Her mind was even more muddled. She clutched her aching head, the mask on her face threatening to fall off.
"Maniac, you brought this upon yourself!"
The man clenched his jaw, his voice squeezed out from between gritted teeth. He sounded furious with her, and perhaps angrier at his own lack of self-control where she was concerned.
Sophie slowly woke up.
"Bastard," she muttered, frowning.
She glanced at the floor-to-ceiling windows. The heavy curtains had been drawn, leaving only a layer of thin, translucent gauze. The sky outside had darkened; only the brilliant lights of the castle pierced the gloom.
Sophie surveyed the spacious bedroom. She was still in Thomas Shannon’s room. She sat up on the bed and got off.
Sophie began to worry. If this continues, will I become pregnant?
When she opened the door, the maid standing guard outside immediately met her gaze. "You’re awake?"
Sophie saw a tray in the maid’s hand, and on it, a syringe.
Subconsciously, she recoiled a step. The memories of being forcibly injected with sedatives in the asylum, of days spent in a drowsy haze, were still vivid. The sight of the syringe alone made her heart pound with residual fear. It was a deep-seated fear, usually dormant. But whenever something connected to those horrifying images appeared, the terror would resurface, growing wildly like invasive vines.
The maid gestured to her sides. Two other maidens immediately stepped forward and seized Sophie’s arms.
"What do you think you’re doing?"
The maid picked up the syringe, expelled the air, and swiftly jabbed the needle into Sophie’s arm, depressing the plunger fully. Only then did the maid inform her, with a hint of mock benevolence, "This is medicine to prevent pregnancy."
Sophie froze for one second, then a cold laugh escaped her lips. She glared at the maid, yanked her arm free, and wiped away the bead of blood welling from the needle hole with her fingertips.
The first maid instructed the other two, "Take her to wash up. The Young Master will see her later."
"Yes." The two maidens led Sophie away.
Dressed in a white gauze skirt, Sophie’s tall, slender figure exuded an almost sacred, untouchable elegance. A magnificent, eye-catching mask added a veil of mystery to her exquisite features.
She was escorted into a black Rolls-Royce, which promptly departed the castle. She didn’t see Thomas Shannon at all during this time.
Puzzled, Sophie watched through the car window as the magnificent castle receded into the distance. A sudden surge of excitement coursed through her. Her blood seemed to boil, her pulse thrumming with a wild, urgent call.
Perhaps this is my best chance to escape!
She lowered her head, allowing her hair to cascade over her shoulders and veil her face. Her perfect, rose-petal lips curved into a subtle smile.
Half an hour later, Sophie found herself staring at the relentless stream of traffic outside the car window.
Seizing the opportunity at a red light, she agilely pushed open the car door and darted away.
"Stop!" The black-clothed bodyguard, clearly not expecting her to flee, yelled as he quickly lowered the car window.
Sophie’s slender figure weaved nimbly through the vehicles, swiftly vanishing into the encroaching night.
The man in black slammed his fist on the steering wheel in frustration. How am I going to explain this to the Young Master?
He took out his mobile phone and reported, "That woman escaped! Please, Young Master, punish me for my negligence!"
"Escaped?" The man’s voice rose, tinged with a slight disdain.
"It was my failure to supervise her properly; she managed to get out of the car and escape," the man in black recounted, explaining the situation in detail.
Thomas Shannon let out a cold sneer. His words were like the eternal chill of a polar glacier, "Bring her back to me!"