Filed to story: Seventeen Heartbreaks: When Love Has No Voice
“Is it that hot? Oh my, someone check if it burned my skin.”
A servant lifted Leila’s skirt and found a large patch of her skin had turned red, clearly indicating a burn.
The stark contrast against Leila’s delicate skin was both striking and alarming.
Leila barely showed any sign of pain and just frowned.
“This looks so bad. Will my legs be scarred? What should I do now?”
Florrie breathed a sigh of relief, confirming that Leila’s legs were really unable to move.
However, Florrie failed to notice the intense pain Leila was hiding. Cold sweat soaked Leila’s back from the effort of enduring it. Leila’s resilience had been forged through the hardships she had gone through. Her endurance level was above that of an average human. Only then did Florrie begin to fear that Leila might report the incident to Gracelyn.
In a desperate move, Florrie knelt before Leila and started slapping herself.
“Miss Nixon, this is all my fault. Please, I’m begging you, don’t tell Mrs. White. I’d be ruined if she found out.”
Internally, Leila sneered at the display. Despite understanding the potential consequences, Florrie still chose to act this way. It was only right for Florrie to face the repercussions.
With a fake smile, Leila faced Florrie.
“You’ve burned me like this. Why should I just forgive you? Does my inability to feel pain and my paralysis mean you can treat me this way?”
Florrie gritted her teeth.
“Miss Nixon, just tell me what you want. I’ll do anything to make things right and calm your anger.”
Leila arched an eyebrow and intentionally wore a malicious look.
“Anything?”
Florrie nodded reluctantly, though resentment began to brew inside her. She assumed Leila might leverage this incident to get closer to Calvert.
However, Leila took an unexpected route.
“Why don’t you experience the same suffering I’ve gone through?”
Leila gestured toward the pot of medicine sitting nearby.
Florrie understood Leila’s intention right away. Naturally, she was not willing to go through the suffering, so she brought up Calvert, smiling ingratiatingly.
“Miss Nixon, how about this? I’ll get Dr. Watson to examine you. You trust his medical expertise more than anyone’s, don’t you? He might even prevent your legs from scarring. Please, calm down for his sake.”
Leila nearly let out a derisive laugh. For Calvert’s sake? Did Florrie really think he was that important to her? How delusional.
While tempted to retort, Leila restrained herself, offering Florrie nothing more than a patronizing smile.
“You keep such a watchful eye on him that I almost thought you truly cared for him, but it seems I was mistaken.”
Florrie, stung by Leila’s statement, was left speechless and could only clench her teeth in humiliation.
“What’s the point of me calling him here? I want you to feel the same pain I did,” Leila declared, adopting an outraged look.
“Why should Dr. Watson take the fall for your mistake?”
Leila’s words were flawless, giving Florrie no room to argue. Florrie merely nodded, her face turning pale.
“Miss Nixon, please don’t be upset. I will do as you say.”
Florrie then moved to the medicine pot, her hands trembling as she picked it up. Her expression was one of despair.
However, when a bit of the scalding liquid splattered on her legs, Florrie yelped in agony and called out to Leila, “Miss Nixon, will this…”
Leila said nothing and just gestured toward her own burnt legs. Clearly, it wasn’t enough. The burn on her legs was significantly worse than Florrie’s. What right did Florrie have to ask her that question? Despite her growing resentment, Florrie clenched her teeth and doused her legs with a generous amount of the liquid.
Florrie almost toppled over as her legs shook under her.
The surrounding servants watched silently, none willing to defend Florrie. It was, after all, Florrie’s fault. In the meantime, their respect for Leila grew. Though she appeared laid-back, she would not let anyone who had wronged her get away unpunished.
Every servant silently agreed that messing with Leila was a bad idea. It was an unspoken truth.
Leila watched Florrie writhe in pain, a satisfied smile spreading across her face.
To twist the knife, Leila said sharply, “If you’re going to scream, do it somewhere else. I don’t want to hear it.”
Florrie, defeated, could only slink out of the room.
Leila looked around the room, her expression suddenly irritated.
“Free of you, get out! You’re getting on my nerves,” she snapped.
The servants scurried out, some casting curious glances back at Leila. When they saw Leila staring at the burn on her legs and sighing, they finally let go of any suspicion they had harbored.
Once she was alone, Leila frowned. It really hurt like hell. If she had held on for even a minute longer, she would have completely lost it. Florrie had been ruthless, the whole bowl of boiling medical concoction poured on Leila’s legs.
Therefore, Leila’s earlier punishment had been real, not just for show. Thank God she had passed this test and dispelled Florrie’s suspicion, or she might have faced the prospect of Florrie testing her more dramatically next time.
Leila had a small first-aid kit in her room. She disinfected the wound, gritting her teeth against the pain, and then went to the window.
Lately, she found herself zoning out more and more. She could feel herself slipping into depression, a clear sign of psychological strain. But she had no choice. She had to tough it out. Getting out of here was the most important thing.
There were times when Leila felt like giving up. The only thing that kept her going was the thought of seeing her kids and Landon again. She envisioned the scene in her mind over and over.
Looking at the full moon outside, Leila felt a wave of loneliness, her heart tinged with bitterness and sadness. She just hoped she could leave here soon.
Elsewhere, Clayton quickly found traces of Calvert.
While Clayton could have easily kidnapped Calvert and forced him to tell him about Leila’s whereabouts, he opted against doing so upon reconsideration.
It was clear to Clayton that Calvert wasn’t smart enough to hide Leila without help. Someone powerful was definitely pulling the strings. Capturing Calvert to make him speak wouldn’t help, and it would likely tip off the mastermind.
Clayton didn’t have time for games. He saw this as a competition. If he could find Leila before Landon, it would prove that he was better than Landon, and maybe, just maybe, he could win Leila over.
Yet, Clayton couldn’t contain himself and scowled when he saw Calvert entering a property Leila owned.
Seeing Calvert act like he owned the place made Clayton’s blood boil. It was like watching someone trash a priceless treasure.
Clayton remarked sarcastically, “I know Leila. She’d be disgusted if she saw this. She’d probably want to redecorate the whole place.”
“Exactly,” his assistant chimed in.
“This guy is so full of himself. How could Miss Nixon ever be interested in him? He’s old and ugly, nothing like you, Mr. Morgan.”
Clayton wasn’t pleased with the assistant’s flattery and gave him a sharp look.
“What do you mean by comparing me to that loser?” he snapped.
The assistant panicked and shook his head rapidly.
“Mr. Morgan, I didn’t mean it that way, I swear!”
Clayton gave him a menacing look.
“Have someone keep an eye on that creep. Find out where he goes. And if you lose him, you know what will happen,” he ordered.