That voice—so familiar—kept echoing in my ears. Emma Johnson blinked her eyes open, struggling to identify where the sound was coming from. When she finally confirmed it belonged to Liam Williams, a cold gust of wind swept under her dress, jolting her into full alertness.
It really was Liam. Had he come looking for her?
Emma scrambled out of the cave excitedly, shouting back in response to Liam. Unfortunately, her voice had grown hoarse from the cold, and the biting air muffled her cries. She had no idea if Liam could hear her at all.
Then his tall, lean figure appeared before her, and in that instant, every tense and fearful cell in her body seemed to dissolve. She slumped to the ground.
Thank God. This time, it's a miracle.
A shadow drew closer. Emma lifted her head, meeting the man's cold, hard face. For reasons she couldn't explain, she forced her cracked lips into a smile, revealing two rows of white teeth.
Liam froze for a moment, his eyes shimmering like stars. Without a word, he pulled her into a tight embrace. His gaze fell on the bloody gash on her forehead, and his chest tightened. He held her closer, as if trying to shield her from all the chill in the world.
Emma wanted to speak, but then she remembered their earlier argument over Amelia. She didn't know how to ask about her.
"Did Amelia wake up? Was she scared? Is she... okay?"
Liam hadn't expected the woman who had just escaped danger to ask about Amelia first. Just hours ago, he had been furious with Emma because of his sister. But now, looking at her disheveled hair, her paper-pale face, and the wound on her forehead, all his anger evaporated.
"Yeah, she's fine. She asked about you too. She doesn't blame you for what happened."
Emma sensed something off in his tone, but she was too exhausted to argue. If this irritable man got angry and left her here to walk back alone, that would be a disaster.
So she just hummed softly, leaned against his firm yet warm chest, and closed her eyes without another word.
Watching Liam carry Emma out of the forest, Christopher Martin finally breathed a sigh of relief. The mountain was vast—even a thorough search would have taken a day and a night. But the CEO wasn't just any CEO; maybe it was fate that connected husband and wife.
"Hiss!"
Emma winced as the antiseptic stung her forehead. She glared at Liam, annoyed. She was convinced he was using this as an excuse to punish her—why did the medicine have to hurt so much?
Liam was equally frustrated. Her wound was already open, and the medicine had anti-inflammatory properties. Unless he used an anesthetic, he was already being as gentle as possible. Yet she still complained.
"Now you know it hurts? What were you thinking earlier? Hitting a tree trunk like that. If you'd gotten a concussion, you'd have no one to blame but yourself," he said coldly.
Emma rolled her eyes at him.
"Would you rather I be dead or injured? By the time you found me, I'd have been nothing but a cold corpse!"
Her eyes flew wide open as her mind went blank. His hot lips pressed against hers. She couldn't understand how Liam, who had just been applying medicine, was now kissing her.
The plot twist was too fast. Forgive her for having only an average IQ—she couldn't keep up.
"Don't ever talk about life and death again. Got it?"
Liam pulled back only when Emma was almost suffocating, his voice icy as he warned her.
Emma stared into his deep, unreadable eyes and nodded.
This time, she obediently let him finish applying the medicine, then lay down on the bed to rest. Ah, the bed is so soft. She closed her eyes, sighing in contentment, unaware of Liam's deep, tender gaze fixed on her.
After Emma fell asleep, Liam took her hand and gently brushed a strand of hair from her face.
At that moment, he realized that, without knowing it, this woman had become an uncontrollable part of his life. She was dangerous, deadly—and yet, he couldn't let her go.
He stayed until the sky turned gray and dawn approached. Then he left the bedroom, closing the door softly. He left the hotel and headed straight to the police station.
At the Silverdale police station, he planned to meet the three thugs and interrogate them about who was behind the attack. But the police told him the three men had died in their cells the night before. There was nothing left to investigate.
Furious, Liam suspected this had something to do with Elijah Clark. No ordinary criminal organization could make three people die in prison without a trace. Although Elijah wouldn't harm Emma, he had too many enemies. Someone must have targeted Emma to get revenge on Elijah. When the plan failed, they silenced the thugs to cover their tracks. This kind of meticulous setup couldn't have happened without a mastermind behind it.
Liam called Alexander Wilson immediately, instructing him to have the organization investigate every criminal group that had conflicts with Elijah. They needed to see if any of them had made recent moves.
Only then could they indirectly find out who wanted to harm Emma.
He didn't stay long at the station. When he returned to the presidential suite at the five-star hotel, he found Emma wasn't in bed anymore. Amelia had somehow shown up and was crying in Emma's arms. Emma looked helpless, patting Amelia's shoulder to comfort her.
"I'm fine. It's just a scratch on my forehead. It has nothing to do with you, so stop blaming yourself," Emma said.
Amelia's sobbing was giving Emma a headache, but she couldn't push her away. After all, Amelia meant well.
"How can it have nothing to do with you? If I hadn't made you worry, if I hadn't let you leave the hotel in anger, none of this would have happened. When I think about how you might not have come back... I feel so guilty. Sister-in-law, it's all my fault."
Amelia cried even harder. Emma felt a throbbing pain in her temple and could only keep comforting her. If only someone could find me a quiet place to sleep, she thought. I'd be their slave in my next life.