Leland Burns spoke in a low, hoarse voice, calmly analyzing the possibility he mentioned. The more he spoke, the more plausible it seemed.
Winifred Dawson was incredibly smart, and someone like her shouldn’t have died so early. He thought she might be hiding in some remote corner, living quietly. She could even disguise herself to avoid recognition.
Given Leland Burns’s current status, he couldn’t search for her openly, making her even bolder. Having cleverly avoided this accident and with her name on the list of the deceased, she might have faked her death and created a new identity.
Although Winifred Dawson hadn’t withdrawn all the money from her account, the jewelry she bought with what she did withdraw would be enough to do many things.
While Leland Burns was calmly analyzing alone, Henry listened quietly with a frown. He didn’t believe Leland Burns’s words. Such coincidences were rare, and Winifred Dawson didn’t seem clever enough to think of so many things.
Henry had only one thought: Leland Burns needed to give an accurate timeframe. They couldn’t keep searching indefinitely; he also had to accept that Winifred Dawson might be dead and move on quickly.
Seeing through Henry’s thoughts, Leland Burns said, “Three months-minimum one month, maximum three months. If we can’t find Winifred Dawson within that time, I’ll admit she’s dead.”
The word “admit” was easy to say but hard to do. The image of Leland Burns’s earlier madness lingered in Henry’s mind, terrifying him.
Henry felt that Leland Burns often changed his mind regarding anything about Winifred Dawson. His words were unreliable, and Henry’s trust in him was less than fifty percent.
“If we find nothing by then, can you really accept it?” Henry asked.
Leland Burns asked himself the same question. He wasn’t sure if he could fully accept it. Just thinking about it made his heart ache. He never imagined that one day Winifred Dawson would affect him so deeply, like poison seeping into his bones.
As Leland Burns fell silent, Henry and Wesley watched him nervously, waiting for his answer.
He thought seriously. “During the time you’re searching for her, I’ll slowly come to terms with her death.”
Time would be the best healer. He would gradually forget Winifred Dawson. Once he accepted her death, perhaps life would slowly improve.
Henry nodded. “We’ll search for her thoroughly in these three months.”
Wesley sighed. “Mr. Burns, you should take care of your hand injury first. I’ll find a doctor.”
“No need; I can handle it myself. Arrange for someone to take good care of Mrs. Protich,” Leland Burns said as he turned and went upstairs, locking himself in his bedroom.
It was the bedroom where he and Winifred Dawson had once slept. The blood on his hand had dried and coagulated; his ring finger was numb from pain, occasionally twitching and sending stabs of pain up to his heart.
Nothing in the bedroom had changed; it looked just as it did when Winifred Dawson lived there. On the bedside table was a birthday card she had written for him-now it seemed like a curse.
Happiness? He couldn’t feel happy anymore; even forcing a smile was difficult.
Alone, his emotions poured out uncontrollably. He didn’t even have the strength to vent his feelings; he sat dazed by the bed, holding a picture frame in his right hand.
Winifred Dawson wasn’t dead; she was just faking her death like he once did. She was probably hiding somewhere, laughing at having fooled him. If she saw him now, she’d likely mock him for being pathetic.
He truly felt pathetic.
Leland Burns denied caring about Winifred Dawson; he feared her death simply because it felt like a waste. She was his prey; killing or sparing her should have been his choice. Her sudden disappearance left a void in his heart-a normal reaction.
He refused to admit that his heart ached for her.
Thinking carefully… His feelings for Winifred Dawson were more out of habit. Knowing each other for so long made her like a thief who suddenly barged into his world and took many things away from him.
From childhood to adulthood, his only wish was to surpass Winifred Dawson-to make her obey him and regret what she had done before. He worked hard towards this goal and reached such heights. But now… with Winifred Dawson gone… Leland Burns felt empty as if something important was missing, leaving him without motivation or direction-no worldly desires left.
The feeling was like hanging on a cliff edge, climbing up with all your might only to have someone cut the rope when you were about to reach the top-plummeting into an abyss.
Winifred Dawson had been important to him; she was once his motivation.
He had loved her; she was his only woman for whom he paid a great price.
Leland Burns leaned back against the bed edge, staring blankly at the ceiling until tears unknowingly rolled down his cheeks.
If only people could deceive themselves into believing their own lies…
He wished it were all just a dream-but the pain in his ring finger grew sharper by the minute.
Such wounds weren’t severe for him; they would heal quickly even if left untreated.
Leland Burns thought he’d lose sleep over this but found himself drifting off while gazing at the night sky outside.
In his dream, he saw an ocean where Winifred Dawson wore a blue dress with a red camellia behind her ear as she walked deeper into the sea-her blue dress clinging tightly as if she were a mermaid.
He shouted at her not to go further but she couldn’t hear him-an invisible barrier separating them cruelly made reality indistinguishable from dreams-he ran into the sea after her splashing water everywhere-just when he almost grabbed her hand-it passed through thin air waking him up gasping drenched in cold sweat-
His finger throbbed painfully again under lamplight revealing fresh blood oozing from reopened wounds caused by clenching fists during nightmares reopening old scars anew…