Chapter Nine

"Vanessa!" Andrea’s voice barked into the receiver the exact second he hit the green button, his tone heavy with practiced authority, impatience, and raw agitation. "Where on earth are you?! We’ve been sitting in this miserable, sweltering apartment for hours! You knew the agreement was eight o'clock sharp!"

Across the asphalt road inside her ice-cold, climate-controlled command center, Miss Axerold sat back in her ergonomic executive leather chair. On her central monitor, a high-definition 4K optical feed showed Andrea standing in the middle of his living room, his linen shirt damp, rumpled, and stained with dark rings of sweat around the collar.

She took a slow, deliberate sip of iced sparkling water, letting the silence stretch across the line just long enough to hear his heavy, frustrated breathing turn shallow and sharp.

When she finally spoke, her tone softened into a deliberate, apologetic tremble that practically radiated helpless panic. "Andrea... I am so, so sorry," Vanessa said, letting a faint, breathless rasp leak into her voice through the receiver. "I was already on my way down the hill, but I got completely caught up trying to make sure everything was absolutely perfect for your family."

Inside the muggy living room, Veronica snatched the smartphone right out of Andrea’s hand, pressing her ear directly against the speaker while her face contorted in a dark red flush of violent rage.

"You were on your way?!" Veronica shrieked into the microphone, her sharp, screeching voice echoing off the cramped concrete walls and waking little Leo, who began to whine softly on the couch. "You live directly opposite us, girl! You are right across the street in that multi-million dollar estate, and you couldn't hurry down here?! We have been sitting here sweating in forty-degree heat for hours while you take your sweet time!"

"I know, Mother Veronica, please don't be angry with me," Vanessa pleaded smoothly, playing her role as the submissive, eager-to-please bride with surgical precision. "The only reason I delayed is because I've been personally supervising the deep-cleaning crew and the high-end interior decorators inside the main house. I am getting all your rooms ready right now. I want you, Andrea, Susan, and little Leo to move in as soon as possible so you don't have to spend another miserable hour in that foul apartment."

Veronica’s furious expression froze. The sharp, screaming rage on her face instantly melted away, replaced by an expression of wide-eyed, ravenous greed. She exchanged a swift, breathless look with Susan, who gasped softly and clutched Andrea's bare, sweaty forearm in sheer delight.

"Getting our rooms ready?" Veronica repeated, her voice suddenly losing every single ounce of its aggressive bite. "The primary master suite as well?"

"Everything," Vanessa reassured her softly through the speaker, her voice a calm, hypnotic lure. "The central air conditioning in the master suites is already running at full power, the fresh silk linens are laid out, and the electronic master key fobs are being recoded for your personal access. I just need a little more time to finalize the security protocols with the estate supervisor. Please, just wait for me. I'll be over shortly."

Andrea reclaimed his phone from his mother's hand, a triumphant, insufferably smug grin spreading across his damp features. "Fine, Vanessa," he said, puffing out his chest as he re-established his patronizing, dominant tone. "We will give you a little more time. But make it quick. Don't keep my family waiting again."

"I won't," Vanessa replied softly, and terminated the call before he could utter another word.

Inside the stifling third-floor apartment, a wave of immense relief and bloated arrogance swept through the hot room.

"See?" Andrea boasted, tossing his smartphone onto the worn couch cushion and looking at his mother and sister with insufferable pride. "What did I tell you both? She wasn't ignoring us. She was just running around like an obedient servant, making sure the palace is fit for us before we step foot inside. She’s bringing us straight into a fully prepped, ice-cold villa."

"I knew she wouldn't dare play games with you!" Susan giggled, pressing her shoulder close against Andrea’s. "Mummy, we should start packing all our luggage right now!"

"Leave the old clothes in the closet," Veronica declared haughtily, sitting down on the edge of a dining chair and fanning herself with a glossy luxury home catalog. "We're moving into a two-million-dollar hilltop estate today. Why would we drag this dusty, cheap trash across the road? We will wait for her."

So they waited.

Ten PM came and went with no sound at the door, the heavy silence outside broken only by the occasional hum of passing vehicles down the street.

Midnight arrived. The heat inside the apartment grew increasingly oppressive and suffocating, the stagnant air smelling faintly of spoiled milk and unwashed laundry as the cheap plastic ceiling fan groaned uselessly overhead, doing nothing more than pushing hot dust around the room.

By two AM, Susan had completely passed out on the worn couch next to sleeping Leo, her cheap makeup smeared across her sticky cheeks from the relentless heat and sweat.

By four AM, the suffocating 40°C environment had completely broken the rest of the family's physical resolve. Andrea lay slouched across an armchair, his mouth hanging open, snoring lightly through his parched, dry throat.

Even Veronica, despite her furious rage and stubborn pride, couldn't fight off the sheer physical exhaustion of sitting up all night in the muggy darkness. She slumped back in her hard chair, her head tilted awkwardly against her chest, fast asleep in her sticky, sweat-stained clothes.

The entire apartment sat in a heavy, dead, and suffocating stillness until exactly **6:00 AM**.

*BANG! BANG! BANG!*

Three sharp, thunderous knocks echoed off the heavy wooden front door, tearing through the quiet morning apartment like a sudden gunshot.

Veronica jolted awake with a sharp, gasping breath, her bloodshot eyes snapping open as a shooting pain throbbed through her stiff neck. Susan shrieked softly in panic, bolting upright on the couch while little Leo burst into startled, weary tears.

Andrea scrambled frantically out of the armchair, nearly tripping over his own feet as his heart hammered violently against his ribs. Disoriented, exhausted, and sweating profusely, he rubbed his tired, swollen eyes, cleared his dry throat, and stumbled toward the entrance.

He pulled back the iron deadbolt and swung the wooden door wide open.

"You took your sweet time, Vanessa," Andrea grumbled, leaning heavily against the doorframe, trying to force an impatient smirk onto his groggy, sweat-streaked face. "I hope everything is ready."