The air solidified.
The ambiguous atmosphere, filled with the mellow scent of red wine and testing intentions, was now completely ripped apart by a brutal, unreasonable force.
William's brain crashed for 0.3 seconds, then began a frantic, doomsday-level calculation.
On the left.
A S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent, codenamed Mockingbird.
She was attempting to infiltrate him with a classic, cliché "red wine honey trap."
On the right.
Hell's Kitchen's most volatile private detective.
A walking queen of destruction.
She had just announced her arrival with a literal "breaking and entering."
And one caught in the middle.
An insurance salesman who had just gained the divine skill of "Basic Pain Relief" but absolutely did not want to test its effects right now.
The scene was as absurd as the opening act of a third-rate comedy.
This wasn't a love triangle; this was a battle of deities, and he was merely the mortal who would be casually crushed.
It was Jessica who broke the silence.
She didn't even glance at the now-ruined door, taking long strides and walking straight in.
Her leather boots clacked dully on the expensive floor, each step like a stomp on William's heart.
She walked to the bar, casually picked up the bottle of red wine William had praised to the heavens, held it up to the light to check the label, then let out a contemptuous snort.
"Good taste."
She said, her gaze fixed on William like a searchlight.
"Looks like I interrupted your 'neighborly assistance' activity?"
William felt his scalp tingle.
He decisively put down his wine glass, raised both hands in a gesture of surrender, and forced a smile uglier than a cry onto his face.
"Jessica, calm down. This is a misunderstanding, a neighborly exchange full of coincidences and good intentions..."
"Is that so?"
Jessica finally turned her gaze to Barbara, her eyes filled with undisguised scrutiny and provocation.
"Hello, 'neighbor.' Is your doorbell broken?"
Just as William's survival instinct was about to soar through the roof, Barbara beside him made a move.
The professional stance, instantly tensed and ready to counterattack, receded like a tide.
In its place was a perfectly timed expression of alarm.
Her eyes widened slightly, and her body instinctively recoiled towards William.
As if he were some solid support, not a weakling.
"William..."
Her voice held a barely perceptible tremble, like a frightened fawn.
Her gaze went over William, looking at the intimidating figure.
"Who... who is she?"
That "William" was delivered with a myriad of inflections, full of dependence and helplessness.
William's scalp instantly prickled.
A master!
This was a true master!
He was 200% sure that with S.H.I.E.L.D.'s intelligence network, Barbara absolutely knew who Jessica Jones was.
A super-powered individual active in Hell's Kitchen couldn't possibly be off S.H.I.E.L.D.'s surveillance list.
But she didn't expose her, didn't question her, and didn't even show any of the vigilance an Agent should have.
She chose to play the role of the most innocent, most vulnerable victim.
This move directly twisted the focus of the conflict from a spy thriller of "S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent VS Super-powered Detective" into an eight o'clock family drama of "Ex-girlfriend (?) Kicking Down Current Girlfriend's (?) Door."
And he, William, was the damn male lead.
"I said, I knocked."
She repeated, her tone devoid of apology, only impatience.
"But, but you can't just..."
Barbara's voice grew softer, and she subtly clutched William's arm with one hand.
The grip wasn't strong, but it conveyed a signal of "I'm so scared, please protect me."
William felt like a hot iron had been placed on his arm.
"You were drinking with her?"
"Just a neighbor... a new neighbor, helping to open the red wine."
William felt his explanation was as flimsy as a used napkin.
"Oh, opening red wine."
Jessica nodded, then her gaze fell on Barbara's hand clutching William's arm.
"Did it open all the way to the bed?"
The words were crude and direct, like a slap in the face.
Barbara's face instantly went pale, and her eyes visibly reddened.
Her lips trembled, looking like she had suffered a huge grievance but dared not retort.
"You... how can you say that to a girl... who exactly are you?"
She released William, covered her mouth with both hands, and her shoulders trembled slightly, perfectly portraying a weak woman unjustly humiliated.
William was now 200% certain that Barbara was absolutely doing this on purpose!
With acting like yours, the Oscars owe you a statuette!
She was fanning the flames!
She was using Jessica's temper to probe his relationship with Jessica and observe his reactions under extreme pressure!
This woman's heart was dirtier than her fighting skills!
"I'm his creditor."
Jessica gestured towards William with her chin, her tone flat.
William almost choked.
Creditor?
Big sister, what do I owe you?
Do I owe you a goodnight?
However, this explanation, upon reaching Barbara's ears, instantly constructed a completely new, even more dangerous narrative model.
An insurance salesman who owed loan sharks (or a similar organization) was being pursued by a violent debt collector, and this debt collector possessed inhuman strength.
This perfectly explained why William needed to deal with "special individuals" and why he was so sensitive to "risk."
Barbara's eyes deepened.
She glanced at the door, then at Jessica.
Finally, she looked at William.
As if to say: Your troubles are bigger than I imagined.
"Listen,"
William had to immediately cut off the dangerous speculation and staring contest between these two women.
"Don't get excited. Jessica, you come out first, we'll talk. Ms. Miller, I'm very sorry about the door... I promise, I'll replace it with a new one within twenty-four hours, a titanium alloy one, with Sentinel mode, and I'll cover all the costs!"
As he spoke, he cautiously moved towards Jessica, trying to escort this formidable figure out of the apartment that could turn into a battlefield at any moment.
"Why should I go out?"
Jessica tilted her head; she seemed to find this scene amusing.
"I haven't had my drink yet."
He walked between the two, forcibly blocking their line of sight, then lowered his voice and said to Jessica: "Do me a favor, give me some face, we can talk about whatever it is back home. This round of drinks is on me, drink as much as you want."
She said nothing more, just nodded.
Then she reached out a hand and grabbed William's collar like she was picking up a small chicken.
William felt an irresistible, immense force, and he was effortlessly pulled up from where he stood.
She didn't even glance at Barbara again, simply walked towards the door, carrying William, as if the previous face-off was just a boring appetizer.
"William!"
Barbara's tearful gasp came from behind.
William stumbled two steps as he was dragged, then looked back.
He saw Barbara Miller standing still, her face full of worry and fear.
Her eyes were filled with concern, asking, "Are you okay?" and "Will she hurt you?"
But at the exact moment William's gaze met hers.
He clearly saw, beneath that shimmering layer of tears, a pair of cold, sharp eyes, scrutinizing everything like a hawk.
There was no weakness in that gaze, only calm analysis and assessment.
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