CHAPTER 44: CHAPTER 44: SHE CRIED, "RHYS HAWTHORNE, SAVE ME!

In the dead of night, Rhys Hawthorne finished washing up and prepared to sleep.

Back on the bed where Victoria Monroe used to sleep, even though he hadn’t cleaned it, her rose fragrance had long faded away.

He pulled out the white silk sash from under his pillow and covered his eyes with it, the soft and smooth touch reminiscent of when she accidentally brushed her fingers over his eyes.

It was slightly cool, yet very soft.

After he took it, he never returned it to her; it became his nightly sleep mask.

Suddenly, a gust of wind blew through the cracks of an unclosed window, bringing a piercing chill.

The temperature plummeted sharply.

Rhys removed the sash, lifted the blanket, and prepared to close the window barefoot.

Yet he saw the streetlamp illuminating the thick, swirling snowflakes.

It was snowing.

An image surfaced in his mind.

In a dim alley, a little boy curled up next to a trash can.

The sky poured down thick snowflakes, soon covering the little boy completely.

He remembered the bodyguard’s words: "Young master, hide well here and wait for me to come back and get you."

But that day was truly cold; his entire body was frozen, with no means of contact, and he didn’t dare leave, fearing the bodyguard wouldn’t find him.

He thought he would freeze to death on this winter night when suddenly a voice rang in his ears: "Wow, there’s someone here!"

The little boy looked up to see a little girl throwing away trash, clad in a patched cotton coat.

Though her clothes were worn, they were washed very clean, just like the little girl’s clear bright eyes.

"Hey, are you lost?"

The little girl bent down to look at him and brushed the snow off his body, "Where is your family?"

He didn’t dare to say much, just shook his head.

"In such cold weather, you’ll freeze to death. My house is right next door; do you want to come over to get out of the wind and snow?"

Under the streetlamp, the little girl was thin; her skin was very pale, her chin sharp, making her eyes look large, as beautiful as a Barbie doll played by his cousin.

She reached out to him like an angel.

Rhys reopened his eyes, and the image of the little girl vanished.

On the spotless window, there was only his lonely, solitary silhouette.

Suddenly, sleep evaded him. He took a picture of the heavy snow, yearning to send it to her.

Remembering her message that she had already gone to bed.

This late, better not disturb her.

Just like all these years, watching from afar was already good enough.

His goodwill was merely a burden to her.

That night, Rhys tossed and turned, finding it hard to sleep, and before dawn, he drove to the steam dumpling shop near Victoria Monroe’s alma mater.

By the time he realized, he had already bought two servings.

Since winter set in, dawn arrived later and later. Just before seven, the sky was as dark as ink.

At this hour, she should still be asleep, shouldn’t she?

Rhys inexplicably found himself outside her villa, unable to enter, seeing only one small room in the garden-hidden villa with its light still on.

It was the bathroom.

This early, was she already up?

Rhys suddenly had an inexplicable impulse, wanting, just like when she suddenly came to his house that morning, to hand her the dumplings and soy milk.

From a young age, his family taught him to be calm and rational, and that thought was dismissed in an instant.

She was still married; it wasn’t the right thing to do.

Unannounced visits were impolite and presumptuous.

Just as Rhys was about to drive away, he received a call from Assistant Woods.

"What’s the matter?"

Assistant Woods’s voice was very respectful: "Sir, last night, Julian Fordham’s sister slit her wrists to commit suicide."

Rhys hesitated with his hand on the ignition, "Is she dead?"

"I heard it caused a heart complication, almost didn’t make it, she’s still in surgery now."

Rhys’s eyes were icy, staring at the thick layer of snow that had accumulated on the hood in that short while, his voice cold and violent: "Such trash deserves to die too. What about Julian Fordham?"

"Still outside the operating room."

"Keep an eye on him."

Rhys hung up, instinctively gazing again at that solitary light still burning in the dark night.

He frowned slightly, remembering Victoria Monroe came from a humble background, and even as a movie queen was very frugal, she always turns off lights when going out.

His car had been here over ten minutes, and the light hadn’t gone out.

Recalling Victoria Monroe didn’t look well yesterday, seeming somewhat under the weather, she was pregnant, what if she fell in the bathroom with Julian Fordham not home?

Rhys disregarded discretion and first sent her a message.

The phone screen lit up with a red exclamation mark.

"Friend verification enabled, you are not his/her friend."

She had deleted him?

Calling Victoria Monroe’s number, he discovered he was blocked.

Victoria Monroe and he still had a collaboration; it wasn’t possible she just deleted him, meaning it was Julian Fordham!

Rhys used a Portoros number to dial, it connected, but nobody answered.

Victoria Monroe couldn’t possibly not hear it even sleeping soundly.

Something must have happened to her!

Victoria Monroe had been unconscious for some time, brought back to consciousness by the vibration of the phone on the sink.

The vibrations were continuous, buzzing again and again.

She thought she’d die in the bathroom without being discovered, but the vibrations reminded her she hadn’t been abandoned by the world.

Who is this persistent person continuously calling her?

If Julian Fordham didn’t return, she would surely die here sooner or later.

She regretted shutting off her phone’s voice function back then; otherwise, she could have called for help.

It was too late for regrets; how could she foresee Julian Fordham leaving her to freeze in the cold bathtub all night?

Would the child in her belly survive?

Though she had scheduled an abortion with the doctor, knowing she couldn’t defend this child was excruciatingly painful.

The incessant vibration finally ceased, and the world returned to silence.

She closed her eyes, feeling she couldn’t hold on much longer.

Was this her fate?

Once she hadn’t frozen to death in the slums, only to end up freezing in a mansion’s bathroom.

What would the media say about her?

With Julian Fordham’s personality, he certainly wouldn’t let any media report her death.

She would die silently.

Wondering what Julian Fordham’s reaction would be upon seeing her body, would he weep in sorrow?

Would he regret the impulsive things he had done to her?

She was never afraid of death, only somewhat unwilling with so many things left undone, scenes left unseen.

Victoria Monroe felt her consciousness gradually drifting away.

Julian Fordham, please, come back soon!

God, please open your eyes.

I don’t want to die...

With a "bang," an explosive noise forcibly drew back Victoria Monroe’s dissipating consciousness.

The sound seemed to come from the master bedroom.

She heard urgent footsteps approaching fast, someone was coming! She finally had hope.

The bathroom door opened, and a tall man in a black wool coat appeared in her view.

Tears welled in her eyes and slipped down as she used her last bit of strength to speak: "Rhys, save me..."