"Do you know where he went?" Flora's grip on the blanket loosened slightly, but the negative feelings at the bottom of her heart didn't seem to be fading away.
Emma pondered for a few seconds, as if trying to recall the recent events, then shook her head: "No, I don't know... But he seemed very hurried, it must be something important.
But miss... why would you care about that man? What you should be most concerned about now is your own health and the baby in your womb." Only when the mother is genuinely healthy, both physically and emotionally, can the fetus grow normally.
Not her first time being pregnant, Flora, of course, understood this simple principle.
Without hesitation, she replied: "I understand, but..." Yet, the frosty, aloof expression of Matthew from that day still lingered in her mind.
Until she could explain things clearly to him, the weight in her heart would not be lifted.
"The doctor said that the injection he gave you was actually a tonic, not 'that kind of drug'.
And with such a good opportunity, that man didn't take advantage of..." The young girl couldn't say the words "abort the baby", she had to use a couple of hums and hahs instead: "Hmm... so he probably won't make things difficult for you in the future."
Flora let out another languid sigh: "What about Charlie?"
She remembered, she came to this mansion to meet her son.
But since she stepped into this place, she seemed to have never seen the silhouette of her six or seven-year-old boy who was like a little old man.
In the end, Emma was just a fifteen-year-old girl.
Hearing this, she hurriedly shook her head, clumsily trying to find an excuse to divert her mistress's attention: "Miss... It's a beautiful sunny day today, why don't we go out for a walk?"
Understanding the intentions of her young guardian, Flora pushed herself off the bed, heading straight outside.
At the door, she turned to raise an eyebrow at Emma: "You said we should go for a walk.
Are you planning to let me go alone?"
Obviously, Emma had no real intention of suggesting a walk.
But, pushed to this point, she had to stick to her story.
Anyway, a short walk wasn't a bad idea.
The weather was beautiful today, the golden sunlight scattered over the grass, painting a hopeful color.
Flora stepped onto the green carpet, once again letting out a sigh.
"Miss, what's wrong? Are you thinking about something sad?" The sadness that Flora couldn't stop pondering over was her relationship with Matthew.
Flora shook her head: "Nothing, really nothing." Just that she didn't quite understand his attitude towards her: "Right, Matthew..."
Mentioning that man, Emma got the opportunity to share some stories that occurred while her mistress was unconscious or otherwise absent: "When you suddenly fainted, that man seemed very frightened and worried... the doctor even said that..."
Clearing her throat, the young girl mimicked the doctor's tone: "Matthew will not harm her." She found the doctor's words not wrong, that Charles man was not the kind to be inconsistent with his words once he had decided something.
"Indeed... he always tries his best to ensure that I don't get hurt.
But in reality, in this love affair, the one who keeps hurting the other, is me.
Over and over again... always like this....
Emma, am I a terrible person?"
Emma was so shocked that she widened her eyes, stopping to stare at Flora's beautiful face: "Miss, why would you think such nonsense?".
Warm sunlight sprinkled over the grass.
Today was a beautiful day.
Yet, the weather's charm failed to warm Flora's gloom. Her pallor remained as sullen as the overcast sky on the verge of a storm, her heart brimming with an oppressive feeling that refused to dissipate.
All around her, every door seemed sealed shut, no escape in sight.
There seemed no way to reclaim the affection she and Matthew once shared.
"I don't know what to do... Is there really no way to turn back time, Emma? Is this all my fault?" She sighed deeply, her vacant gaze drifting towards the tightly shut door of the mansion.
Although she was still here, sharing the same breath with Matthew, her heart ached as if a lifetime had passed.
Cold eyes, devoid of any warmth, shouldn't be the ones adorning the face of her man.
Emma tightened her lips, gripping the young mistress's hand: "It's not like that... Miss... Your hands are so cold!"
"You don't need to comfort me."
"I'm not comforting you. But it's clear that you are not to blame in all of this." Emma looked straight into Flora's eyes, her voice resonating with conviction: "Mimi and I have discussed in depth and already have a direction for the investigation.
Miss, you didn't willingly climb into Patrick's bed, did you?"
If Flora had desired to be with Patrick, she wouldn't have rejected him time and time again.
She nodded faintly: "I'm not entirely sure what happened, but I met a part-time housemaid that day. She gave me a glass of water..." A thought sparked in her mind - could it be the trick of that woman?
