"Elaine, since you don't know what's good for you, then stay in here and think about what you've done!"
He called his assistant over, his expression ice-cold.
"Get some people up here. Weld this door shut. Even if she's on her knees begging, don't let her out."
"I want to see just how stubborn she really is, and how long she can hold out."
He scooped Agatha into his arms and walked out of the room without looking back.
I hovered in midair, unable to stop the bitter laugh that escaped me.
Blake, I won't be begging you to let me out.
After all, in this weather, it wouldn't take long for my body to rot.
Blake carried Agatha straight home.
The entire drive, he was restless, kept glancing at his phone without thinking.
Every time before, after I'd been forced to give blood, I would call him the moment I regained consciousness. I'd tell him how much it hurt. I'd beg him to investigate what really happened all those years ago.
But this time, there was nothing. An eerie silence.
No missed calls. Not even a single text.
Agatha watched his distracted state, jealousy plain on her face.
"Blake, is Elaine still mad at you?"