?<strong>Chapter 453:</strong>


    Her hand went limp, and her phone slipped from her fingers, falling onto the marble floor. The screen shattered in a web of cracks.


    Why? Why was Carrie so lucky?


    Kristopher sat on the couch for a good half-hour, his face reflecting his hesitation. Eventually, he got up and headed toward the bedroom. When he reached for the door handle, he felt it wouldn’t budge. It took him a second to realize that Carrie had locked it from the inside. But since all the locks in the house were synced to his fingerprint, her small act of defiance wasn’t enough to stop him.


    Just as he was about to press his finger to the lock sensor, his phone started ringing. He pulled out his phone and saw Lise’s name shing on the screen. He lowered his hand and walked down the staircase before answering the call.


    The moment he picked up, Elva’s voice burst through the line, frantic and shaky. “Mr. Norris! It’s Lise—she had a heart attack. They’ve taken her to the hospital.”


    At Bayview Vi…


    A faint noise made Carrie look up from her phone. She walked to the window, catching a glimpse of Kristopher’s car pulling out of the driveway. She stood there and watched the sleek ck vehicle vanish into the night, merging with the shadows. A chill crept through her chest, leaving her feeling uneasy. No matter how much she tried to push the thought away, reality wouldn’t let her. Leaving at this hour could only mean one thing: Kristopher was on his way to see Lise.


    Just as the weight of her thoughts threatened to pull her under, Camille appeared at her door five minutester, carrying two bags of barbecue and a case of beer. The moment Carrie unlocked the door, Camille pushed the barbecue into her hands and marched inside with the beer.


    “I saw the news on Twitter and thought, why not celebrate with your favorite barbecue? Drama like this? Top-tier entertainment. Even the craziest soap operas couldn’tpete.”


    Carrie looked at the crinkled paper bag and smiled faintly. This barbecue wasn’t just food—it was nostalgia. It came from a tiny street vendor, famous for its unbeatable vors. No delivery apps, no shy promotions—just a crowd of loyal regrs who kept its reputation alive. She realized how long it had been since she’d tasted it. Only Camille would think of something so thoughtful—and so perfectly timed.


    With a small shrug, Carrie felt a bit of the heaviness in her heart lift. She shut the door and trailed after Camille. Camille, true to form, kicked her shoes off without a care, leaving them wherever theynded, and flopped down cross-legged on the plush carpet. The beer box left dusty marks on the spotless white rug.


    The rug was one of Kristopher’s extravagant purchases—a handcrafted luxury item that most would disy as art. Naturally, Kristopher had decided it should serve as an everyday carpet. Carrie’s mind did the math in seconds: cleaning that rug alone would set them back over a thousand dors. Then again, whether the damage was a faint smudge or a full-blown disaster, it hardly seemed to matter anymore. Deciding it wasn’t worth stressing over, she grabbed the barbecue and joined Camille on the floor.


    Camille ripped open the bag, grabbed a skewer of chicken wings, and wiped her greasy fingers carelessly on the priceless rug. Carrie threw up her hands in silent surrender. After devouring a wing, Camille nced around as though noticing the emptiness for the first time.


    “Speaking of which, where’s Kristopher? Pulling an all-nighter?”


    Carrie took a bite of her sausage, her expression unreadable. “He left shortly after I posted on Twitter. Probably headed to see Lise.”


    .


    .


    .