Sophie Sullivan secretly took a deep breath and released her hand, leaving a dark red, bloody handprint on his trouser leg.
"Do you know you were wrong?"
Sophie raised her head, her tone unprecedentedly docile and obedient. "I was wrong." This 180-degree change in attitude made her seem almost like a different person.
Charlie River wondered if the maniac was schizophrenic.Perhaps she really was insane?
"Stand up," Thomas Shannon ordered icily.
His cold eyes were as frigid as thousand-year-old unlting glaciers, and even the surrounding air pressure seed to plumt.
Sophie struggled to stand, but as soon as she was on her feet, her legs buckled.
The man snorted, his contempt absolute. As the elevator door opened, he was the first to stride out with his long legs.
Sophie tossed the blood-stained shirt to the man in black and hurried after him.
Stumbling, she caught up to Thomas Shannon’s pace just as Charlie River opened the car door for him.
The tall man bent to get into the car. Charlie River, quick-eyed and deft, moved to close the door.
Like a slippery little loach, Sophie wriggled in and successfully took her seat.
Charlie River: "..."
On the way back to the manor, Thomas Shannon remained silent.
Sophie knew she had angered him this ti, so she tried her best to minimize her presence.
She leaned against the chair back, her head tilted to one side, watching the scenery fly by in reverse.
Her mind felt a bit groggy...
...
Alia Shaw was using a rag to wipe a valuable, person-sized decorative enal piece.
Her mind wasn’t on the task; all she could think about was Thomas Shannon. What could she do to win him back?
As she was lost in her thoughts, she heard a flurry of footsteps from the main hall entrance.
She whipped her head around. Her gaze fell on the face of Thomas Shannon, who was in the lead. A joyful expression lit up her face. "Thomas—" Her voice trailed off.
In that instant, the joy in her eyes vanished.
Thomas Shannon was carrying the maniac, whose face and hands were covered in fresh blood. Her head was lolling to one side, and she was already unconscious.
"Charlie River, call the doctor! Quickly!"
Charlie River, thus summoned, acknowledged and imdiately went to the landline, picked up the receiver, and dialed the dical office’s intercom.
Carrying the maniac, Thomas Shannon strode quickly upstairs.
Alia Shaw clenched the rag in her hand, the color draining from her face...
He... Why was he holding the maniac?Why was he holding that ugly oddity?
Tossing the rag aside, she followed, unwilling to accept it.
In Thomas Shannon’s bedroom, he laid Sophie on the bed, completely disregarding whether the blood on her hands would stain his silk quilt and bedsheet.
Wasn’t he a clean freak?
Alia Shaw hurried forward to stand before Thomas Shannon, her face etched with anxiety and concern, "Thomas, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?"
Her hand overstepped its bounds and grabbed his arm, her frantic gaze scanning him from head to toe.
"Let go!" Thomas Shannon’s expression was grim. "Who gave you permission to touch ?"
Alia Shaw’s heart clenched. Her breath caught in her throat. A dull ache spread from the tip of her heart to her limbs.
Even breathing felt like being cut by a knife.
She slowly released her hand. Her eyes, reddened with grievance, welled with tears. Biting her lip, she couldn’t understand why an ugly woman could make him care so much.
In contrast, she, the one he had once liked, was repeatedly ignored by him.
What was she?And what was that maniac?
The doctor arrived swiftly. Charlie River was the first to step into the bedroom. "Young Master, the doctor is here."
With one hand, Thomas Shannon pushed aside Alia Shaw, who was blocking his path. His brows were tightly furrowed.
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