Escaping from under Liam Burkhart’s watchful eyes was nearly impossible. She clutched a key in her hand, using it as a makeshift weapon. She could feel Liam Burkhart’s fury. He was known for his vindictive nature, and provoking such a person was unwise. But she had no choice; she only regretted being drugged, which left her unable to fully control her body.
Her strength, judgment, and accuracy were all significantly impaired. If her hand had been steadier, stronger, and faster, and if she hadn’t been drugged, she might have been able to slit Liam Burkhart’s throat.
Unfortunately, she failed.
Now, there was no chance for redemption; all she could do was run. Winifred Dawson slowly moved to the edge of the bed, her eyes fixed on the door. She planned to rush out and call for help. There were surveillance cameras in the hallway; maybe someone outside would notice and come to her rescue.
With this thought, Winifred Dawson gripped the key tightly. The pain in her palm brought back a bit of clarity. Her feet wobbled as they touched the ground, but she staggered forward.
Despite the dizziness, Winifred Dawson managed to get off the bed and ran towards the door with all her might. Just as she was about to reach the doorknob, her long hair was yanked from behind. She screamed in pain as her neck snapped back, and she saw Liam Burkhart’s bloodied, terrifying face.
Liam Burkhart toyed with her like a cat with a mouse. He let her think she could escape only to drag her back at the last moment.
“Help-someone-”
“Stop shouting! This room is soundproofed; no one outside can hear you even if you scream your lungs out!”
Liam Burkhart dragged her back into the room by her hair. Winifred Dawson struggled fiercely until suddenly, she felt a tight grip around her throat.
Liam Burkhart’s bloody hand squeezed her neck with such force that it seemed he wanted to devour her with his eyes.
Winifred Dawson was desperate and confused. She tried to stab Liam Burkhart with the key again, but he anticipated this move.
Having already been hurt once by her, Liam Burkhart was now more cautious. He grabbed Winifred Dawson’s wrist tightly, causing her to drop the blood-stained key.
“Let me go… Liam Burkhart, let me go!” Winifred Dawson’s voice was almost hoarse.
Let go? There was no way he would let go now that he had her within his grasp. Besides, Winifred Dawson had scarred his face; he intended to make sure she paid for it dearly.
The smell of blood drove him mad. He grabbed Winifred Dawson’s arm and flung her aside.
In his rage-fueled strength, Winifred Dawson stumbled forward, losing balance and crashing into the edge of the bedside table with her stomach. The impact knocked over a lamp and phone that were on top of it.
Winifred Dawson screamed in pain and fell backward onto the floor. The suddenness of it all left no time for preparation.
After hitting the table with her stomach, she collapsed in agony onto the floor.
Her hands pressed against the ground felt sticky and painful. Her entire body seemed shattered as waves of pain radiated through her brain. She couldn’t pinpoint where it hurt most; it all blended into an overwhelming agony.
Her hands felt wet and uncomfortable. When she lifted them, she saw a mix of blood and wine from a broken glass that Liam Burkhart had dropped earlier after being cut by her.
The liquid on her palms was a mixture of blood and wine. Additionally, a dull pain spread from her lower abdomen as a warm flow trickled down between her legs.
Sweat broke out on her forehead as she bit down hard but still couldn’t suppress a moan of pain.
“Ugh…” Blood seeped from beneath her dress-a simple dress chosen for easy removal during an examination.
Now stained with blood, it stood out starkly against the fabric. The metallic scent filled her nostrils.
“The baby…” Winifred Dawson muttered instinctively as tears rolled down uncontrollably.
Her voice was hoarse and faint. Not far away, Liam Burkhart saw her lips move but couldn’t hear what she said or understand it.
Seeing her pale face did startle him for a moment before he regained composure. He wouldn’t pity Winifred Dawson; he knew how good an actress she could be-she had even fooled Leland Burns for months by pretending to be mentally impaired.
Winifred Dawson’s display of pain must be fake; how could it compare to his own? His face bore a scar from where she’d cut him-a disfigurement-while she’d merely been thrown down by him.
“Winifred Dawson,” Liam Burkhart warned with a frown, “I told you not to provoke me. I wanted to be gentle with you initially, but you just had to push my buttons. Now I can’t bring myself to feel any pity for you.”
“Stop pretending! You’d better get up yourself and take off your clothes now! If you don’t want to do it voluntarily,” he sneered maliciously, “I’ll tear your dress into shreds and tie your hands and feet to the bedposts.”
As Liam Burkhart’s menacing words filled the room with tension, there came a knock on the door outside that interrupted him. Covering his face with a towel soaked in blood, he decided he needed medical attention first before dealing with Winifred Dawson later.
The knocking grew louder; Liam Burkhart assumed it must be one of his bodyguards returning from an errand he’d sent them on earlier.
Annoyed by their impatience, he decided to leave briefly for medical help while ensuring someone kept an eye on Winifred Dawson inside.
Holding his wound tightly against occasional stabs of pain that made him gasp sharply through gritted teeth,
He hoped fervently that his injury wasn’t severe enough to leave permanent scars-he couldn’t bear having people ask how he’d gotten such an embarrassing mark from being attacked by a woman every time they saw him.