Chapter 163
Elizabeth did not say anything else. She leaned back in the seat, closed her eyes, and pretended to fall asleep.
The car drove for a long time.
Elizabeth wasn't actually asleep. Behind her closed eyelids, her mind raced.
She couldn't see through Sawyer at all. One second, he could kill someone, and the very next, he was unbearably gentle with her; he could threaten her with a smile, then turn around and tuck a blanket around her shoulders.
When he did those things, there wasn't even a trace of performance about him. It all seemed to come straight from the heart. That's what made it truly terrifying.
A complete lunatic.
But she had no choice except to play along with him, at least for now. Because Jack was in his hands.
The car finally rolled to a stop at a private airport.
On the tarmac, a silver Gulfstream jet waited, the cabin door already open. A red carpet had been laid over the stairs, and two neat rows of bodyguards in black stood on either side, posture rigid, training obvious in every movement.
Sawyer got out first, then turned and held a hand out to her.
Elizabeth looked at that hand, hesitated for a second, then placed her own in his. His palm was dry and warm, his grip steady—neither flirtatious nor rough.
"Watch your step," he murmured.
Elizabeth didn't answer, just followed him up the stairs.
The cabin was even more luxurious than she had imagined. Off-white leather sofas, dark walnut paneling, thick handwoven carpet underfoot. On the table sat a bottle of champagne and two plates of delicate little pastries, and beside them, a bouquet of fresh white roses, dew still clinging to the petals.
Sawyer guided her to a seat and personally fastened her seat belt. "The flight might get a little bumpy. If you feel bad, tell me."
Elizabeth looked at him, and couldn't stop herself from asking, "Are you always like this?"
Sawyer paused. "Like what?"
"So nice to people."
Sawyer laughed. There was something in that smile she couldn't quite name. "Only to you."
As the plane took off, Elizabeth watched the city outside the window shrink smaller and smaller, and finally she couldn't hold back her tears.
She thought of her previous life. Of that dark basement, of the endless pain and fear, of lying alone on the freezing floor, slowly dying. In that life, no one came to save her. No brother, no lover, no child.
Only her.
Sawyer passed her a tissue, his movements very gentle.
Elizabeth took it, wiped her tears, and said nothing.
Sawyer sat across from her, watching her. All of a sudden, he asked, "Why are you crying?"
Elizabeth was silent for a long time. Then she said softly, "Because I've never had an older brother."
Sawyer's eyes changed, just a fraction.
Elizabeth went on, "My whole life, it had always just been me. When people bullied me, no one stood up for me; when people hurt me, no one took revenge for me. I've never known what it feels like to have a big brother."
She lifted her head to look at Sawyer. Her eyes were still wet, but the corners of her mouth curved up. "Thank you, Sawyer. This is the first time I've ever felt what it's like to have a brother's warmth."
Sawyer stared at her for a long moment, almost dazed. Then he reached out and gently ruffled her hair, like she was a child he had finally gotten back. "Idiot."
His voice was a little hoarse, and there was something flickering in his eyes, but he forced it back down almost immediately.
Elizabeth dropped her gaze, pretending she hadn't noticed.
She knew perfectly well she was saying all this for Sawyer's benefit.
She needed him to believe she was softening, accepting him, seeing him as her brother.
Only then could she win more freedom; only then could she find a chance to get Jack out.
And yet, while she was saying those words, there was a brief, dizzy moment in her chest where she thought, If only this were real.
If Sawyer really were an older brother who doted on his little sister, if she really had a family like that, if all the suffering of her previous life had never existed—how wonderful that would be.
But she knew it wasn't real.
Sawyer was a madman. His tenderness was a blade; his kindness was poison.
Only by humoring him could she stay alive. Only then could she save Jack.
The plane cut through the night sky, nothing but impenetrable darkness outside the window.
Sawyer's voice broke the silence. "Elizabeth, do you know why I killed those seven brothers and sisters?"
Elizabeth looked up at him.
Sawyer lounged back on the sofa, his gaze drifting to the window, as if he were digging through memories from a long time ago. "They wanted to kill me. They always did, from the start. My father had a lot of women, and a lot of children. All those kids wanted to inherit the Scott family. And I was the legitimate son, the rock blocking their way."
His tone was calm, as if he were telling someone else's story. "When I was five, my oldest brother put poison in my milk. I drank it and lived because he didn't use enough. When I was seven, my second brother and third sister teamed up and messed with the brakes on my car. It went off a cliff. I crawled out, with two broken ribs. When I was nine, my fourth brother bribed my personal bodyguard. The guy snuck into my room in the middle of the night and held a knife to my throat. I killed him and stabbed my fourth brother three times. He lived, but he's been paralyzed ever since."
He paused, his voice dropping. "I didn't kill them for the inheritance. I killed them because if I didn't, they would have killed me."
Elizabeth was quiet for a long time. "Then why tell me all this?"
Sawyer turned his head and looked at her, his eyes unbearably gentle.
"Because you're not like them. You're my sister. My real sister. You won't hurt me, and I won't hurt you."
Elizabeth didn't respond.
She was wondering what this man had lived through to become what he was now.
She was wondering what it would be like if she really did have an older brother, if he really could protect her.
But then she thought of her previous life again. Back then, no brother came to save her.
She died alone in that basement, inch by inch. So none of this was real. This brother was fake too.
By the time the plane landed, the sky had already begun to lighten.
It was early morning in Italy. A soft mist hung over the distant hills, and the air was laced with the scent of vineyards.
Sawyer led her down the steps of the plane, where a black sedan was already waiting at the bottom of the stairs.
It was the same kind of heavy armored car as before, the windows tinted so dark you couldn't see inside.
"Get in," Sawyer said, holding the door open for her.
Elizabeth hesitated. "Where is Jack?"
Sawyer smiled. "Relax. You'll see him soon."
The car drove through a stretch of vineyards, then past an ancient little town, and finally stopped in front of a castle. A real castle, perched on a hilltop, gray stone walls draped in ivy, turrets and spires stabbing up into the sky. The iron gates swung open slowly as the car pulled in, rolling across a manicured lawn before stopping at the main entrance.
Sawyer got out first, then opened Elizabeth's door. "Welcome home."
Elizabeth stood in front of the castle, tilted her head back to take in the old building, and felt absolutely nothing.
This was not her home. Her home was far, far away.
Sawyer took her inside. Everyone they passed lowered their heads respectfully and greeted him as "Mr. Scott." Their gazes lingered on Elizabeth with a flicker of curiosity, but no one dared to ask questions.
"I had a room prepared for you. Go rest for a bit," Sawyer said as they walked. "I'll take you to see Jack later."
Elizabeth's heart stuttered. "He's here?"