After sending the text, Hilla imdiately turned off her phone. She laid on her bed quietly. A familiar call echoed from a distance in her ears, whispering the words, "Hilla, where are you?"
A long while later, a faint smile ford on her lips. Tears dropped without a sound and drenched her hair.
’Julian Jorgansen! You and I are through! From today on, I want nothing to do with you!’
That night, nightmare after nightmare assaulted her peace. She dreamt of her father eting an accident during a plane ride; she dreamt of her mother dying; she dreamt of the Holt mansion going bankrupt and the house itself being seized by the bank; she heard the sound of the heavy tal chains ringing as the padlock clicked in place; she dreamt of herself walking through the gates of Anderson’s house.
At so point, she ended up bawling in her sleep, waking herself up with her cries.
The blinding light of dawn shone into the room from the window, marking the beginning of a new day that never failed to arrive.
Hilla Holt rembered sothing, and she quickly turned on her phone.
That person had sent hundreds of text ssages, and they were all automatically ignored by Hilla. She imdiately scrolled through her phone to search for that unknown number. Without hesitation, she dialed and called the number.
"Miss Holt, a car is waiting for you in front of the campus’ gate."
Before Hilla managed to say anything, the person on the other side imdiately said these words. It was obvious that the other person had waited for so ti. Perhaps the car was not there to pick her up. Perhaps it was there to capture her.
That being said, Hilla did not have the ti to think too much about it. She quickly changed into sothing new, gave her hair a simple brush, and ran out of the dormitory.
Outside the campus gate was a black colored Bentley parked by the side. William Willford stood as still as a flagpole beside the car door. When Hilla showed up, William proactively opened the door.
"I’m sorry. I forgot that I’d turned off my phone."
"It’s all good, Miss Holt. Madam Organa knows that you’ll hold true to your word."
Hilla Holt smiled lightly before she went into the car.
Hold true to her words? He should have co clean. He knew that Hilla would not choose to abandon her promise for the sake of obtaining the Holt mansion back.
The entire journey to the Anderson mansion was quiet. There was no parade, no cheer and the works ... It was so quiet that she looked nothing like a bride to be
shortly married.
To be accurate, the Andersons did not prepare for a wedding ceremony. She was just a bride who was a bankrupt maiden from a once rich family, and the groom was a comatose, bedridden man who might never wake up. Their union might actually make them the "best" couple of the year, and the Andersons would never allow anyone to take them as the butt of a joke.
That was why there was no wedding ceremony, no specially decorated car, not even a wedding gown. Just like that, she was to be wedded into the Anderson family.
The ti gap between was only one night. The mont she entered the mansion again, she would gain a new status. If she had known, there would have been no need for all the fanfare yesterday. They could have just asked her to move in straight away.
Hilla Holt took the stone pavent route she was familiar with and entered the mansion. If there was sothing different about changing her identity, it was the assistance with her bag today. Soone helped her with her luggage and took them straight to the floor upstairs, leaving her with absolutely no room to escape.
"The bride is here."
Jubilant cheers of little children filled the mansion. Just as Hilla wanted to look into the living room and see, William Willford stopped behind her and said with a smile, "Your clothes are prepared upstairs. Miss Holt, perhaps you should go up and wash up first."
It was when he said this that Hilla suddenly rembered that she had spent the night in the campus dormitory without taking a bath since there was no water supply in the dormitory last night.
She bashfully nodded in agreent and followed the housemaids upstairs and into her room.
"The young master’s room is this way. Miss Holt, please."
The maid stood in front of the door and stopped. Hilla was mildly surprised as she stared at the half-opened door. Only then did she slowly push the door open.
The simple and quiet room was illuminated by a crystal chandelier. Grayscale was the the of the room, and everything and everywhere was oozing with a masculine, cold presence.
That was nowhere close to a room for newlyweds. In fact, it was more of a large icebox that was void of life.
She stopped in front of the bedroom door when she looked at the unfamiliar man laying still on a large, gray-colored bed...
The air seed to have beco cold due to the silence. Hilla looked at the unmoving man. Her breathing stopped for a beat.
Her luggage was placed next to the bed, and it stood out when it was parked alone in the middle of the overly large room.
The man on the bed was quiet as he was asleep. His pale and thin complexion gave away the long duration he spent on the bed.
She knew, in one look, that the man was Bruce Anderson. The man was her husband.
Hilla moved her feet. Her steps beca grave as she moved hesitantly forward. The more she walked, the more of his features she could see.
Even sick, the man was considered very handso. The pale complexion of the man accentuated the supple, red lips he had. Besides looking terribly thin, she could see that the Andersons had taken great care of the man.
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