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“What the hell happened?” Doc Thomas asked as he gazed at the disfigured body on the bed. "Is she even alive?" He probed. “Yes, I checked her breathing,” Lucian replied. “Then what…” “Just stop with the questioning and check her. That’s why you’re here,” he snapped. Jake studied his friend for a moment. "You know this is a life and death situation. You should be thankful that I’m here, instead of being bossy, " he said, his tone measured. “Huh! You’re doing your job,” Creed pointed out, unfazed by the tension in the room. “Ah… You’re right,” Jack replied, not wanting to escalate the situation, and hurried to Mira’s side. He assessed the bloody nails, cuts, and bruises, all over her body. Then, he examined her face and eyes. He sighed. A quick glance revealed her malnourished state. "What was the last thing she ate before passing out?" he inquired, without turning. “They said she hasn’t eaten anything for the past two weeks,” Lucian replied. “Figures,” Jack muttered, noticing
Lucian pushed himself up and walked over to Mira’s bedside. She was whimpering from another troubled dream, evident from the visible tears in her eyes. He sat down and, instead of using the handkerchief Jack had used; he gently wiped her tears away with his fingers. He didn't immediately clean his hands, instead staring at the saltwater on his fingertips. An uneasy feeling gnawed at him, though he couldn't quite pinpoint its source. He didn't want to leave or let her go. A nagging intuition warned him that ignoring his friend's advice might lead to regret. Then again, had he ever made the right choice in his life? Mira had unexpectedly become important to him, despite his reluctance to admit it. The mansion had gained vitality since her arrival. He even found a strange fondness for her hysterical outbursts and forthright manner of speaking. Whenever he returned home, he secretly looked forward to her ear-piercing rants; he found them oddly endearing. He lifted his gaze to her inno
Ken found himself frozen in place, struggling to muster a smile. The rationality he had lost moments ago had returned, a powerful resurgence. He turned slowly, facing his boss seated nonchalantly on a red sofa in the expansive living room. Dressed in a brown T-shirt and black pants, Lucian exuded casual confidence, his neatly combed hair slicked back. As dashing as ever, a lavish dinner spread before him, the two locked eyes briefly. Ken then exhaled deeply and retraced his steps. "Ah, Sir, I thought you were upstairs," Ken said, his smile strained but present. "Why would I be upstairs at this time of day?" Lucian inquired, observing his disheveled secretary. "And why do you look like you're about to commit murder?" A fleeting pallor washed over Ken's face before he quickly adopted a feigned, innocent expression. "Like what, sir?" "Like you're on the verge of strangling someone." Ken blinked, pretending confusion. "I have no idea what you're talking about." Despite his anxiety, h
Lucian heaved a sigh, deliberately brushing off the man who stood in the doorway, his gaze fixed on him. He had no need for prophetic insight to deduce Jake's thoughts, but in all honesty, did he even care?"HELL NO!" he answered that question in his mind, dismissing the concern over Jake's musings. His thoughts were preoccupied with far weightier matters than any assumptions Jake might harbor.His eyes returned to the document, another sigh escaping his lips. Ah, yes. The document held fragments of information that were still alien to him, a puzzle he was keen on deciphering. Yet, these details merely scratched the surface of what he truly sought. They recounted her experiences and actions subsequent to becoming an IED patient. What he yearned for was a glimpse into her life before the rage and chaos took over, particularly the incident that sparked her flight from home.But alas, no matter how many resources he poured into the search, the information he sought remained elusive. Undo
Lucian stared at her, confused. "What do you mean, who am I?" he questioned. "You don't know who I am?" he asked, shocked. "No, I don't," she replied with a serious face. "I'm quite puzzled to find unfamiliar faces as the first thing I'm seeing after waking up," she continued. "But where is Lucy and Roman?" she asked, glancing around. "They're supposed to be here." "Who is she asking for?" Lucian wondered aloud, his gaze fixed on her. Her accent is... "Jake, do you want to explain what's going on?" Lucian demanded, not taking his eyes off her. "Well, the fact that she doesn't recognize you and the change in her accent could be an after-effect of the drug she took," Jake sighed and stepped forward. "It could indicate a relapsed memory. She can't recall anything." he added with a frown "If that's the case, why the sudden personality change, and why is she asking for people I don't know?" Lucian inquired further. "Just because you don't know them doesn't mean she doesn't," Jake repli
As the moments unfolded, a rush of memories surged back to me, vivid and intense. The aftermath of these memories played out before my mind's eye, each moment carefully replayed as if it had just happened. I wanted to safeguard the surge of my sanity, to keep it hidden for as long as possible. But it was evident that everyone present, even the maid, sensed the shift in my mental state. Would that be alright, though? If he realizes that I'm not fit to be his wife, would he let me go? Yes, that thought had crossed my mind. Yet, in those brief moments of memory lapse, he didn’t abandon me or treat me with hatred. Instead, I recalled the care he showed me. He easily could have been mistaken for a real husband. Now, looking at his concerned face, I felt bewildered. He should release me. "Yes, I'm okay," I replied to him as he gently guided me to the bed. Lucian joined me but remained quiet. He signalled to Jake, who approached with his medical equipment. During the doctor's examination,
“You’re very quiet, hope you are not mad?” Lucian asked, attempting to initiate a conversation. “Is there a reason for me to be?” she replied with a question. “Well … I suppose,” he responded. I stared at him for a few minutes before speaking again. “Why do you suppose so?” I questioned without looking at him. Lucian remained quiet, undoubtedly searching for the perfect excuse, but that didn’t matter anymore. The cat was already out of the bag; there was no need to act all high and mighty. “Look, Mr. Creed, you …” “My apologies,” he blurted out, cutting me off. “What?” He sighed loudly, “Look, I know you wanted to keep that part of your life a secret. I mean IED is not something you share with others.” “And yet, you knew about it. Not just you, but the entire household,” I spat out. “I guess you really did dig up a lot about me.” “Not that much, and on the contrary, it’s just the four of us,” he replied. “I take it the ‘four of us’ means Josie the maid is included?” “Yes,
In the dimly lit room, the weight of our collaboration hung in the air like a delicate dance of shadows. Lucian Creed's attention had been ensnared, and now I found myself entwined in a plan of uncertain outcomes. His intentions mirrored mine – a calculated symbiosis, a dangerous alliance shrouded in intrigue. As the firelight flickered, our pact unfolded, revealing a path fraught with risk and possibility. "It's ironic," I began, "how the aroma of raw hard cash is the only scent potent enough to lure Nicholas Dolman from his hole." Lucian's response was swift, his tone measured. "Not unlike my own theory," he mused. "But it different," I countered, eyes locking with his. "For this plan to succeed, it demands both our co-operations. My father likely believes I've been bartered away or enslaved. Little does he know, I'm poised to live as a true Creed wife – relishing opulence, wielding influence?" "Very well," he responded, a quizzical eyebrow arcing upward as his curiosity was und