Back in her apartment, safely separated by a wall from the hallway, Nora Hayes collapsed onto her living room sofa. Her face was pale, her heart still hammering against her ribs. Before she could even catch her breath, the electronic lock on her front door chimed. The door swung open. Her heart leaped into her throat. Without thinking, she snatched a heavy glass vase from the coffee table, jumped to her feet, and demanded sharply, "Who's there?!"
Nathan Peyton, who had just stepped one foot inside, heard her panicked tone and immediately called out, "It's me!"
At the sound of his familiar voice, the tension drained from Nora's body. A second later, Nathan walked fully into the entryway. Seeing her standing safely in the living room, he let out a visible breath of relief. The deep crease between his brows smoothed out. He swapped his boots for slippers at the door and quickly closed the distance between them. "What happened? I heard you scream."
Nora's cheeks flushed a deep crimson. "There's a cockroach."
Nathan stared at her in stunned silence.
"Where?" he finally asked.
He never would have imagined that Nora—the icy, unflappable forensic doctor who didn't even flinch at gruesome corpses—would be terrified of a bug. The corners of Nathan's mouth twitched. He looked like he was fighting the urge to laugh.
Nora shot him a withering glare. "Go ahead and laugh if you want to."
Being afraid of cockroaches wasn't a crime. Besides, she wasn't exactly terrified of them; she just found the vile creatures absolutely repulsive.
Nathan actually chuckled aloud, which only infuriated her more. Noticing her expression darkening by the second, he wisely decided to pivot. He cleared his throat and adopted a professional tone. "Seeing one cockroach usually means there's a whole nest hidden somewhere. I highly recommend hiring a cleaning service for a deep scrub. If you really want peace of mind, call a professional pest control team to fumigate the entire place."


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