Chapter 4

I shook my head frantically, tears streaming uncontrollably.

"I checked the study door lock. There are new scratches on it."

Christian sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out to caress my face.

"Why aren't you obedient?"

I trembled with fear. "Christian, I really didn't. I just went to the bathroom."

"Stop pretending."

He suddenly ripped off the covers, grabbed my ankle, and dragged me to the edge of the bed.

"The mud on the bottom of your feet isn't wiped clean. There are your footprints on the study floor."

My entire body went stiff, unable to speak.

Christian raised the syringe, pushed it, and liquid sprayed from the needle's tip.

"I originally wanted to let you live for another three months, but you're not behaving."

He smiled. "Tonight, it ends."

The moment the needle pierced my skin, I lifted my foot and kicked him in the chest.

Christian hadn't expected me to still have the strength to resist.

He fell backward, and the syringe flew out of his hand.

I rolled off the bed, scrambling towards the door.

Before I could run two steps, he grabbed my hair from behind.

"Do you think you can escape?"

He dragged me back, slamming me onto the bed, his knee pressing down on my legs.

The pain made my vision go black, but I gritted my teeth and forced out the words.

"Christian, if you kill me, the police will find out!"

"Find out?" He scoffed, glancing at me.

"You have retrograde amnesia; everyone knows that."

"You forget everything every day. When you have an episode, you self-harm and attempt suicide."

"Tonight, you had an episode and injected yourself with an overdose of medication. What does that have to do with me?"

He leaned down, close to my face.

"Cowell will testify for me, saying your condition had already reached an uncontrollable level."

"Do you think anyone will suspect me?"

Christian released my hair, getting up to pick up another spare syringe from the floor.

In that split second, I fiercely pulled out the phone I had hidden under my pillow.

The screen was lit, on a call, the number was 911.

I held up the phone, my voice trembling.

"Christian, you've been talking for three minutes. The operator heard everything."

He froze, his face instantly turning ashen.

Outside the door, an urgent knocking suddenly sounded. "Open up, police!"

Christian looked at me, then let out a cold laugh.

"Price, when did you recover your memory?"

I didn't answer. I just clutched the phone, shouting with all my might towards the door.

"Help me!"

The door was crashed open. Two uniformed police officers rushed in, followed by someone holding a body camera.

Christian took a step back, a smile quickly plastered on his face.

"Officers, it's all a misunderstanding. My wife is sick; she was having an episode just now."

The leading officer raised a hand to interrupt him.

"Mr. Christian, we have recorded everything you just said."

"Now, please come with us."

Christian's smile froze on his face. He turned to look at me, a cold smirk on his lips.

The police handcuffed him and escorted him out.

As he passed me, he suddenly stopped.

He turned his head, and in a voice only I could hear, said.

"Price, do you think this is over?"

"Don't forget, Cowell is still out there."

I suddenly looked up. At the end of the hallway, Cowell stood in the darkness, holding a scalpel.

She smiled at me, then disappeared down the staircase.

The police chased after her, but I heard a flurry of urgent footsteps downstairs. Then, everything fell silent.

I collapsed onto the floor, trembling uncontrollably.

My phone suddenly rang again. A text message came from an unknown number, just one line.

"Price, we're not done yet."