This was Adaline's fourth day on the streets. She was covered in filth, reeking of garbage, chased away everywhere she went. She had waited and waited, but Carter never came for her.
She coughed constantly, day and night. The other homeless people stayed away, afraid she was contagious. She coughed up mouthful after mouthful of thick, dark blood. Each breath burned. Every step felt like walking on cotton.
She struggled down the street, asking everyone she saw to borrow a phone. No one would lend one. She couldn't walk anymore. She collapsed. A kind-hearted college student, Paige Foster, helped her up.
"Are you okay? Should I take you to a hospital?"
"Can... I borrow... your phone?"
"A phone? Here."
Her trembling hands took it. She dialed the number burned into her bones.
Ring. Ring.
"Who is this?" That cold voice.
Her eyes slowly reddened. Her voice was rough and hoarse. "Carter... it's me."
"Adaline, you need to--"
"No, that's not... cough, cough, cough--"
She started coughing again, and a huge gush of blood sprayed out. The student next to her gasped.
"Oh my God, are you okay? You're coughing up blood!"
She felt her body growing cold. A fierce will to live made her beg. "I'm... sick. Really sick. Can you... lend me some money? Just... three thousand dollars? Please? I'm in so much pain..."
Every organ, every inch of her body ached--a deep, bone-crushing pain.
But on the other end of the line came a laugh--cold and cruel. "Adaline, using that trick again? Why don't you just die?" Each word was a knife.
In a daze, she looked up and saw a giant screen playing a news headline: [Holder Group CEO Spends 30 Billion on a Private Estate to Make His Beloved Smile]
And in her ear, Carter's merciless voice: "You'd better pray I don't find you. Because if I do, you'll spend the rest of your life in Westcliff."
The line went dead. And so did the last flicker of hope inside her.
After Carter hung up, he immediately ordered a trace on the IP address to find her.
"Carter, what's wrong? Who was that?"
"Business." He didn't tell her the truth.
Elois's health was fragile. No need to worry her.
"Carter, I love this estate so much! Thank you!"
"I'm glad you like it." An estate meant nothing to him.Years ago, he had been hunted, gravely wounded, at death's door. If Elois hadn't saved him, he would have died. He owed her his life. Then Adaline had stolen the token he left for Elois and pretended to be his savior, blackmailing him into marriage. He had thought she was just spoiled and willful. But this proved she was vicious and unforgivable.
Elois asked tentatively, "Carter... have you gotten the token back yet?"
He came back to himself. "She hasn't returned it to you?"
Elois looked troubled, then said softly, "No, not yet. Sister just got out. I feel bad asking. I don't want to upset her. I was going to wait until she's adjusted to life outside. After all, it's the keepsake you left for me."
She looked down shyly, the picture of maidenly modesty.
Carter said quietly, "You're too kind."
She had stolen the token and impersonated Elois, and yet Elois was still considerate of her feelings.
Elois started to lean toward him. "Carter, I--"
His phone vibrated.
He answered immediately.
The voice on the other end reported: "Boss, we've found Miss Brandt."
