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CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

I woke the following morning feeling well rested, ready for another day at the apprenticeship from hell. The soft glow of the bedside lamp chased away the lingering shadows as I stretched my legs and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. I swung my legs over the side of the bed, then froze.

The chair.

It wasn’t lodged under the doorknob. Instead, it sat a few feet away, with its back facing me. My stomach twisted. It should have been firmly pressed against the door, as it always was.

A sickening feeling fell on me. I shot to my feet and rushed to the door, my hand trembling as I gripped the knob. It turned easily, moving seamlessly, and the door opened.

I froze, nausea bubbling in my stomach as the realization washed over me. I had slept with an unsecured door. Vulnerable. Exposed.

I shut the door, turning back to the chair. How had it moved? Had someone come into my room? Were they watching me sleep?

A wave of panic swelled in my chest. My sanctuary, the one place where I thought I could let my guard down, was no longer safe.

Wait, Akiko. Are you sure you even lodged it under the knob last night after Jiro left? Could you have forgotten?

I clawed through my memory of last night, searching for clarity. Jiro and I had talked about strategy, he pleasured me, we lay for a moment, and then he left. I remember closing the door, and… My mind went blank. Why couldn’t I remember? Surely I’d secured my door. That was my routine. Always.

My pulse pounded in my ears as I replayed the scene in my head. Jiro had been sitting at the edge of my bed. He had yawned, I had yawned, and we’d said good night. He’d left. I’d walked him to the door and…

The rattling of the doorknob had always woken me before. Why not this time?

Then, a coldness prickled the back of my neck as a horrifying thought took hold. Had I been violated?

My hands trembled as I glanced down at myself. My T-shirt was precisely where it should be, the waistband of my panties undisturbed. There was no indication that they had been removed or pushed aside after Jiro left. But the questions wouldn’t stop.

Why didn’t I wake up?

I knelt by the door, running my fingers along the floorboards. The back legs of the chair had scraped the wood, scars from the last few nights I’d wedged it under the knob.

Someone had been in my room.