Chapter 19 Kneel
Aurora gazed intently at Camille, her voice trembling slightly
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as she spoke. “Camille, it’s Aurora. You hate me so much, but surely you must recognize my voice by now. I’ve heard that some coma patients retain consciousness. Are you one of them? If so, when will you finally wake up?”
Her words tumbled out endlessly, yet the figure on the bed remained utterly unresponsive.
The hospital room was permeated with the pungent smell of disinfectant, while the gleaming white walls and sheets only accentuated Camille’s frail appearance, making her seem even more vulnerable.
Aurora slowly took a seat beside the bed, her eyes never leaving Camille’s pale, unmoving face.
“Do you realize,” she began, her voice tinged with sadness, “that everyone believes I harmed you? But I’m innocent, Camille, and you know it better than anyone.
“You’ve been in a coma for five long years, and I’ve spent those same five years in prison–a scapegoat for Bertha.
“You can’t imagine the torment of prison life. They subjected me to needles, and beatings, and even took one of my kidneys… All at the hands of your brother, seeking revenge on your behalf.”
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Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the curtains, casting dappled shadows on the floor, yet it failed to dispel the oppressive gloom that enveloped the room.
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Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Aurora fought back her tears as she continued, “I recall our first meeting vividly. You smiled so brightly, like a princess. I envied you then for your loving family, wealthy lifestyle, and numerous friends. Even after returning to the Elvador family, I always felt like an outsider. Now, I’m reviled as a criminal, yet it was Bertha who hurt you, not me…”
Overwhelmed by grief, her tears flowed freely once more.
She reached up to wipe them away, oblivious to the subtle movement of Camille’s eyeballs.
After her tears subsided, Aurora rose to her feet, her voice quivering as she said, “Camille, you must get better soon. I’m leaving now, but I’ll visit again when I can.”
As she stepped out of the hospital room, Aurora’s gaze met a pair of piercing eyes.
The man before her was dressed in a sleek black suit, his posture erect and imposing. His broad shoulders and narrow waist formed a perfect silhouette, while his sculpted features were marred by cold, harsh lines. His eyes were as deep and mysterious as a dark night, his lips tightly pressed together, and his jaw tense. An aura of coldness emanated from him, chilling the air around him.
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At the sight of him, Aurora began to shake uncontrollably. Her legs felt weak, and every muscle in her body tightened with fear. She trembled violently, her heart pounding in her chest as if it would burst through her ribs, causing her to breathe rapidly.
With each steady, oppressive step he took toward her, Aurora retreated, her back hitting the hospital room door with a dull. thud.
The man’s gaze was fixed firmly on Aurora, making her feel like a helpless prey cornered by a relentless hunter, trapped under his icy stare with no escape in sight.
Under his relentless pursuit, Aurora was eventually cornered back into the hospital room.
His towering presence seemed to overshadow her completely, and the air inside the room seemed to congeal at that moment. Aurora’s erratic breathing stood out prominently in the stifling silence that enveloped the space.
Pressed against the hospital bed, Aurora found herself with no
room to retreat.
“M–Mr. Sherwood…” she stammered.
Adolph’s brow furrowed as he spoke in a low, chilling, and oppressive tone, “Are you afraid of me?”
Confronted with the greatest fear of her life, Aurora cast her gaze downward and refrained from even the slightest heavy breath.
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She had endured all of his retaliatory tactics in prison, which had stripped her of her dignity, plunged her into despair, and yet kept her alive in a state of torment.
When confronted with members of the Elvador family, she could summon the courage to resist.
But when facing Adolph, all her courage melted away, leaving only fear to fill her mind.
With a look of panic in her eyes, Aurora clung tightly to the corners of her clothes, her knuckles turning white under the force of her grip.
“Mr. Sherwood, I’ve already made it clear to Ms. Sherwood. Can I….. please leave now?” Aurora’s voice was hurried and trembling, her tone wavering due to extreme fear.
She dared not lift her gaze to meet Adolph’s piercing eyes, but she could feel his cold indifference.
He tilted his head slightly as if looking down upon her with disdain, like an insignificant ant beneath his boot.
“Do you think this is enough?”
He sneered, “Your father promised me that you’d apologize to Camille until I am satisfied.”
Aurora’s face blanched instantly. She looked up at Adolph abruptly but quickly lowered her head again under his intense
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gaze.
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The various humiliations and sufferings she had endured in prison raced through her mind like a kaleidoscope of torment. Those painful days made her instinctively want to crawl to his feet and beg for forgiveness.
Adolph took a step forward, and the oppressive aura that emanated from him intensified, like a snow–capped mountain on the brink of collapse, suffocating everyone within its vicinity.
“What, you’re unwilling? Or do you think five years in prison is adequate repayment for your debt to Camille?” he demanded.
Aurora’s body shook violently, like leaves caught in a fierce gale.
She longed to flee, but her legs felt glued to the ground, immovable.
She wanted to explain but knew it would be futile. She had already tried five years ago, and he hadn’t believed a single word. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have orchestrated her “special attention” in prison.
Her fear of him ran deep, embedded in her soul.
Aurora’s knees buckled, and she sank to her knees.
“I’m guilty. I’ll do whatever you ask of me, Mr. Sherwood. Please forgive me,” she pleaded. Then, she bowed and her head struck the bed with a dull, resonant thud, repeated again and again, each time seeming to drain her of all her strength.
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To survive, she had already forfeited her dignity.
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Adolph watched in silence, but his mood did not improve with Aurora’s submission; instead, it intensified.
This was the scene he had anticipated, yet now that he beheld it, there was no satisfaction, only an inexplicable irritation that gnawed at him.
Aurora’s forehead was split open, and crimson blood flowed freely, cascading down her cheeks and splattering onto the pristine floor, creating a stark, glaring patch of red.
Yet she appeared numb to the pain, her movements mechanical as she bowed, her lips constantly chanting, “I’m guilty, I was wrong. Please, Mr. Sherwood, spare me.”
Each word was punctuated by the thud of her forehead against the bed.
Adolph’s fists tightened, his eyes stormy.
Unbeknownst to him, as Aurora begged forgiveness, Camille on the bed flickered her eyelids several times, and a single, crystal–clear tear trickled down from the corner of her eye, disappearing into the pillowcase.