The expensive mistake.

Home alone

As the clock struck midnight, the soft glow of her bedside lamp illuminated Tricelle's room, casting gentle shadows on the walls. She lay under the cozy blanket, surrounded by the comforting fragrance of lavender, but sleep eluded her.

Instead, her mind replayed the words of the text message she’d received hours earlier—a cryptic and threatening message that made her heart race and palms sweat.

"You think you can hide from us? We will find you..."

Tricelle had stared at her phone in disbelief, the bright screen reflecting her wide, startled eyes. Who could have sent it? Was it some cruel joke? Or something more sinister?

Drawing a deep breath, Tricelle stared at the ceiling, her thoughts a jumbled mess. If she told Eric, would it worry him? Would he insist on confronting whoever had sent the message? Or kill them…

She also had in a way told him that they should keep their distance from each other.

She missed the feeling of security that came when she was in her own apartment. Now she didn't have any place to call her own.

After hours of rolling around in the large bed, Tricelle finally fell asleep.

Late the next morning, Tricelle blinked her eyes open, stretching under the soft covers of her sheets, feeling the remnants of sleep slowly melt away. She was still tired, but the little sleep she got made a big difference.

As she slid out of bed and padded down the spiraling staircase, Tricelle's mind wandered.

She needed to see her lawyers and get everything ready for the court case, she needed to call Leya and ask her to manage all her meetings and paperwork. Tricelle knew Leya would automatically do it, but still she needed to ask.

Following her instinct to where the kitchen could be, she walked carefully staring at the elegant penthouse as she moved.

Entering the kitchen, Tricelle suddenly froze, her breath catching in her throat, she found Anton.

She was only wearing a large shirt, but at least it covered everything to her knees.

“Anton? What are you doing here so early?” Tricelle asked, her surprise evident.

“Good morning, Miss Wincher. It's not that early." Anton said with a grin, pouring fresh brewed coffee for her.

"Eric had a late-night meeting that ran longer than expected. He is still out.” He said.

Anton was a man of presence, much like Eric. His watchful eyes scanned the city below as he sipped his coffee. His sense of calm made Tricelle feel safe.

Anton," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, trembling with vulnerability. "I need to talk to you… about a message."

His expression shifted from casual to immediate concern. "Miss Wincher, what message?”

Taking a deep breath, she glanced away, fearing the reality that had started to creep into her thoughts. “Last night, I received a message.” She hesitated but felt the weight of his gaze urging her to continue. “They said 'You think you can hide from us, we will find you."

Anton’s jaw tightened, and a shadow darkened his features. “Why are you telling me?”

“I told you, because I don’t want Eric to focus on my problems now, I also think he will do something reckless.”

Anton nodded slowly, the weight of her words settling heavily on his shoulders. He knew Eric better than anyone else, and he could see that he was protective of Tricelle.

“I can keep you safe without involving him, but we need to take this seriously. I will investigate the source of the messages. In the meantime, don’t engage with anything that feels off.”

Tricelle’s heart fluttered with both relief and apprehension. She trusted Anton, he had a big friendly aura around him.

Anton took another sip of his coffee before a broad smile appeared on his face.

“Stay here.”

Anton placed his cup on the counter and left the kitchen. She could hear him in the room next door. Frowning at what he was doing.

Anton took a breath, stepped inside, cradling Mister Fuzz in a blanket as gently as possible. “I have a surprise for you,”

Tricelle’s eyes widened as she caught sight of the gray blur peeking out from the blanket.

“Mister Fuzz!” she gasped, reaching out eagerly to take the bundle from him. Anton placed the blanket and cat in Tricelle's arms, seeing her face lit up.

As her fingers brushed against the soft fur, she felt the gentle purring against her chest, tears of joy welled in her eyes.

“Oh, my sweet boy,” she murmured, nuzzling her cheek against the cat’s head. “I was so worried about you!”

Anton couldn’t help but smile at the heartwarming scene before him.

“He’s okay, Miss Wincher. He just needed a little TLC,” he said, stepping back to give her the moment she deserved.

“This is the best surprise ever! Thank you, Anton! You have no idea how much this means to me!” Her voice trembled with gratitude. As she cradled Mister Fuzz, the gray cat began to purr louder, snuggling into her neck, the heaviness of the restless night dissipating like fog in the morning sun.

“You know he saved me. Like a guard dog he bit and scratched that man.” Tricelle said with a soft, chuckle.

“We figured that out, we saw the coroner’s report,” Anton said. The smile on Tricelle’s face faded.

She was haunted by the memory of his dying gaze, filled with rage and despair. Couldn’t she have just run? Fought differently? The guilt gnawed at her, an insistent whisper questioning her choices. She had killed a man.

Tricelle struggled to articulate the whirlwind of emotions thrumming through her. “I killed him, Anton. I... I killed a man.”

His response didn’t break the gravity of the moment; instead, it radiated strength and clarity. “You didn’t kill just anyone,” he said softly, but firmly. “You killed someone who would have taken your life. He deserved it.”

“But I...” she faltered, her voice catching in her throat. The weight of the act bore down upon her like lead. “I shouldn’t have had to do it. I should have found a way out.”

Anton shook his head, his expression unwavering. “You could be dead right now, Tricelle. You fought back when the only other option was becoming a victim. You protected yourself. Don’t let the guilt consume you when you did what you had to do to survive.”

Tricelle slowly nodded. Knowing he was right.

Anton looked at her and spoke in a stern voice, "Don't ever feel bad taking someone's life, if yours is on the line."

Tricelle silently continued to brush Mister Fuzz's fur, staring at him with unshed tears.

“On a lighter note, Eric has been invited to a charity gala. I presume he is going to ask you. So I arranged a stylist to come here.”

Tricelle looked up, surprised.

"Charity event?"

Anton had a mischief smile,

"Yes, your mother's one... Eric asked me to do a little digging into your family after no one came to visit you in the hospital."

Tricelle was silent, the sting of betrayal was still in her heart, nothing she could say could defend them.

“I first need to see my lawyers. Would it be okay if they came here?” Tricelle said, ignoring his comment on her family.

Anton narrowed his eyes, understanding that she didn't want to talk about her family.

“Miss Wincher, Eric… Mister Black has opened his home to you. You may do as you please.”

Tricelle gave a faint smile.

“When do you think Eric will be home?” She asked, curious.

“I honestly don’t know. Usually he comes home, but it is strange that he still hasn't come home."

Tricelle felt a sinking feeling in her stomach when she realized he was avoiding her, after she pushed him away.

"No more deals." Tricelle whispered to herself.