Winifred Dawson felt a chill run down her spine. It was as if an invisible hand had gripped her throat tightly, leaving her unable to breathe. Her stomach twisted in knots, the familiar nausea creeping in-a reaction she always had when she was nervous. It took her a long time to suppress the urge to retch.
The tea and snacks placed before them remained untouched by Leland Burns. After Winifred had nibbled on a bit, Leland ordered the leftovers to be taken away.
He still hadn’t told her to leave, and Winifred didn’t dare to ask. She could only sit there stiffly, her body tense with unease.
“Tell me,” Leland finally said, his tone calm yet commanding. “Where have you and Garrison Reeves been living all these years? What’s happened?”
Winifred straightened in her seat. After his reminder earlier, she didn’t dare lie to him. Stammering, she recounted her years in Bankshire, the cosmetic surgeries she had undergone, and how she had changed herself from head to toe.
These were things he could easily verify. He only wanted to see if she would lie to him.
“Why did you have cosmetic surgery?”
Winifred’s voice was flat as she answered, “I was disfigured.”
Leland’s expression stiffened. His investigation into her past had been limited-after all, five years had passed, and it would take two more days for the full report from Bankshire to reach him. But hearing Winifred admit that she had been disfigured was still difficult for him to process. He had considered this possibility, but having her confirm it left him momentarily at a loss.
He knew how much Winifred had once cared about her face. It had been her greatest weapon, a source of power she wielded unapologetically. To hear her speak so indifferently about such a devastating experience made him wonder just how much she had endured over the past decade-from being disfigured to undergoing surgery and convincing herself, time and again, to move forward.
Leland’s gaze lingered on her face. Noticing this, Winifred grew uncomfortable. She had never liked people staring at her so intently, especially since her surgeries. It made her self-conscious, as if the scars left by the procedures were on full display. She instinctively lowered her head, grateful that her hair, left loose today, could shield her face.
Leland finally looked away. “I thought Garrison Reeves forced you to get surgery to keep anyone from recognizing you.”
“No, Garrison Reeves isn’t that kind of person.” Garrison had never forced her to do anything she didn’t want to do.
The truth was, her decision to get surgery had another reason. Garrison had warned her about a dangerous enemy, someone she couldn’t afford to be recognized by. But Leland didn’t press for details, and Winifred didn’t volunteer them. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either.
As she sat lost in thought, a hand suddenly reached out toward her, startling her so much that she instinctively shifted to the side. But she was already perched on the edge of the sofa, and there was nowhere else to go. Just as she was about to fall, a strong arm caught her, pulling her upright.
Leland’s fingers brushed her face. “Where exactly were you injured?”
Winifred froze at the unexpected closeness. His touch was cold, his fingertips tracing her skin lightly. She wanted to pull away but couldn’t move, too afraid to resist. Her hands fumbled nervously, trying to deflect his attention. Pointing to her left cheek, she said awkwardly, “There was a scar here. It was long and ugly. After the surgery, I look much better.”
Even now, Winifred couldn’t understand why Leland was so interested in her. She was nothing more than a patchwork of surgeries, her face reconstructed with a surgeon’s knife. From head to toe, nothing about her was real. Her voice was unpleasant, her movements clumsy, and before the surgeries, she had been downright hideous.
Leland studied the faint trace of a scar on her left cheek, his gaze lingering. Though it had mostly faded, he could imagine just how deep it must have been.
Finally, he withdrew his hand and said, “You can go now. Once we return to the country, I’ll arrange for you to stay with me.”
Winifred’s heart sank at his words. She’d rather never return if it meant staying with him. But that wasn’t an option.
Hearing that she was allowed to leave, Winifred visibly relaxed. She stood up quickly, eager to get away. Just as she was about to step out, Leland rose as well.
“Winifred Dawson,” he called after her. “I’m letting you go so easily. Don’t you think you owe me something?”
Winifred froze in place. The man who had caused her so much pain now stood before her, acting as if he were doing her a great favor. Gritting her teeth, she suppressed the anger bubbling inside her. She bent slightly at the waist and said with mock sincerity, “Mr. Burns, thank you for your generosity.”
Her tone was biting, laced with sarcasm, but Leland didn’t seem to care.
“When you return, stay away from Garrison Reeves. Don’t let him touch you. I don’t like sharing.”
“Yes,” she replied tersely. It was only for a hundred days. She could endure it.
“Can I leave now?”
“I’ll have someone take you back.”
Winifred shook her head quickly. “That won’t be necessary. There are plenty of taxis outside the hotel. I can get one myself. No need to trouble you.”
Leland simply nodded in acknowledgment.
She hesitated for a moment by the door, making sure he wouldn’t stop her. When it was clear he wouldn’t, she turned the handle, opened the door, and bolted out. The quiet hallway echoed with the sound of her hurried footsteps. Once inside the elevator, she pressed the button for the first floor and leaned against the wall, finally letting herself breathe.
This encounter had gone much easier than she had anticipated. She’d thought it would be a life-or-death ordeal, a visit to the gates of hell. But Leland Burns had let her go so easily.
Still, there was something about him that felt hauntingly familiar.