Chapter 321 Insomnia Is Contagious
Dylan glanced at Benjamin in the passenger seat through the rearview mirror as he drove.
Watching the stream of headlights ahead, he said with a wry smile.
"Maybe one day, you'll really find the person you're looking for."
Benjamin didn't understand what he meant, thinking it was just Dylan's way of encouraging him.
So he smiled and said, "I think so too."
Isla had a rare period of peace down in the basement where she was locked up.
She hadn't even seen William's face these past few days.
The only person she had contact with was the housekeeper who cleaned and added dog food to her bowl.
No one tortured her, no one bothered her. Life was so peaceful, it felt like a dream.
In the past, this was a life she couldn't have imagined.
Every day when she opened her eyes, she would think about what cruel methods William would come up with to torture her today.
So she leaned against the cage, waiting in vain for that demon to arrive.
She waited for three days, but that person never showed up.
Isla even wondered if William was dead.
Otherwise, given his personality, how could he let her off?
But you couldn't really say he was letting her off, since she was still locked in a cage.
Why hadn't William appeared?
She thought about it for a long time but couldn't find an answer, so she tried talking to the housekeeper who came to clean.
"Where the hell did William go?"
"He locked me up here. What does he want?"
"Is he cooking up some bigger plot?"
The housekeeper acted like a deaf-mute. No matter how much Isla shouted or cursed, he calmly went about his work, not caring about Isla's reactions at all.
All of Isla's attempts were like punching soft cotton—she got no response at all.
Finally, she lost all her strength and stopped obsessing over an answer.
She could only continue surviving.
Insomnia is a contagious disease.
Because William never appeared and she couldn't guess his plan, the anxiety in Isla's heart kept her from sleeping.
Benjamin couldn't sleep either.
The nurse had left; it was dark now, and he was alone in the hospital room.
He thought that with his current physical condition, he could leave the hospital anytime.
He didn't want to stay in the hospital anymore. He just wanted to leave this place quickly and set out to find Isla.
Benjamin clutched the photo album, standing by the window as moonlight poured in from outside.
"I will find you."
"I will definitely find you."
"For Isabella, for our daughter, I will find you no matter what."
He held the album to his chest and slowly closed his eyes.
In his mind, Isabella's laughter appeared.
It was Isabella in a white dress, before she grew up.
Holding a paper pinwheel, she hopped toward him like a little white rabbit.
"...Haha..."
"Daddy, look... the pinwheel is spinning so fast..."
"Daddy, wait for me..."
Benjamin's nose stung, and his five fingers tightened around the album.
His Isabella was the most adorable girl in the world.
She and Beatrice were like two little angels.
Every day they were around, life was filled with sunshine, no matter what.
A tear slid down from the corner of his eye.
He remembered the funeral, that girl who had grown up, stubborn and determined.
That was his bravest daughter.
"William, marry me..."
The sunlight that day, the wind that day, and the people that day—everything played back in his mind like photographs, incredibly clear.
Benjamin's eyes hadn't opened yet, but his memories were becoming clearer and clearer.
He saw Isabella's stubborn silhouette, like withered grass swaying in a fierce wind.
Maybe even then, Isabella's heart had already cracked.
Benjamin recalled every phone call he'd had with Isabella, imagining her crying voice, and his own heart tightened.
None of this should have happened. Why did it turn out this way?
Why, in the end, was he the only one left?
He didn't understand why Juniper had to be so cruel.
Just because Isabella was William's wife, she had to kill Isabella and take that position for herself?
He understood even less why he had never seen through Juniper's intentions.
Was she too good at pretending, or had they simply never bothered to look at the truth?
Benjamin recalled what he'd been told that day in the hospital room.
Isabella had been pushed down the stairs by Juniper.
Juniper, guilty and afraid, had also jumped from upstairs.
Benjamin slowly opened his eyes.
He suddenly realized he had overlooked a detail.
Where was William at that time? Why didn't he come out to stop it?
Didn't he love Isabella so much?
Why hadn't he protected her?
More and more questions filled Benjamin's mind.
He had only one thought. If William came to visit him again tomorrow, he would ask him directly.
Why hadn't he protected his daughter?
He opened the album and stroked the photo of Isabella before she had grown up, when she was five years old.
He touched the little girl's cheek in the photo, unable to feel sleepy at all.
William sat alone in his office, a cup of coffee gone cold on his desk.
He had originally wanted to see what boring things Benjamin would do next.
But after watching all evening, he found that Benjamin was just reminiscing about the past.
Now he felt even more bored.
He simply left the office and returned to the cottage he had shared with Isabella.
The moment he opened the door, he saw the crystal coffin bathed in moonlight, and inside the coffin, the princess with closed eyes, deep in sleep.
William wished fairy tales were real. Then he could open the coffin and use his kiss to bring Isabella back to life.
No matter what the cost of Isabella waking up was, whether it meant turning him into a frog or a wild cat.
As long as Isabella could live, everything would be worth it.
But fairy tales were just fairy tales. They couldn't become reality.
William's mind kept returning to the image of Benjamin treasuring that photo album.
As if possessed, he went to the closet and opened the cabinet that had been sealed for so long.
The moment the cabinet opened, the stale air made him wrinkle his nose.
He slowly raised his hand and touched the clothes Isabella had once worn.
His hand was very careful, as if touching a sleeping person, afraid of waking them.
He looked at these dresses one by one, then picked up a white dress and held it to his face, sniffing the scent on the fabric.
He breathed in greedily, taking in the faint traces of Isabella's scent that remained.
Finally, his gaze fell on the square box at the bottom of the cabinet.
William crouched down and slowly opened the box.
Inside was the last comb Isabella had used, along with hair accessories she had worn and a photograph of Isabella.
He picked up that photograph and looked at it carefully.
Suddenly, a message from Dylan interrupted his thoughts.