Since all this began, she was so absorbed in dealing with Matthew's attitude, and seeking his understanding, that she hadn't carefully considered everything.
Indeed, how could such coincidences be possible?
She arrived at Patrick's place only to 'coincidentally' encounter an unfamiliar part-time maid.
This woman handed her a glass of water.
After drinking the water, she lost consciousness, and upon waking, all was irreversibly tangled.
How could such coincidences be possible?
Emma's words cut like a sword: "There must have been something in that water! If we find that woman, we can get to the mastermind and discover the truth.
But..." This was indeed the most frustrating part: "... they are too cunning."
Leaving no trace behind.
The part-time maid vanished, as if evaporated from the city itself.
"Miss, if I can think of all this, so can Uncle Charles." It was just that he was momentarily perplexed and hadn't fully composed his thoughts yet.
Flora faintly smiled: "Thank you." For consoling her.
"Emma, go inside first. I have something to discuss privately with Flora." A cold, emotionless voice echoed from not too far away.
Matthew, one hand in his pocket, bore an unchanged expression on his face.
Cold and distant, just like their first encounter.
No, even more terrifying than that day.
Once Emma disappeared from sight, Matthew turned his gaze towards Flora.
The woman he loved wholeheartedly, yet the one who inflicted upon him his deepest wound.
Every glimpse of her caused his heart to involuntarily leap in his chest.
And each pulse throbbed with indescribable pain.
"Flora..." His voice lowered, murmuring her name like a lament: "You treat me like a puppet in your hands, making a mockery of my feelings, does it amuse you?"
Flora's eyes widened in shock, shaking her head, her voice barely a whisper: "No..."
She wanted to explain but was cut off by the man before her: "If it's not amusing, then why do you do it? Are you bored and need someone to toy with... to kill time?" Seeing her expression, he smirked: "You know fear too, huh? But when betraying me, you didn't consider today.
Handing the map to Ethelbert, bedding Patrick, having his child... I must be blinded by my infatuation for you to trust you so."
Trust, in return for deception, for betrayal.
He began to question, did this woman even possess a heart?
"It's not like that... Listen to me! Back then... I handed the map to that guy to save you, and the markings on that map were not..." Flora rushed to explain.
"Ethelbert is smart enough to locate the exact position.
Do you think he wouldn't find it?" He rhetorically asked, then answered himself: "No, you're too clever, it's only I who is a fool, letting you access such crucial secrets.
Do you know what that map marks? Do you know the significance of those secrets? Do you know the price of revealing those secrets?"
This Matthew was completely alien to her, not the man she knew.
He forcefully pushed her down on the grass, his body pinning hers without hesitation.
"Why so silent? Answer me! You've always been so clever, you must know all of this, don't you?"
"Were you enthusiastic on those men's beds?" There was a flame within Matthew, his reasoning long consumed by it.
Tears welled in Flora's eyes, her head shaking incessantly: "No... Don't do this... there's nothing between me and them... I didn't sleep with them..."
"Do you think I would believe what I saw with my own eyes or the lies of a woman like you?" The answer was crystal clear.
In love, trust matters the most.
If the trust between two people is lost, the truth becomes inconsequential.
From Flora's eyes trickled a crystalline tear, as she bit her lip, struggling to stifle the sob that threatened to escape her throat.
Long after, she finally spoke, her voice thick and strained: "We should part ways."
"What did you say?" Matthew seemed taken aback.
"I said... we should part ways." Flora looked up, her gaze settling on the face of the man she loved.
Even now, he stirred in her the same tremors as he did in the beginning: "Isn't it all just... a game? The game's over, we part ways."
She forced herself to utter these cold, dispassionate words, even as they carved her heart, bleeding it dry.
Matthew did not hesitate: "Break up? Fine, but you must get rid of the child in your womb." He meant, if she wanted to keep the child, she must stay by his side.
"Alright." At this point, Flora could accept anything.
Her icy hand gently rested on her lower belly, she silently apologized to the child within: "I'm sorry, I failed to protect you. I'm incompetent, unable to make your father trust."
"Now, serve me well, and if satisfied... perhaps I will let you go."
His words dissolved in the whirl of their intertwining tongues, and the deepest, most intimate touch between them.
Flora clung desperately to the man's shoulders above her, her nails leaving not too deep, not too light wounds on his skin.
She surrendered herself to him completely, for perhaps, this would be the last time they would be together...