Chapter 243 He Didn’t Die

Chapter 243 He Didn’t Die

Matthew clenched his fists so tight his knuckles cracked.

He looked into Emily's eyes. There was no hesitation or fear, just cold determination.

He suddenly felt like a joke. He'd done everything to keep her by his side, thinking that if he waited long enough, she'd eventually accept him.

But she hadn't. Her heart was harder than stone, and it would never soften for him.

"Fine," he said with a smile that sent chills down the spine. "You're not scared of me because you think you have nothing left to lose. Eleanor is gone, so you figure I can't touch you anymore, right?"

He turned and walked to the door, then ordered his men, "Take Emily to the room on the basement level. No one lets her out without my permission."

Two bodyguards came over and grabbed her arms.

She didn't fight back or look back. As they dragged her away, she said quietly, "Matthew, you can lock up my body, but you can't control my heart."

The basement room was a storage space turned into a cell. The walls were painted white, and it had an iron bed frame and a simple toilet. A bare bulb buzzed overhead, giving off a harsh, pale light. The door was made of iron with a small window just big enough to pass food through.

When they shoved Emily inside, she stumbled and nearly fell. She caught herself, looked around, then sat down on the bed. There was only a thin mattress and a blanket. She wrapped the blanket around herself, leaned against the wall, and closed her eyes.

For the first time, she felt completely calm inside.

Eleanor was safe.

As long as Eleanor was okay, it didn't matter where they kept her or for how long.

Matthew ordered them not to bring her food. She just lay there and didn't say a word.

Matthew stood in front of the security monitor, staring at the closed iron door with a dark look in his eyes.

His assistant spoke carefully. "Mr. Moore, Miss Johnson hasn't eaten in two days. If this keeps up..."

"Leave her," Matthew said, clearly angry.

He was mad that Emily didn't care about her own body.

But on the fourth day, he gave in.

He had the door opened and walked in himself, carrying a tray of food.

Emily was slumped in the corner. Her lips were cracked and dry, her face pale as paper, and her cheekbones stood out sharply. After three days without food, she was weak, but her eyes were still stubborn.

Matthew squatted in front of her and set the tray down. "Eat."

Emily glanced at him but didn't move.

"If you don't eat, I'll bring Eleanor back," he said in a low voice. "You know I can find her. And when I do, you won't even get to share a room with her again."

Emily stared at him for a long time, then slowly reached out and picked up the bowl of soup. She drank it one small sip at a time.

Matthew watched her finish it, and that same tangled feeling rose up in his chest again. He was glad she'd eaten, but angry that she'd only done it for Eleanor.

He stood up to leave, but stopped at the door.

"The doctor will come give you a nutrient shot later. You're too weak. Food alone isn't enough."

Emily didn't answer.

The doctor came and gave her the injection. As the liquid went into her vein, Emily felt a strange dizziness. It didn't feel like a normal nutrient shot, but she couldn't say exactly what was wrong.

From that day on, Matthew had them give her a shot every day.

Her body started to change. She became sleepy all the time, sleeping for over ten hours and still feeling tired. Her focus got worse, like her mind was wrapped in fog. Thinking clearly became harder and harder.

Emily started losing track of what day it was. The lightbulb on the ceiling stayed on twenty-four hours a day, with no difference between night and day. Her head felt like someone had poured glue into it—thick and cloudy.

Matthew walked in carrying a tray with a bowl of soup and some vegetables. He squatted in front of her, set the tray down, and touched her forehead.

"How are you feeling today?"

Emily didn't answer. She didn't know what to say. Or maybe she was just too tired to speak.

"The doctor says your body's recovering well," Matthew said. He picked up the soup bowl, scooped up a spoonful, blew on it, and held it to her lips. "Just hold on a little longer."

Emily looked at the spoon. "What kind of shots are you giving me?"

Matthew's hand paused for a second, and something flickered in his eyes, but he quickly smiled again. "Nutrient shots. Vitamins. You wrecked your body by not eating. How else are you supposed to get better?"

He pushed the spoon closer. "Be good. Eat first."

Emily lowered her eyes and slowly opened her mouth to drink the soup.

She didn't ask again. She knew she wouldn't get an answer.

After she finished eating, Matthew didn't leave right away. He leaned against the wall and watched her with a strange, satisfied look, like a collector admiring his most prized piece.

"Emmie, you know, this version of you is the best. So obedient."

Emily leaned against the wall with her eyes closed and ignored him.

"You used to be like a knife. Anyone who got close got cut. Now look at you—so quiet, no trouble at all." He walked over and gently ran his fingers through her hair. "Don't worry, I won't keep you locked up forever. Once you stop trying to run, I'll take you out of here and we'll start over."

After he left, the door locked again.

Emily opened her eyes and stared at the lightbulb above her. The glow burned a bright spot in her vision.

He was trying to break her.

Using drugs to weaken her will, making her dependent on him while she was confused and weak.

It was the oldest trick in the book. Like training a hawk.

Once her willpower collapsed, she'd really become a bird in a cage.

She couldn't let that happen.

Eleanor was still waiting for her. Alex hadn't been found yet. Johnson Corporation still needed her.

She had too many reasons to stay strong.

Emily bit down on the back of her hand, using the pain to stay awake. Her teeth broke the skin, and the taste of blood spread in her mouth. The pain cut through the fog in her brain and cleared her head for a moment.

Whenever she started to drift, she bit herself. Her hand was covered in bite marks.

Emily buried her face in her knees and smiled without a sound.

As long as she didn't want to give in, no one could control her.

Meanwhile.

Alex, who was supposed to be "dead," had finally made it back after rushing the whole way.

On the drive back from the border, he got into a car accident. When the car went over a cliff, he was thrown out and landed in a safety net meant to catch falling rocks. The steel cables broke two of his ribs, and his right leg got cut deep by a piece of the crushed door. He lost so much blood that he was unconscious for two full days.

Local people found him and carried him back to their town.

The nurse there cleaned and stitched his wounds, then wrapped his chest tight to keep his ribs from shifting.

Alex lay on the hard wooden bed, hurting all over like his body had been taken apart and put back together. But his mind was clear.

He wasn't dead.

If those people found out he was alive, they'd make another move. So he had to pretend he really was gone.

He called his most trusted man. When the guy heard his voice, he nearly dropped the phone.