Chapter 110
Emily Windsor's POV
I'd expected Lawrence to lose control again, just like last night.
But instead, he merely stared at me, his chest heaving violently, until somehow—impossibly—he forced that apocalyptic rage back down.
He hurled the bowl of congee to the floor. The ceramic shattered with a shrill, piercing crack.
Without a word, he spun on his heel and stormed out, his footsteps pounding. The heavy villa door slammed behind him with a deafening boom that rattled the windows.
A maid crept over to clean up the mess, sighing as she worked. "Miss Windsor, why make things so difficult for yourself? Mr. Lowe genuinely cares for you. Fighting him like this... it won't end well."
I ignored her completely, shuffling back to the sofa like a hollow shell and switching on the television.
The news channel interrupted its regular programming with breaking local coverage.
The anchor delivered the story in that flat, formulaic tone: "New York authorities have received multiple reports regarding an unidentified organization posting substantial bounties on the dark web, seeking the global capture of a lawyer named Emily. Sources indicate this lawyer has significant ties to the recent cruise ship massacre in international waters..."
My work photo from before my license was revoked flashed across the screen.
In that picture, my eyes held confidence and determination—a universe away from the walking corpse I'd become.
Global manhunt.
I was still staring numbly at the screen when the villa door burst open again.
Lawrence had returned. His gaze immediately locked onto the television, then shifted to my face—far too focused for his liking.
He strode over and snatched the remote, killing the broadcast.
"Don't be afraid." He approached me, actually reaching out as if to embrace me.
I recoiled violently, as though stung by a scorpion, my eyes broadcasting undisguised revulsion.
Lawrence's hand froze mid-air. This time, strangely, he didn't react with anger.
He simply withdrew his hand and stood before me, adopting the posture of a protector. His voice was deliberate, each word a vow: "Emily, listen to me. As long as you stay by my side, as long as you remain in this villa, no one will lay a finger on you."
He turned and immediately summoned the head of villa security, issuing cold orders to elevate all security protocols to maximum—twenty-four-hour surveillance with zero blind spots. Not even a bird could breach the perimeter.
I watched him play this devoted protector role and felt only bone-deep chill.
Lawrence had transformed this villa into a true cage.
And he seemed to relish it—keeping me imprisoned while performing his sick pantomime of concern.
During the day, he'd sit across from me at meals like nothing was wrong, those peach-blossom eyes drinking in my inability to eat.
At night, he'd return reeking of alcohol and perch on the edge of my bed, watching me in silence until dawn.
I became a declawed beast, burying all emotion beneath layers of numbness and compliance, waiting for my moment.
Several days later, Lawrence had some crucial business to attend to. He left early with most of the security detail.
I sat alone in the living room, flipping through a fashion magazine without absorbing a single word.
Anna descended the stairs on her stilettos like a preening peacock, all swaying hips and attitude. With Lawrence gone, she didn't bother hiding her smugness and provocation.
"Well, well, Miss Windsor—sitting here all alone? Missing your man already?" She laughed that syrupy laugh and settled across from me, deliberately waving her freshly manicured nails in my face. "I suppose you would be. After all, aside from this house, you have absolutely nothing left. Unlike me—Lawrence thinks of me wherever he goes, always bringing back gifts."
I didn't even bother lifting my eyes.
My dismissal clearly infuriated her. She was about to escalate when a piercing alarm suddenly shrieked from outside, followed by screams and chaos.
"What's happening?" Anna leapt from the sofa, face draining of color.
The remaining guards and staff dissolved into panic. Some rushed outside to investigate, others frantically secured doors and windows.
"There's some kind of riot—it's breached the community gates!" A guard burst in, face taut with tension. "The supervisor says to get Miss Windsor and Miss Anna to the safe room immediately!"
Two guards flanked us, "escorting" Anna and me down to the basement-level panic room.
The space was fortress-like—the most secure location in the entire villa.
The heavy steel door sealed behind us, cutting off all outside noise. In that confined space, only Anna and I remained, along with the cloying reek of her perfume.
"This is all your fault, you cursed woman!" Anna was still rattled, directing all her fear and anger at me. "If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be in this mess!"
I leaned against the wall in the corner, watching her hysterics with cold indifference. I said nothing.
Then suddenly—a sharp pain at the back of my neck, like something had pricked me.
A sickeningly sweet numbness flooded through my spine with terrifying speed.
Ether.
My vision went black. My body crumpled.
In those final seconds of consciousness, I saw Anna's face—twisted with jealous hatred—split into a venomous, triumphant smile.
When I came to, I was sprawled on the frigid floor, wrists and ankles bound with coarse rope.
My skull throbbed. My limbs felt like they'd been filled with lead.
Anna wasn't alone in the safe room anymore. There was a weasel-faced man with brutal features, rubbing his hands together and speaking to her with obsequious deference.
"Miss Anna, I knocked her out just like you asked. What do you want me to do next?"
"Strip her." Anna's voice was glacial. "And take photos—detailed ones. Make sure you get her face clearly. I want all of New York to see exactly what kind of trash Lawrence has been doting on."
The man's eyes immediately lit with predatory hunger.
He turned toward me, his gaze crawling over my body like filthy insects. He began unbuckling his belt as he approached.
"Don't you worry, Miss Anna. I'll make sure Miss Windsor here has a real good time. The photos are gonna be explosive."
Nausea roiled through my gut.
"Stop." I forced the word through my throat with every ounce of strength I possessed.
Both of them froze, clearly not expecting me to regain consciousness so quickly.
"You're awake?" Anna folded her arms and stood over me, looking down with cruel mockery. "Even better. Now you can watch yourself get ruined in real time. Emily, you thought you could challenge me? You're nowhere near my level."
"Anna," I struggled into a sitting position, meeting her venomous glare with a weak smile. "Is it really worth it? Turning yourself into this hateful, deranged creature... all for a man who doesn't love you?"