Better Luck in Next Life

Chapter 7. Aisha

A gunshot diverted everyone's attention. He backed off, and I sighed in relief. Someone from behind pointed a gun at that guy's chest, pushing him forcefully.Then, he shot him dead in front of the crowd. There was no hesitation. When I looked at the others, there was no fear in their eyes. And no shock.

I hurried to the north side of the hall. Dragged into a room, a sharp smack landed on my right cheek. Before I could respond, the person standing before me delivered two more swift smacks without hesitation. The familiar face that infuriates me—my biological dad.

"You were born to ruin my dignity. Because of you, we lost such a big tender," he said with fuming eyes.

"I don't remember where I went wrong," I replied, wiping off a teardrop.

"That bastard killed our dealer because of you, and you still have the guts to stand in front of me," he said, grabbing me by my throat.

I struggled to escape from his grasp. A phone call saved me today. I hurried outside.
A hand pulled me into a corner, and his sturdy chest covered me entirely. I looked up to see Luke Addison.

"Little Missy. We meet again."

"What are you doing here?"

"You were expecting someone else, I guess."

"You're the one who called me? So you have my number."

"Who are you?"

"What do you mean?"

He pushed me hard against the wall. In a stern tone, he demanded, "Who is your father?"

I muttered, "Why do you ask?"

"A normal girl wouldn't have the guts to enter, let alone make eye contact with these people, or even me. It's only possible for those with deep connections or who are children of any of those. And you even dared to flirt with the son of the conglomerate. Who are you?"

"Let me go," I pleaded. He tightened his grip on my throat the more I begged for release.

"Now you have the faintest idea,  who I am, it's better if you cooperate and confess all truths. I don't have the genes for mercy. So, tell me your plan. What do you want?"

I murmured, "Rebirth." All I need is a rebirth because breathing is harder than dying.

He must have noticed the marks on my neck because he released me in seconds.
He reached out his hand to inspect the marks, but I shooed him off. He kept apologizing. I said, "It's not entirely your doing," and walked away.
He offered me a drive but failed to get my consent.

I halted at the overbridge. Unable to contain the pain, I cried out loud, hoping the noise would go unnoticed by passersby.

My phone rang. "Why on earth didn't you let me know you were heading to Sunny Hall? Are you out of your mind?" Martin scolded me. Should I laugh? Someone caring for me, should I appreciate it? I replied, "Your dad is back." He's someone who couldn't confront his father and couldn't bear to see me in trouble.