Chapter 113
Emily Windsor's POV
Lawrence practically dragged Anna toward the villa. As he passed by me, his footsteps faltered. Those sinister eyes fixed on me with a look of warning and possessiveness that sent chills down my spine.
I remained seated, listening to the faint sounds of Anna's crying and Lawrence's suppressed interrogation drifting from inside the villa.
"Did you make some kind of deal with her?"
"No! Lawrence, I wouldn't dare! I just... I just wanted to please her, hoping you'd notice me more..." Anna's defense carried a sobbing tone that sounded somewhat genuine.
Lawrence seemed mollified by her pitiful explanation and eventually didn't press further.
But the string in my heart wound even tighter after this incident.
Anna was too unreliable a lifeline.
I had to leave soon.
After being trapped in this gilded cage for two more days, I felt the suffocating calm driving me insane.
Unable to endure this passive waiting any longer, I walked straight toward the villa's main entrance, wanting to get some air.
"Miss Windsor, please return." The two bodyguards at the door blocked my path like iron walls, expressionless. "Without Mr. Lowe's permission, you cannot leave the villa."
"Move aside." My voice was cold as ice.
The bodyguards remained unmoved.
As we stood at an impasse, Lawrence descended from his second-floor study. He leaned against the spiral staircase railing, looking down at me with amused indulgence in his tone: "Want to go out?"
I didn't answer, only stared at him coldly.
"It's not safe outside." He walked down the stairs slowly, stopping before me. His tone was as gentle as coaxing a stubborn child. "Have you forgotten about those people who want to capture you for the bounty? You're only safe by my side."
"Safe?" I gave a self-mocking smile. "Lawrence, this cage of yours suffocates me more than those wolves out there."
I didn't want to waste more words on him and turned to leave.
He effortlessly caught my wrist, pulling me back. His patience finally exhausted, displeasure flickered across his face: "Emily, stop this nonsense."
"I'm not being dramatic." I stared at him intently, my eyes filled with desperate madness. "If you keep blocking me, I'll die right in front of you."
Lawrence seemed stunned for a moment, then laughed lowly as if he'd heard an amusing joke.
He clearly believed I was just throwing a tantrum, using this childish method to grab his attention.
His dismissiveness became the final straw that broke my rationality.
I violently shook off his hand, rushed to the nearby sideboard, grabbed the silver fruit knife sitting there, and without hesitation pressed it against my own slender, vulnerable throat.
The moment the cold blade touched my skin, I could almost smell death's nearby presence, metallic and imminent.
"Lawrence, let me go."
Everyone in the dining room froze at my sudden action, barely daring to breathe. The smile on Lawrence's face finally solidified completely.
He stared at me intently. All the playful amusement in those beautiful eyes burned away in an instant, replaced by an ominous, storm-brewing stillness.
"You think threatening me with death will make me let you go?" He laughed coldly, approaching me step by step. His gaze was sharp enough to pierce through all my secrets. "Emily, stop performing."
He suddenly stopped, separated from me by a dining table. A cruel curve formed on his lips as he precisely shattered my pretense, word by word.
"You don't want to die. You just want to escape."
My heart plummeted. The hand gripping the knife trembled involuntarily.
"I don't know what you're talking about!" I snapped back, trying to cover that moment of guilt.
Lawrence scoffed, no longer giving me any opportunity to perform.
He lunged forward suddenly. Before I could react, his uninjured hand clamped around my wrist like an iron vise.
A crisp sound followed. My wrist bone felt like it would shatter under his grip. The excruciating pain forced my fingers to release, and the silver knife clattered onto the cold marble floor.
He kicked the knife away with one foot, then roughly grabbed my face, forcing me to meet his eyes.
In those beautiful eyes, the last trace of amusement vanished, leaving only the darkness before a storm.
"Emily, put away those inappropriate little schemes of yours." His fingers pressed harder, nearly embedding into my flesh. "I'm keeping you here, not for you to scheme about escaping from me. You're mine. Even if you die, you can only die by my hand, in this villa. Understand?"
I glared at him, hatred surging in my chest, yet unable to utter a single word.
He seemed satisfied with my powerless, completely controlled appearance. He released me, straightened his collar leisurely, then gave cold orders to the terrified bodyguards: "Take her back to her room. From now on, without my permission, she's not allowed to see anyone. Not even a fly gets in."
Two bodyguards dragged me like a lifeless object, throwing me back into that luxurious prison.
The heavy door slammed shut behind me, followed by the cold sound of the lock clicking.
I rushed to the door, frantically pounding on it, screaming and cursing until my palms were red and swollen, until my throat could no longer produce a sound. Only then did I slide down the door, collapsing.
Despair rose like a tide, drowning me inch by inch.
I don't know how long I sat there in a daze. Deep into the night, something was quietly slipped under the door through that narrow gap.
Like a drowning person grasping at a lifeline, I scrambled over on hands and knees, picking it up with trembling hands.
It was Anna's handwriting, messy and panicked: [Lawrence is starting to investigate what happened that day. I can't keep lying much longer! You have to be patient and wait. Wait until the Lowe family dinner party—that's our only chance!]
The Lowe family dinner party.
I clutched the note in my palm, my nails nearly piercing my flesh.
Anna was my only hope now. Even if this hope was as fragile as a spider's thread, I had to hold on tight.
Over the following days, I fell completely silent.
I stopped crying, stopped refusing food. I even began obediently wearing the beautiful clothes the servants brought me, sitting quietly at the dining table, taking small sips of the porridge I once wouldn't even look at.
My compliance seemed to please Lawrence.
He would sit across from me handling documents while watching me with the gaze of someone admiring an art piece, as if I truly were a canary he'd successfully tamed.