At her words, tears gathered in Ashlyn’s eyes, spilling over her cheeks.
Katelyn’s concern for her safety was evident, even in her weakened state. Clasping Katelyn’s hand firmly, Ashlyn found herself speechless, overwhelmed by emotion.
Regaining her composure, Ashlyn reassured her, shaking her head.
“Don’t worry about that. If I distance myself, it might actually arouse her suspicions.”
Their prior interactions had always been close. This closeness now seemed like a natural evolution of their relationship, something Ashlyn felt she could justify to Sophia as part of her undercover mission. She was confident that Sophia wouldn’t push back too hard against her.
Gently, Ashlyn offered, “Let me get you some water to help with your dry throat.”
The medicine had left Katelyn’s lips dry and cracked. Katelyn simply nodded in agreement, not holding Ashlyn back.
Once Ashlyn had stepped out, Katelyn turned towards Vincent, her voice carrying a note of apology.
“I apologize for my earlier rudeness in the car.”
The effects of the poison were lessening, but the memories of her behavior remained sharp. She couldn’t ignore the incident and feigned indifference in her apology, hoping to smooth over their future interactions.
Vincent’s eyes darkened as he responded coldly, “It’s fine.” A worry settled in his heart, growing heavier by the moment.
Katelyn sensed a change in his mood, puzzled. Why did he seem upset? Had her apology not been enough?
Without allowing Katelyn another word, Vincent assured her, “Rest now. I’ll manage things with Sophia.”
Katelyn gave a weary nod. Her energy was nearly depleted. Exhaustion, compounded by lack of sleep, overwhelmed her suddenly.
Vincent left the room, and Katelyn surrendered to a heavy sleep.
When Ashlyn returned with the water and found Katelyn sleeping, she carefully moistened Katelyn’s lips with a water-dipped cotton swab. This gesture, Ashlyn hoped, would provide some comfort. Throughout this, Katelyn remained deep in sleep, undisturbed even by Ashlyn’s gentle help.
g?lnσνs.c?, a world of tales
Elsewhere, in a gloomy, damp prison shower in the city’s west end, Lise was showering when the water abruptly cut off. Annoyed, she exclaimed, “Damn, not the water again?” She cleared the droplets from her face, revealing the bruises beneath.
Suddenly, the sound of the door being forcefully kicked open echoed loudly. In the next instant, Sharon was roughly shoved in, tripping and crashing down onto the cold floor.
“Ouch… You hurt me!” Sharon exclaimed, clutching her face.
A group entered behind her, led by the imposing Deborah Burton, who was both large and intimidating. She fixed a stern gaze on Lise and Sharon and shouted, “Lise, come here now!”
Lise hastily wrapped herself in a towel. She stepped out of the shower, her eyes narrowing as she approached Deborah Burton with a cautious tone of flattery.
“Deborah, what can I do for you?”
Having been in prison for only two days, Lise had already found herself at odds with Deborah multiple times. Being a newcomer, how was Lise expected to engage with these seasoned inmates? Deborah was responsible for every bruise on her face. The root of the trouble was Sharon! Since they arrived at the prison, Sharon had been behaving arrogantly, even attempting to make them wait on her. This arrogance had precipitated conflicts, and they were clearly outmatched.
.
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