heavy wooden front door.
Instantly, Dexter’s body went on high alert.
His ears twitched as his ’Enhanced Hearing’ talent activated. Through his mental connection with the ’Type-5 House Protection Talisman’, he felt a sudden, distinct ripple in the invisible dome surrounding the property.
Someone had entered the front yard. They had walked straight up the cracked concrete path and were now standing on the porch.
Dexter’s eyes narrowed, a cold, dangerous light flashing through his pupils. His mind immediately went to Kreg and then the assassins on the bridge.
His face turned cold as killing intent radiated off him like a beast.
With heavy footsteps, he walked toward the front door.
He looked through the small, dusty peephole.
The tension in his shoulders vanished instantly, replaced by pure awkwardness.
Standing on the front porch, dressed in a sleek, tight-fitting white suit that accentuated her stunning curves, was Rachel.
Her long, dark red hair was tied back in a neat ponytail, and she was holding a leather folder against her chest. She looked perfectly professional, yet highly fashionable.
Dexter let out a slow, quiet sigh, let go of the kitchen knife, and unlocked the deadbolt.
He opened the door.
"Rachel?" he blinked, sounding genuinely surprised. "What are you doing here so early?"
The beautiful woman smiled brightly, her green eyes sparkling with warmth as she looked at him.
"Good morning, Dexter," she said, her voice carrying a cheerful, melodic tone.
Before he could even take a step back or say another word, she stepped forward into the doorway, wrapped her arms around his neck, and gave him a warm, enthusiastic hug.
Dexter’s entire body went completely stiff.
He stood there like a stone statue, his hands hovering awkwardly in the air, not knowing where to put them.
He could smell her perfume, a subtle, expensive scent of fresh lilies and mint, and feel the soft, warm curve of her body pressed against his chest.
A second later, Rachel stepped back with a playful, teasing smile, her eyes scanning his face.
Meanwhile, somewhere directly behind him—
The temperature in the living room dropped by at least two degrees in a fraction of a second.
Dexter did not need to turn around to know that three pairs of cold eyes were currently drilling holes into his back. He pretended not to notice, keeping his focus firmly on the woman in front of him.
Rachel looked past him, her eyes wandering into the living room. "Aren’t you going to invite me inside, Dexter? It’s a bit chilly out here on the porch."
Dexter wanted to face palm. ’Are you trying to get yourself killed?’
He cleared his throat awkwardly, stepping aside to make room. "Right. Of course. Please, come in."
Rachel entered the bungalow, her high heels clicking sharply against the wooden floorboards.
She looked around the small, modest room with genuine curiosity.
She did not show any signs of disgust or pity at the simple, cheap furniture or the worn-out rugs. Instead, she nodded with quiet appreciation.
"It’s a nice place, Dexter. Simple, cozy, and very clean. You’ve taken good care of it."
"It’s enough for us," Dexter shrugged, closing the heavy wooden door behind her and locking it. He looked toward her. "Would you like something to drink? I have some tea, juice, or water."
Rachel turned to him, her smile widening. "Tea would be wonderful, thank you."
Dexter blinked. Usually, when visitors came to a modest home, they would politely refuse to avoid causing trouble for the host. He had only asked out of basic politeness, expecting her to decline so they could get straight to business.
But Rachel seemed completely at ease, as if she was visiting an old friend rather than a client.
"Alright," Dexter nodded. "Give me a couple of minutes."
He walked back into the kitchen, leaving Rachel standing in the center of the living room.
Left alone, Rachel’s gaze wandered around the space once more before finally landing on the sofa, and then on the wheelchair.
Mira was sitting perfectly still, her hands resting on her lap. She slowly turned her head toward Rachel.
Their eyes met.
Rachel smiled politely, giving a small, professional nod. "Hello there."
Mira did not smile. She did not nod. She simply stared at Rachel with an expressionless, cold, and incredibly heavy gaze that seemed to freeze the very air between them.
The temperature in the corner of the room rose by another degree, a faint trace of flame seem to lit up in Mira’s eyes.
A second later, Mira slowly turned her head away, ignoring Rachel completely as if she was nothing more than a piece of cheap, uninteresting furniture.
Rachel coughed awkwardly, her smile faltering for a brief moment. She had met many powerful, arrogant heroes in her line of work, but the sheer, fiery pride radiating from this paralyzed girl was genuinely intimidating.
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