The sound of the door opening came from outside. Winifred thought it was the maid returning, so she quickly put down her dress and went out. As soon as she stepped out of the bathroom, she felt a piercing gaze. This intimidating presence was definitely not the maid.
Somehow, even with her eyes closed and her vision gone, she could still sense Leland’s presence. She could even identify him just by his footsteps.
“The maid said you just got up. It seems you slept well last night. If my method works, you should do this whenever you have insomnia instead of taking those pills.”
“If I don’t take the pills, I might die even faster.”
Leland couldn’t stand hearing her talk about death so casually. He frowned deeply, his eyes darkening. He was a year older than Winifred but far more mature in his actions than his peers.
At 19, dressed in a black suit, he had rapidly pushed his career to its peak through decisive means. He then acquired the Dawson family business, becoming an almost mythical figure in Peachshire Town.
For nearly 30 years, no one had surpassed Leland’s achievements.
He mingled daily in various trading circles. Neither partners nor rivals dared to underestimate him because of his age; sometimes they even forgot he was still under 20.
To those old foxes, he was like their children in age. The effort he had to put in to gain respect and intimidate them was unimaginable.
“As long as I’m here, you won’t die prematurely.” His words sounded comforting but quickly took a darker turn. “Even if you die, I’ll go before you and drag you with me into the crematorium. We’ll be burned to ashes together and buried together.”
With each “together,” he stepped closer to Winifred.
These were supposed to be sweet words, but as they came from Leland’s mouth, they carried a chilling weight that made Winifred curse him silently as a madman.
When he finally stood before her, she lifted her face, exposing her slender neck. The maid had prepared a white lace nightgown for her. The neckline revealed many kiss marks on her neck-ambiguous, seductive, yet frightening.
“Leland, your skills are terrible. I don’t like it at all. I didn’t sleep well; I passed out from pain. If you’d like to try it yourself, I can give you a club to feel it. Do you know that such marks on the neck can cause death?”
No man could tolerate being told he was bad at something that concerned his pride.
Ignoring his darkening expression, Winifred mocked him further: “After all, it’s not your life at stake; you don’t feel the pain. Naturally, you can do whatever you want. If you’re so eager to die before me, why don’t you go ahead and die now?”
“You think my skills are bad?”
He always focused on the key points. Winifred almost lost her composure; this man was arrogant even in this aspect.
“Do you think your skills are good? Didn’t you hear me say it hurt? Didn’t I ask you to stop? Leland, can’t you have some self-awareness and face your problems?” Her face showed anger, and tears welled up in her eyes, making her look pitifully endearing.
Winifred had no idea how much Leland liked her angry look. It was like having a high-and-mighty cat at home; despite its aloofness, one couldn’t help but want to get closer and hope it would extend its paw.
Leland’s face darkened: “I’m sorry; I don’t have much experience…”
“What’s done is done; there’s no need for apologies.” Winifred turned her face away from him.
“Apologies must be made; otherwise, how will you know what I’m thinking or what I’ll do next?” Leland placed his hand on Winifred’s shoulder and gently squeezed.
Winifred felt uneasy and tried to shake him off but couldn’t. She wore a sullen expression as Leland suddenly leaned close to her face, only three or four centimeters away from her eyes. This proximity allowed them to feel each other’s breath and exerted an intimidating pressure that made one tense up defensively.
“When you make a mistake on a problem, you correct it. If you still can’t get it right, practice more until you’re proficient. Even a three-year-old understands this principle. Do you understand it, Miss?”
Whenever Leland called her “Miss,” it meant trouble.
The Dawson family was gone; Gregory was dead. Without anyone to protect her-no father or mother-she was no longer the proud young lady of the Dawson family.
Every time Leland called her “Miss,” she felt he was mocking her. And he loved calling her that during intimate moments-on the bed, in whispered breaths between kisses… He loved calling her “Miss.”
Perhaps it gave him an extreme sense of satisfaction like a lion conquering its mate in the wild.
“I don’t understand and don’t want to.” Winifred tried to step back but was pulled into Leland’s embrace. His left hand held the back of her head firmly.
In an intimate tone, he said: “You say my skills are bad; I’ll practice more until I’m good at it. If I don’t know something, you’ll teach me patiently, okay?”
“No…” Winifred grew anxious. “Leland, I’m hurting; I don’t want to discuss this now or learn anything.”
Leland laughed and pinched her nose: “You dare to speak but not act? Winifred, do you have such timid moments? I’m not teasing you anymore; the cook has prepared food downstairs. Let’s go eat. I won’t touch you for the next few days since you’re unwell but promise me not to take those pills again. If you can’t sleep, get up and exercise.”
Seeing Winifred glaring at him angrily made Leland laugh: “What are you thinking? I meant normal aerobic exercises like running or jumping jacks.”
“I’m not thinking anything.”
“Fine, it’s my fault for thinking too much.” Clearly in a good mood today-perhaps something good happened at work-Leland didn’t get angry at Winifred’s tantrums and even patiently coaxed her.
“When your neck heals, I’ll take you out to meet people.”