I woke up the next day feeling tired and exhausted, the memories of the night before clinging to me like a damp fog that wouldn't lift. Rachel was already up, bustling around the room, her movements efficient and silent. She glanced at me when she heard me stir, a soft smile on her lips. "How are you?" she asked, her voice a balm to my frazzled nerves.
"I'm okay," I lied, sitting up slowly and swinging my legs over the side of the bed. My body felt bruised and sore, a constant reminder of the violation I'd barely escaped. Rachel handed me a cup of tea, the steam curling up like a gentle embrace. "Thank you," I murmured, taking a tentative sip. It was sweet and soothing, just what I needed.
"Well, I have good news, Emma," Rachel said, her eyes bright with something that looked like hope. "Mr. Harrison told me to tell you that you don't have to work today. He said you should rest."
I stared at her, my heart skipping a beat. "What?" I croaked. "But why?"
Rachel's smile grew a little wider, and she sat down on the bed next to me. "Because, sweetie, he knows what happened last night. And he doesn't want you to push yourself too hard."
I couldn't believe it. Mr. Harrison had noticed? He had cared enough to give me a day off? The thought was almost too much to process. "Now come on,I want you to smile Emma,You deserve it," Rachel said, her own smile growing. And for the first time in what felt like forever, I did smile. It was a small one, but it was genuine.
The rest of the day passed in a blur. Rachel brought me food and drinks, checking on me regularly, her eyes filled with a mix of concern and anger. She didn't say much, but her presence was a comfort, a reminder that I wasn't alone in this hellhole of a mansion. I spent most of the time lying in bed, my mind racing with thoughts of what had happened and what could happen next.
But eventually, the knock came. It was soft, almost tentative, as if the person on the other side didn't want to disturb me. Rachel looked at me with a question in her eyes, but I just nodded, my curiosity piqued. She opened the door to reveal Mrs luisana standing in the doorway, his expression readable.
Mr Harrison wants to see you emma. He told me to tell you it's important," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
My heart sank. What could he possibly want now? I had thought I was safe, but the mansion had a way of reminding me that I was never truly out of reach of its twisted games. Rachel gave me an encouraging nod, her eyes telling me she had my back no matter what.
I took a deep breath, steeling myself for whatever was to come. I stood up slowly, my legs wobbly with nerves. Rachel squeezed my hand one last time before I turned and walked out of the room, the door clicking shut behind me with a finality that felt like a prison door slamming shut.
The hallway was eerily quiet, the only sound the clack of my heels against the cold marble floor. I felt like I was walking towards my doom, but I knew I had to face Mr. Harrison. As much as I dreaded it, I needed to know what was going to happen next.
When I reached his room door, I took a deep breath and raised my hand to knock. It was only a gentle tap, but it echoed through the hallway like a gunshot. For a moment, I waited, my heart hammering in my chest. Then, a voice, deep and authoritative, called out, "Come in."
I pushed the heavy wooden door open and stepped inside. The room was dimly lit, the curtains drawn to keep out the harsh sunlight. Mr. Harrison was sitting at his desk, his back to me, the chair tall and imposing. He was dressed in a crisp white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing strong, tanned forearms. His hair was ruffled, as if he'd been running his hands through it in frustration or deep thought.
Before I could say anything, he turned his chair to face me, and in one swift motion, he closed the distance between us and wrapped his hands around my waist, pulling me closer until there was no space between us. His eyes searched my face, and his voice was low and intense. "How are you, Emma?"
I felt the warmth of his body against mine, the scent of his cologne wrapping around me like a comforting blanket. For a moment, I just stood there, too shocked to speak. Then, I managed a small nod. "I'm okay," I whispered, my voice barely audible.
Mr. Harrison's eyes searched mine, his grip tightening slightly. "You don't have to lie to me, Emma," he said, his voice filled with a tenderness that was at odds with the sternness of his usual demeanor. He carried me with strong arms towards his bed, laying me down gently, his touch surprisingly gentle for a man who had the power to crush me with a single word. "I know you're not okay. No one should have to go through what you did last night."
The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. Rachel had told me that Mr. Harrison had seen the bruises on my wrists, the marks from Miss Adrianne's cruel fingers. Rachel had told him everything, and now, he knew the truth. I felt a strange mix of fear and relief, knowing that he had intervened on my behalf.
He leaned over me, his eyes searching my face, his thumb brushing against my cheekbone. "Thank you, Mr. Harrison," I whispered, my voice trembling with emotion.
But he cut me off, his expression serious. "Emma," he said, his voice firm yet gentle. "You don't need to call me Mr. Harrison anymore. Just call me Harrison