Chapter 87: An Old Face

Emerald’s POV

I stared at the screen for a few seconds before typing: "Good afternoon, Michael."

Then I added another message: "I’ve seen my test score. I got 9%."

I hesitated briefly before typing the next one: "Why do I feel that I deserve more than 9% marks?"

After sending the messages, I put my phone away and returned my attention to the rest of my day.

By the time my classes ended, Michael still hadn’t read my messages.

I checked my phone one last time while walking towards the car park, but nothing had changed. I didn’t take it personally.

Michael had his own life and responsibilities outside the classroom, and I knew that better than most people.

Elias and I walked towards the car park together, continuing our earlier discussion about the test results until we reached the point where our cars were parked in different directions.

"See you tomorrow," he said.

"See you."

I watched him walk to his car before getting into my car.

My refrigerator in the dorm had been getting emptier over the past few days, and I had been meaning to restock it.

Since I had finished my classes early enough to spare some time, I decided to stop at the grocery store before going back to my dorm.

I started my car and pulled out of the school car park.

---

I parked my Jeep in the grocery store car park and stepped out.

The afternoon was still busy, with people moving in and out of the shopping centre. I reached for my phone as I headed toward the entrance and noticed that Michael had sent me a voice note.

I pressed play.

His voice immediately filled my ear.

"If you want an explanation for your score, then you have to book a special consultation with me."

I smiled before the voice note had even finished playing. For some reason, hearing him say that amused me more than it should have.

I stepped into the shopping centre and recorded a reply.

"Are you becoming stingy with your time now, Professor King?"

I sent the voice note and continued toward the grocery store.

Once inside, I picked up a trolley and opened the shopping list on my phone. I had made it earlier that morning after realising there were several things I needed to restock in my dorm.

I started from one section and gradually moved to the next, placing the items I needed into the trolley.

Another voice note from Michael came in while I was selecting a few things from the vegetable section. I played it.

"Yes. My professor and academy time are very precious now."

I smiled.

His voice continued. "Where are you? It sounds busy there."

I looked around before recording another message. "I went to the grocery store to pick up a few things for my dorm."

I was about to put my phone away when I thought about it again and recorded another voice note.

"And wish me luck, please. I hope my card doesn’t embarrass me during payment because there will be no one here to rescue me this time. Although I do have some cash with me."

I sent it and placed my phone back in my hand as I continued shopping.

The memory of what had happened at the supermarket when Michael had been with me briefly crossed my mind, and I smiled. At least this time, I had prepared for the possibility.

I moved through another aisle, checking the remaining items on my list. That was when I began to feel uncomfortable.

It started as a small, almost unnoticeable feeling.

Someone was watching me.

I slowed down. My fingers tightened around the handle of the trolley as I looked around the aisle.

There were other shoppers nearby. A woman was examining products a few feet away from me, while a man pushed his trolley past the end of the aisle without paying me any attention.

Nothing appeared unusual. Still, the strange feeling remained.

I tried to dismiss it and continued moving. Perhaps I was simply being paranoid.

A few seconds later, my phone chimed again. Michael had sent another voice note. I played it as I moved toward the next section.

"Nothing will happen to your card this time."

A faint smile touched my lips. Then he continued: "But if you think otherwise, I will come to you."

The smile faded slightly as his next question came through.

"Which grocery store are you in?"

I looked around again. The uneasy feeling had not disappeared. If anything, it had become stronger. I quickly recorded a reply.

"I’m at—"

I mentioned the name of the grocery store. Then I added, "But don’t bother. I’m leaving now."

I paused for a moment before continuing: "I feel like someone is watching me, and I just want to get out of here."

The moment I sent the voice note, I stopped. Why had I said that to him? I didn’t know. Maybe because the feeling was beginning to bother me more than I wanted to admit.

I pushed the trolley toward the checkout section.

There were several people waiting at some of the counters, but I quickly found an empty self-checkout machine.

I placed my items on the counter and began scanning them. Another voice note from Michael came in.

I glanced at the notification. I wanted to listen to it, but I was too busy checking out my groceries.

The moment the machine displayed the total, I reached into my purse and brought out some cash.

I didn’t bother trying my card. I paid quickly, packed the items into shopping bags and left the grocery store.

The moment I stepped outside, I felt slightly better. At least I was back in the open.

I pushed the trolley toward my Jeep and began loading the shopping bags into the boot. When I had placed the last one inside, I closed it and walked toward the driver’s door.

Another voice note from Michael appeared on my screen.

I got into my Jeep, shut the door and locked it before placing my phone in the holder. Then I started the engine and played the voice note.

"Emerald, wait inside the grocery store for me. I will be there."

I pressed my lips together. Michael was already coming?

I was about to record a reply and tell him not to bother when my eyes accidentally moved toward the rear-view mirror.

My entire body froze.

There was someone sitting in the back seat.

For a second, my mind refused to process what I was seeing. Then I saw his face clearly. It was an old face, one I had not seen in years.

He was looking at me through the rear-view mirror. Smiling.

My blood ran cold.

"Hello, Emmy."

The scream that rose in my throat barely escaped before he suddenly leaned forward from the back seat.

I felt something cold press against my side.

"Shh." His voice was quiet. "Don’t scream."

My whole body stiffened as I felt the gun pressed against my side. Fear hit me suddenly, making it hard to breathe. My fingers trembled around the steering wheel.

"Drive," he said.

I couldn’t move. Then I felt the pressure against my side again. "Now."

My heart pounded violently as I forced my foot down and pulled the Jeep out of the parking space.

I didn’t know where he planned to take me, but one thing was terrifyingly clear: after all these years, my biological father had finally tracked me down.