Chapter 129 The Vivid Ghost Of A Dream

Chapter 129 The Vivid Ghost Of A Dream
CHAPTER 129

The Vivid Ghost Of A Dream

The air in Daniel and Camille’s bedroom was heavy with the scent of lavender oil and the clinical, rhythmic hiss-click of the medical equipments.

Anna stood in Daniel and Camille’s bedroom with her arms folded so tightly across her chest it felt like she was holding herself together with sheer willpower.

Camille chatted softly while giving Daniel a sponge bath, updating her on the yoga class, how the breathing exercises already made her feel lighter, like she wasn’t carrying the weight of the entire Fairchild mansion on her shoulders anymore.

Anna nodded at all the right beats, but her mind was a thousand miles away—still trapped in last night’s nightmare that refused to loosen its grip.

She still couldn’t decide if it had been a dream at all. The weight of Daniel's body pinning her down, the invasive press of his fingers, the chilling sound of his voice—it had felt so real she could still taste the terror like copper on her tongue.

After bolting awake she had checked every corner of her bedroom like a paranoid final girl in a slasher flick, chair still wedged under the handle, lock still bolted, nothing out of place. Only then had her shoulders dropped a fraction.

But the vividness wouldn’t fade. For one heart-stopping moment she had believed she was truly alone in the mansion with a madman who knew exactly what she had tried to do.

The mere thought sent fresh visceral horror crawling down her spine like ice water.

“Anna?”

Camille’s gentle touch on her arm made her flinch so hard a gasp escaped her lips.

“I—I'm sorry,” Anna said quickly, forcing a smile that felt plastic. “I just… I spaced out for a second. What were you saying?”

Camille gave her a look of concern. “Are you all right? You look like you've seen a ghost. Does your head still hurt?”

Anna rubbed her temple. “I'm fine. Just didn’t get much sleep last night. Must be why I have this headache the size of Texas.”

Worry flooded Camille’s features instantly.

She set the sponge down and gently held Anna’s arms, studying her like a sick child, her eyes filled with a kind of soft maternal concern that made Anna want to spill every secret she held.

“Emilia mentioned she heard you screaming this morning in your sleep. Was it a nightmare?”

Anna nodded.

Camille’s voice softened further to a whisper. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

Anna's gaze darted to Daniel on the bed.

Flashes assaulted her—his weight, his fingers invading her, his maniacal laughter. She snapped back to the present.

“Please,” she said gently but pleadingly, “I don't want to talk about it. It might make the headache worse. Besides, I still have my antenatal check-up soon.”

Camille nodded, though the worry lines didn’t smooth out. “Did you take anything for it?”

“Yes,” Anna lied smoothly.

Camille resumed bathing Daniel. “Richard called me this morning.”

Anna straightened, a spark of anger slicing through the lingering fear. “What did he want?”

“Nothing much. Just asked how Daniel was doing, if there had been any improvement.”

“Did he say anything else?” Anna pressed. “Anything awful?”

Camille gave a small, sad smile.

“No. But I could tell from his voice he still hasn’t forgiven me for shooting him and shattering his kneecap. I could feel the resentment from the phone.
He only tolerates my existence because I’m the one taking care of his son. Said it’s my duty as his wife to stay by his side.”

"In his case, you don't owe him a single second of your time. Not after the horrors he put you through—unspeakable things that Richard knew about and chose to ignore like it was just another Tuesday.

If anything, Daniel should be thanking God every day that it's you cleaning him and not some disgruntled nurse who doesn't care if he's comfortable or not."

Camille paused, her eyes drifting to Daniel’s pale face.

"Maybe," she murmured. "But sometimes, Anna, being here... it feels like I’m the one in control now. He’s the one who is helpless. It’s a strange kind of therapy, I suppose. Besides, I’m doing this for the baby I’m carrying, to show myself that I’m stronger than the fear he built in me."

Anna softened. “You know, Daniel should thank whatever god is listening that he has you. It should be a nurse doing this.”

She glanced around the room, her gaze landing on the empty chair by the window.

“Speaking of nurses, I haven’t seen Jane today. Did she come in?”

Camille nodded. “She did, but I gave her the day off. Family emergency. She’ll be back tomorrow. I told her I could handle things for one day.”

Anna checked her watch. “It’s almost time for my appointment. I should probably get going before the traffic decides to ruin my day.”

“Go ahead,” Camille said warmly. “We’ll talk more when you return.”

Anna smiled softly and turned to leave, pausing at the door. “I’m glad you started the yoga class.”

Camille returned the smile. “Thank you. I just followed the advice of a very wise young woman.”

Anna’s smile deepened. “I’m glad you listened.” She gave a small wave. “See you later.”

Downstairs, the house was alive with the small, domestic sounds of the Fairchilds.

Anna followed Oliver’s voice into the kitchen.

Oliver sat on a barstool, carefully feeding baby Amari a single grape.

The tiny girl sucked on it contentedly, tiny fingers wrapped around Oliver’s finger like it was the most important thing in the universe.

Beside them, Lillian ate a bowl of fruit salad, watching with amusement.

Anna’s heart melted on the spot—like someone had taken a blowtorch to an iceberg.
Oliver looked up with pure fascination.

“I can actually feel her toothless gums biting down on my finger. It’s like she thinks I’m a human teething ring.”
Oliver said, his voice filled with a brand of fascination usually reserved for discovering a new planet.

