Ch. He Laughed While I Was Hit 9 He Laughed While I Was Hit 9

* Chapter 9 

< Chapter 8 

The sun had shifted west. 

The windows of the building across the street flashed with 

reflected light. 

*Marco.* 

*Three years ago, you said my formulas were our future.* 

*Now I’ve taken them back.* 

*What do you have left to bargain with?* 

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< Chapter 8 

The doorbell rang. 

I checked the peephole. 

It wasn’t Marco. 

It was Francesca. 

Standing there alone. 

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< He Laughed While I Was Hit 

Chapter 9 

Francesca stood outside my door. 

She wore a cream-colored dress, her hair pulled back in a neat, 

severe bun. 

Around her neck was the eighty-thousand-dollar necklace. 

I watched her through the peephole for ten seconds. 

Then I opened the door. 

When she saw my face, her gaze flickered to the bruise on my 

cheek. 

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< Chapter 9 

Her expression didn’t change. 

“Astrid, I’m here to talk.” 

She said it evenly, like a superior summoning a subordinate. 

I stepped aside and let her in. 

She walked into the living room, her eyes doing a quick, 

dismissive sweep of the space. 

Old apartment. Old furniture. Yellowing walls. 

The corner of her mouth twitched. 

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< Chapter 9 

She didn’t sit. 

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She stood in the middle of the room, Birkin bag in hand, looking 

down at me. 

Francesca was half a head taller than me. In heels, she was nearly 

six feet. 

“Take back the revocation notice.” 

It wasn’t a request. 

It was an order. 

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< Chapter 9 

“Why?” 

“Astrid, don’t make this uglier than it needs to be.” 

She set her bag on the coffee table and folded her arms. 

“What happened yesterday was your fault.” 

“What right did you have to go through my drawer?” 

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