His innocent wife is a dangerous hacker.

Chapter 745

Bella looked at the windows, tall and clean, letting in streams of golden light that pooled on the floor like liquid honey. She looked at the plants hanging from the ceiling, their green leaves cascading down like waterfalls, some of them brushing the tops of the bookshelves.

She looked at the paintings on the walls, the few dresses on the racks, the sketches pinned to a corkboard in no particular order.

Miss J’s voice was soft and gentle. "After I came back from abroad, I renovated it again. I had left it enough back then. Now it has new floors, new windows, new everything. But I kept the bones, the old walls, the old beams. I wanted it to feel like it had a history."

Bella nodded, her eyes still roaming the room, taking in the details. "It does."

Miss J smiled.

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It was fun preparing the dress with them. Everyone worked together, laughing and talking and stepping on each other’s toes. Miss J would pin something and Freya would adjust it and Theo would hold up a piece of fabric and say something funny about Bella’s posture.

At one point, Theo tried to pin a hem and accidentally pinned his own sleeve to the table. Freya had to cut him free with scissors, and Miss J just stood there shaking her head, muttering something about how nieces and nephews were sent to test her patience.

Even though Miss J kept telling Bella to go home and practice her dance, Bella shook her head and said she wanted to help today. She was tired from practicing all day anyway. Her muscles ached and her feet hurt and she just wanted to do something different for a while to freshen her mood. So she stayed.

The hours passed quickly. The sun moved across the windows, and the light turned from bright white to soft gold to deep amber. The shadows grew longer along the wooden floor. The room grew quieter as the afternoon faded into early evening. When they finally finished, Bella stretched her arms above her head and sighed with satisfaction.

She hugged Miss J, then Freya, then Theo. Then she walked out of the studio, through the courtyard where the pink flower trees were dropping petals on the ground like snow, covering the gray stones in a blanket of soft pink that crunched softly under her flats.

She stepped onto the sidewalk. The air was warm but not hot. The streets were busy with people and cars, the sounds of the city wrapping around her like a familiar blanket. She looked around for her car. It was parked on the other side of the road, across the intersection. She would have to cross.

She walked toward the crosswalk and waited for the walking signal. There were other people waiting too. A woman with a stroller, the baby inside waving a small stuffed elephant. An old man with a cane, his back bent, his eyes on the ground. A couple holding hands, the woman laughing at something the man whispered in her ear. The light was red. The cars were moving fast, their engines humming.

Bella waited.

After a while, the signal changed. The little white figure appeared on the pole. The cars stopped. The people around her started walking.

Bella stepped off the curb.

She was halfway across when she heard it. A loud engine coming close too fast.

She looked up.

A black car with tinted windows was speeding toward the intersection. The driver must have been distracted, looking at his phone, or maybe he thought he could make it before the light changed. But he couldn’t. The cars in front of him had already stopped. He had to brake.

Hard.

The tires screeched, a high-pitched wail that cut through the air like a knife. The smell of burnt rubber filled the air, thick and acrid. The car stopped right beside Bella. Close enough that she could have touched it. Close enough that she felt the heat from the engine on her bare legs. Close enough that she saw her own reflection in the dark glass.

She froze.

Her heart slammed against her ribs. Her hands started shaking. Her breath caught in her throat. She stared at the car. The windows were so dark she couldn’t see anything inside. Not the driver’s face. Not even a silhouette. Just darkness. Just her own scared reflection staring back at her.

She couldn’t tell if he was looking at her.

The light was still green for walking. The woman with the stroller had already crossed, the baby’s elephant waving in the air. The old man with the cane was looking back at Bella with concern, his wrinkled face pinched with worry. The couple holding hands had stopped on the other side, waiting, the woman’s hand over her mouth.

The driver didn’t move. He just sat there, engine idling, exhaust puffing into the warm air.

A car behind him honked, a short, angry burst signaling the light change. This was followed by another, longer more insistent honk.

The driver seemed to wake up. He pulled back slightly, then drove forward, through the intersection, past Bella. His tires kicked up dust, and a piece of paper swirled in the air behind him before floating down to the ground.

Bella hurried across the street. She didn’t run, but she walked fast, her flats slapping against the pavement, her heart pounding in her ears. When she reached the other side, she turned to look.

The black car was already gone.

She stood there for a moment, catching her breath, her hand pressed to her chest. Her heart was still pounding. Her hands were still shaking. She thought about the license plate. She repeated the numbers in her head, making sure she remembered them. N-R-7-2-4-9.

But then she thought about it more. The car had stopped because it had to. The light was red. The other cars were stopped. The driver was probably just distracted.. That was all.

She shook her head and walked toward her waiting car. The driver opened the door for her, his face concerned. She slid inside, the leather seat cool beneath her and told him to take her home.