“She’s got a grip like a vice.”

Lillian laughed. “She probably thinks your fingers are my nipples. She does that to me whenever I breastfeed her—full-on vampire mode.”

Oliver raised an eyebrow. “Does she bite you all the time?”

“Not always,” Lillian said. “Only when she’s really hungry and can’t control herself. It’s like she turns into a tiny piranha with a grudge.”

“That’s got to hurt,” Oliver muttered.

Lillian grinned. “I always give her little spanks and she stops her attacks. Works like a charm.”

Anna laughed, drawing their attention.

Oliver grinned playfully. “Have you been eavesdropping on our conversation, Agent Anna?”

Anna shrugged, eyes twinkling. “Guilty as charged. I walked in and it was like stumbling into the world’s cutest reality show.”

She stepped closer. “You seem to be having fun with Amari.”

Oliver beamed like he’d won the lottery.

“Delightfully so,” he replied as Anna reached out to gently stroke Amari’s soft, chubby cheek.

Lillian leaned in, whispering playfully to Anna.

"Don't even bother reaching for her. The self-appointed babysitter over here won't let anyone else touch her for the rest of the day. He’s obsessed."

“Lillian is right.” Oliver said, shifting Amari slightly as if protecting a treasure.

“I’m not giving her up to anyone for the rest of the day. Not to you, not to the designers, not even to the Queen if she stopped by for tea.”

“I’m deep into my cousin duties era now. Amari is officially my new favorite person—sorry, everyone else, you're just background characters.”

Lillian and Anna burst out laughing.

Elias appeared in the doorway. “The car’s ready, ma’am.”

Anna bid Lillian and Oliver goodbye and left for her appointment.



Later that afternoon Anna returned from the antenatal visit feeling lighter than she had in days.

Her phone rang as she stepped into the bedroom.

The moment she saw William’s name, a wide, beautiful smile spread across her face like sunshine breaking through storm clouds.

She answered immediately. “Hey, you.”

“Hey, sweetheart,” William’s voice wrapped around her like a warm blanket. “How are my two favorite people doing today? Did the appointment go okay?”

“We’re perfect. The doctor said everything looks perfect. Heartbeat strong, growth right on track. I even got to hear it again today—sounded like a tiny drum solo in there.”
Anna said, her voice softening as she headed toward their bedroom.

“That’s my girl,” he said softly, pride thick in his voice. “I miss you both already. The bed here feels too big without you stealing all the covers and hogging the middle.”

Anna laughed lightly. “I miss you too. The house feels empty. How’s everything on your end? Are you surviving the meetings?”

“Barely. Meetings are dragging like a bad soap opera, but Ryan’s keeping things from imploding. I keep thinking about waking up with you this morning… and how I want to do that every day when I get back.”

Heat crept into Anna’s cheeks. “Careful, Mr. Fairchild. Keep talking like that and I might not let you leave again. I’ll chain you to the bed with those silk ties you like so much.”

William’s low chuckle sent pleasant shivers down her spine. “That’s the plan. One week. Then I’m locking us in that bedroom for at least forty-eight hours—minimum.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

In the background Ryan’s voice called out. “Mr. Fairchild, the clients are waiting.”

William sighed. “I have to go, sweetheart. I’ll call you tonight when I’m free. I love you—both of you. More than anything.”

“I love you too,” Anna said softly, her heart full. “Come home safe.”

She hung up and set the phone on the dresser, exhaling deeply.

She felt a sudden wave of exhaustion hit her. She needed a shower and a nap before the designer arrived to take measurements for the Victorian ball.

She shed her clothes, leaving them in a pile, and stepped into the bathroom.

The hot water was a heaven-sent relief, washing away the lingering grime of the hospital smell and the remnants of her morning anxiety.

As the steam filled the room, Anna heard the distinct click of the bedroom door opening.

Without thinking much of it, Anna called out over the sound of the spray

"Emilia? Olivia? Give me five minutes! I’m just finishing up! I’ll be out in a second!"

There was no verbal response, but she heard the faint rustle of someone moving in the bedroom.

She turned off the water, wrapped herself in a thick, plush bathrobe, and began to towel-dry her hair.

"Is the designer here already?" Anna asked, re-entering the bedroom. "I was really hoping for a quick nap before we started the—"

The words died in her throat.

The bedroom was empty. Silence greeted her, save for the hum of the air conditioning.

But there, sitting perfectly in the center of the pristinely made bed, was a beautiful blue box, neatly tied with a wide, blood-red silk ribbon.

Anna’s heart began to thud against her ribs, a slow, heavy rhythm of dread. She walked toward the bed, her hand trembling as she reached for the box.

She sat on the edge of the mattress, the silence of the room suddenly feeling predatory.

With shaky fingers, she loosened the red ribbon. It fell to the duvet like a discarded snake.

She gripped the lid, her breath coming in shallow gasps, and lifted it.

The next second, the air was shattered by a scream of pure, unadulterated horror.

Anna threw the box away from her, her body recoiling as if she’d been burned.

The box tumbled to the floor, and its contents spilled across the rug—a grotesque, horrific sight that made the world spin on its axis.

Anna collapsed back, her hand clamped over her mouth to stifle a sob, her eyes glassing over with tears as she stared at the floor in visceral shock.

"Oh my God," she gasped out, her voice a broken whisper. "Oh my God..."