Chapter 10
I woke up in the hospital, disoriented and aching all over. Miss Greer was by my side, her eyes lighting up the moment I stirred.
“Miss Greer, you’re awake!” she exclaimed, leaning closer.
I tried to speak, but my throat was parched. “Where‘ s Adrian?”
Miss Greer offered a small, reassuring smile. “He’s awake too. Your father and the others have been arrested. I called Abigail to return, but I’m not sure what happened after that. I brought you here and haven‘ t left your side since.”
I attempted to smile, but the pain in my jaw made it difficult.
Her voice softened, tinged with anger. “Your father was too cruel. How could he do that to his own daughter? Don’t worry, though–Abigail is furious. She‘ Il make sure he pays for what he’s done.”
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I didn’t want to talk about it, so I stayed silent. Sensing my reluctance, Miss Greer didn’t press further and sat with me quietly, mentioning that Abigail might visit
soon.
But days passed, and Abigail never came.
Instead, George, the butler, paid me a brief visit. He looked apologetic as he entered, explaining that he hadn’t been at the villa recently and wanted to check on me.
“I’m fine,” I said, brushing off his concerns. “How‘ s Adrian?”
George‘ s face brightened. “Mr. Winslow is improving steadily. He‘ s regaining
consciousness and can speak short sentences. He’s even been eating porridge on his own.”
I managed a small laugh, but my mind was restless. What would Adrian be like once he fully recovered? Did he even care about me? After all, I had been nothing more than his caretaker.
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George hesitated, his tone lowering. “The villa has been busy lately. Many people have been coming to celebrate Mr. Winslow’s recovery. A few young women from prominent families have visited, including… one of Mr. Winslow‘ s ex- girlfriends.”
Miss Greer frowned. “What do you mean?”
George‘ s expression turned awkward. “Well, now that Mr. Winslow is conscious, his inheritance and position in the family business make him highly sought after. Abigail will likely begin searching for a suitable wife for him–someone from a family of similar status.”
His words hit me like a cold wind. My heart sank as I quickly pieced it all together. Adrian‘ s recovery meant I no longer had a place in his world. His family would never accept someone like me–a girl with a troubled past and no social standing.
Miss Greer noticed the change in my expression and tried to reassure me. “Miss
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Greer, don’t think that way. Abigail genuinely likes you. She’s probably just busy. She’ll come to see you soon, I’m
sure.”
I turned my head away, unwilling to respond.
George sighed, sensing the tension. He excused himself and left the room quietly.
I spent another week in the hospital before finally being discharged. During that time, Abigail never came, and George didn’t return either. Even Miss Greer eventually had to go back home, likely under orders from Abigail to distance herself from me.
One afternoon, a housemaid arrived at my hospital room with a small bag. “This is for you,” she said before leaving quickly.
Inside, I found a bank card and a folded note.
“Miss Greer, there‘ s 5 million dollars in this account. The password is 223451. Thank you for everything you‘ ve done. I
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hope we meet again someday.”
The note was unsigned, but I didn’t need a signature to know it was from Abigail.
I stared at the card, my emotions swirling. After everything, this was how it ended. Still, 5 million dollars was more than I
could have ever imagined. It was enough to start over, to build a life I could finally call my own.
I put the card away and left the hospital with a strange mix of relief and uncertainty.
Five million dollars!
With that kind of money, I could buy a luxury apartment, adopt a dog, and take the civil service exam without worrying about my finances. It felt like a new chapter was opening in my life, one filled with endless possibilities.
Two months of caring for Adrian had earned me more than just money–it had given me strength I didn’t know I had.
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As I walked home, I stopped by a street vendor for some grilled food. The smell was irresistible, and I eagerly reached for a skewer of sizzling meat.
The moment I touched the hot pan, I yelped, burning my fingers. Tears sprang to my eyes from the sharp pain, but instead of frustration, I started to laugh.
The burn felt oddly symbolic–a reminder that pain was fleeting and that I had endured far worse. For the first time in weeks, I felt truly free.
My new life had just begun.
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