“Is he sick?” Knowing that Leland has always been in good health and rarely falls ill, Winifred was surprised to hear that he was feeling unwell.
“I’ll go check on him.” With that, Winifred headed upstairs and arrived at Leland’s room without knocking, pushing the door open. It was pitch black inside, so she turned on the light.
Leland lay on the bed, looking as though he was asleep, his face flushed red, undoubtedly running a fever.
“Leland.”
Night fell, and the moon hung high outside the window. Before Winifred appeared, the room was shrouded in darkness, resembling a tomb.
Leland was indeed sick. Seeing Winifred now felt almost hallucinatory, with a touch of unreality.
What time is it now?
“You’re back?”
Winifred stood by the bed and said, “Mr. Hamilton said you’re not feeling well. I came to check on you. Are you running a fever?”
Winifred placed her hand on his forehead, confirming the heat. “I have some fever medicine. I’ll go get it for you.”
As she turned to leave, his cold hand reached out and held hers. Winifred’s touch on his forehead was so comforting that he didn’t want her to leave. When she pulled away, he instinctively reached out to grasp her hand.
Winifred turned to face him and struggled but didn’t break free. His intense gaze made her uneasy.
“Let go.”
Leland pursed his lips and eventually released her, his voice hoarse. “No need for medicine. I’ll be fine after a good night’s sleep. Taking medicine will only weaken my immune system.”
Since he insisted, Winifred didn’t fetch the medicine. She recalled Garrison’s words in the car, and now, alone with Leland in a room with his piercing gaze, she felt a sudden unease.
“Leland, I spare you.”
Leland was stunned. “What do you mean?”
Her sudden statement left him bewildered, and in the face of Winifred’s solemn silence, he felt a sense of panic. The redness in his eyes deepened.
“I have given you a lot of money over the years, and you haven’t spent much. You’ve probably saved quite a bit.”
Initially, they agreed on five hundred a day, but Winifred would occasionally reward him with two to three thousand a day, or even as much as ten thousand. The Dawson family was never short of money. Having lived with the Dawsons for eight years, Leland, who never left, had accumulated a substantial sum. In addition, he had discreetly invested in a few stocks in recent years, making a substantial profit.
“So, you don’t need me anymore, right?” He appeared pitiful, like a begging dog.
Winifred averted her gaze. “I’ve decided where to go after the college entrance exam. I plan to go abroad. As for you, you can choose any school, any subject you want to study. You’re free.”
Free? How ridiculous.
This person had trained a wolf to be a dog. Now, he was asked to return to the deep forest as a wolf. Could a wolf, previously trained as a dog, survive?
Was this what Winifred called freedom?
She had tied his heart with a chain, making him love her, making her the sole existence in his eyes. She lured him step by step, haunting his dreams, making his heart beat for her.
But…
Winifred never liked him. She only regarded him as a substitute, a plaything in her spare time. She deftly controlled him with ambiguity, keeping him in an inescapable circle of intrigue. She was truly malicious, exploiting his love for her.
Leland lowered his gaze. “Does Mr. Dawson know you’re going abroad?”
“No, I’m leaving to get away from him.”
“Are you going abroad with Garrison?”
“Yes.”
Leland chuckled. He had presented the fake DNA test results to ensure that Winifred would have only him in the future. He had been with her the longest, the one she trusted the most. After Gregory was gone, the two of them could rely on each other.
But he hadn’t expected Winifred to only sterilize Gregory and spared his life.
Now she was leaving with Garrison.
Why?
Garrison had left when she was nine, and Leland had been there for her for the past eight years. Why did she believe in being with Garrison rather than with him?
“I understand now. When do you plan to leave?”
“I haven’t decided.”
There was silence in the room, neither speaking. The space was unusually quiet, and Winifred felt a sense of unease. She could have said less to Leland, could have just left without caring about his feelings.
But closure was needed in all matters. After speaking her mind, she felt a sense of relief.
“Since you’re fine, I’ll leave now.” This time, Winifred turned and Leland didn’t try to stop her.
Half-supporting himself, Leland watched Winifred walk further away. She left his room, leaving his world behind.
Leland harbored intense hatred now, reminiscent of the hatred he felt when his mother died eight years ago. His hatred towards Winifred made him want to kill her but also made him unable to do so. There was only one thought in his mind.
Love that comes too easily is cheap. He wanted to plunder her, make Winifred regret.
To him, Winifred was like a summer fan that was discarded in winter, forgotten when not needed.
Leland refused to accept this fate. He wanted Winifred to remember him, to never forget him.
Tonight, Winifred didn’t go to deliver milk to Gregory. It had been nearly two weeks since she last went. The medication should have taken effect by now, and Gregory hadn’t been himself lately, not going out to find women during the day.
After leaving Leland’s room, she went straight back to her own room, taking a sketchbook from the shelf. She flipped through each page of the sketches she had made over the years.
Turning to the last page, it was a recent sketch of Leland. He had even asked recently if she could give it to him on his birthday.
She pulled out the sketch, took a brush, and added the final touches to his features. This was Leland.
Her skills in sketching were exceptional. The person in the sketch bore a striking resemblance to him. Although she had drawn Leland’s face many times over the years, none had captured his essence like this one.
Time passed quickly as she meticulously outlined the sketch. Seeing the complete portrait, she felt that something was different.
She noticed a red mole above the left eye and, with a stroke of the brush, covered it up, replacing it with a small scar.
In the sketch, Leland wore his school uniform, reading a book while sitting by the window, bathed in sunlight. A bright red rose sat on the table.