Damien Sterling raised his hand in a gesture, "You can go rest."
Mrs. Harris hesitated, surprised.
Was the sir planning to take care of her personally?
Without further questioning, Mrs. Harris said, "Call me if you need anything."
Damien took the medicine from Mrs. Harris's hand and gently propped Emma Hart up on the bed.
Her consciousness was still clouded.
Her already slender face had grown thinner from the days of struggle against him, highlighting her prominent cheekbones.
Her eyelashes fluttered slightly, wet with tears, looking pitiful.
Why did he have to oppose her like this? If only she could be a bit softer, more compliant, he would have showered her with affection.
But she always seemed ungrateful, speaking another man's name even after being with him. Why?
A feeble voice came from Emma's lips.
