Chapter 21
The room’s wallpaper sported dark patterns, and the warm light wasn’t doing it any favors. Outside, the sky was a blanket of ominous clouds, the aftermath of the rain leaving the time indistinguishable.
Elizabeth knew she hadn’t slipped away. Her eyes landed on a sharp line dividing black and white: Franklin’s shirttail, white against his black belt, creased as he leaned forward to say, “You’re awake.”
The stuffy room carried his voice straight to her ears. She turned her head and closed her eyes, seeking refuge from the sight.
Suddenly, her hand was lifted, and the icy needlepoint was pressed against her hand, about to pierce through. But Elizabeth reacted like a startled deer, jolting upright and swiping the needle away in a panic.
Caught off guard by her sudden defiance, Franklin’s hand swiftly changed course. Before he realized it, the needle had glided toward his chin, promptly drawing blood droplets. He furrowed his brow from the pain.
Franklin dropped the needle, his hand flying to his chin. He wanted to reprimand her, but as he glanced down, he caught a glimpse of tears shimmering in her eyes.
Her pale and haggard face softened his heart. In a softer tone, he explained, “It’s a nutrient fix. This is not about a blood draw.”
The clear liquid in the IV bag and the absence of medical equipment around assured her that he wasn’t going to draw her blood.
Even though Elizabeth’s heartbeat settled, she still eyed Franklin with caution. “How did I end up here?”
He turned, a wry smile on his lips as he wiped the blood from his chin with a tissue. “We’re still married on paper. Where else would you be?”
She wrapped herself in blankets and huddled at the head of the bed. “I want to go home.”
“This is your home,” Franklin said.
The blood just wouldn’t stop, soaking through the tissue paper.
The delayed pain etched lines on his face as he spoke, “Rest. The housekeeper will look after you. You won’t be disturbed by Sharon or Yvonne.”
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Chapter 21
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‘What’s this about? Making up for the blood they drew from me? To him, it was a trade, a fair exchange, Elizabeth sneered inwardly.
In Franklin’s eyes, she should just obediently accept his kindness. But she didn’t want it.
Her feet peeked out from the cozy blankets, landing on the cold floor. Feeling the chill, her heart sank. After she stepped off the bed, she finally realized she was in different clothes from yesterday. Clutching at the neckline, she gazed at Franklin’s refined profile. “Who changed my clothes?”
Franklin
put away the pill bottles on the desk and looked at her as if she’d asked the most obvious question. “Who else could it be?”
“You did it?” Elizabeth asked.
“Of course,” replied Franklin.
She began breathing heavily. Sensing her unease, Franklin paused in his movements. Then he smiled and said casually, “I’m your husband. What’s wrong with me changing your clothes?”
His words really pissed her off.
With her cheeks flushing, Elizabeth stood barefoot on the floor, and her delicate ankles seemed fragile. Tears welled up in her eyes. She sniffed and cried out, her voice filled with resolve, “I want to go home!”
After finishing her words, she chose to ignore the crease forming on Franklin’s forehead.
Leaving the place had become her only reason to hold on. She turned, finding her waist tightly embraced. The tight grip almost left her breathless. Then she was suddenly shoved into the messy bed.
His fingers lifted her chin, his touch firm. “You were the one who fought to be my wife. Regrets now, Elizabeth? It doesn’t work that
way.”
Tears trickled into her hair.
Her scream, sharp and sudden, shattered the quiet, alerting those below to the turmoil above.
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