“She’s out.”
“What’s the result?”
“He is Winifred Dawson.” Leland Burns said the three words “Winifred Dawson” with an unusual gentleness, a stark contrast to his typically somber demeanor.
Although he had anticipated such an outcome, Henry James was still taken aback upon confirmation.
It was unexpected that after disappearing for nine years, she would return so changed, even her face was different.
Why would Winifred Dawson undergo plastic surgery? No woman would intentionally make herself look worse, right? Was it perhaps to avoid Leland Burns?
But if she was avoiding him, why come back at all and stay close to Garrison Reeves, without even changing her name? Wouldn’t that leave clues?
Upon closer consideration, comparing the current Winifred Dawson with the past, who could recognize they were the same person? Only Leland Burns might suspect and recognize her.
The mysterious ways of fate made Henry James wonder if there was some kind of psychic connection between Leland Burns and Winifred Dawson, so no matter how Winifred changed, Leland could always recognize her instantly.
“So, what do we do now? Boss, are you going to take her back?”
The use of “take” was quite clever indeed; without taking action, Winifred Dawson wouldn’t stay by Leland Burns’ side.
“She has forgotten me…” Leland Burns didn’t know whether to be happy or sad.
“That’s a good thing,” Henry James hurriedly explained, seeing Leland’s distressed expression. “After all, you two had many unpleasant incidents; isn’t it better that she has forgotten them? It’s like meeting anew.” If Leland Burns acted positively now, he might win her back.
Leland Burns scoffed, “It’s not that easy.” He would like to meet Winifred Dawson anew, creating a beautiful encounter as Henry suggested, but given what had happened the previous night, it was far from beautiful.
Moreover, Winifred Dawson was still with Garrison Reeves, and judging by Garrison’s attitude towards her, they were likely already together.
How could he intervene between them and make Winifred Dawson look his way?
This situation seemed to have reverted to the beginning; he stood behind Winifred Dawson, waiting for her to turn around, while she only had eyes for Garrison Reeves.
He wanted Winifred Dawson to look his way; he would have to resort to some tactics.
Thinking this, Leland Burns clenched the necklace in his hand tightly.
This necklace must be important to Winifred Dawson; surely she would come to retrieve it?
“Can you find Winifred Dawson’s contact information?”
“Yes.”
“Give me her phone number.”
Seeing Leland Burns fiddling with the necklace, Henry James also guessed, “Mr. Burns, are you thinking of…”
“I won’t take action; this time, I’ll let her come to me on her own.”
As a child in winter, to catch a bird that couldn’t find food, one would scatter some rice on the ground and set up a trap using a cardboard box propped up with chopsticks. By simply pulling the string in his hand when the hungry bird ventured inside to eat, he could trap the free bird inside a cage.
No matter how much a bird yearned for freedom, the many temptations of the world always managed to bind it with invisible shackles.
Leland Burns remained the man who would use any means necessary to achieve his ends. He was adept at using everything around him as stepping stones to power. To maintain his position, he had employed numerous ruthless tactics.
Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to be too harsh on Winifred Dawson, perhaps fearing that being too severe would only push her further away.
There is a saying, “three strikes and you’re out.” Winifred Dawson had already left him twice, and he was determined not to give her a third chance.
Thus, he would proceed gradually and coax her gently.
…
Fever struck Winifred Dawson unexpectedly, leaving her lying in bed, her face pale yet unnaturally flushed, her brows furrowed, and her breaths hot and heavy.
She struggled to breathe and could only sleep on her side, curled up uncomfortably. She slept fitfully, plagued by nightmares of being chased by villains. The scenes in her dreams shifted rapidly; one moment she was running through the mountains, the next she was trapped in a dark room.
She couldn’t tell if it was reality or a dream, feeling as if she was reliving the previous night when she was painfully pinned down on the bed by a stranger.
Her slightly parted lips emitted a hoarse moan, her whole being dazed, as if floating on the sea, the world spinning around her. At some point, her throat felt as if it were on fire, and even swallowing saliva was painful.
Her dry throat was slightly congested, making her already difficult breathing even more suffocated.
Winifred Dawson didn’t know how long she had slept. After returning home last night, she had called Garrison Reeves and then drifted off into a heavy sleep, unable to open her eyes again.
Throughout the night, her phone rang several times with text notifications and an alarm set for seven in the morning. Winifred heard the sounds but lacked the strength to open her eyes or check her phone, letting the alarm sound over and over until it finally turned off automatically.