Chapter 530 Ishara’s Calculations
Concealed by the darkness of the night, Leo with two bodyguards in tow, rushed over and immediately helped Lawrence up to Ishara's bedroom.
"How much dosage did you use on him?" Ishara asked Leo as Lawrence was placed on the bed.
He narrowed his eyes and replied, "Ms. Ishara, considering Mr. Lawrence's sturdy build, I had to use a high dose to ensure he'd be knocked out."
"How long will he be out?"
"Less than an hour. But don't worry, the sedative won't affect his physical functions."
Ishara couldn't help but admire Lawrence's strikingly good looks and a satisfied grin spread across her face. She felt a wave of gratitude for the careful planning she and Leo had put into motion. Although Lawrence had managed to avoid the drugged food, Leo's unexpected prescribed dose caught him off guard.
Ishara settled into her seat, savoring the milk as she sipped it slowly. She cleared her throat before fixing a sharp gaze on Leo and asked, "What did he ask you?"
"Mr. Lawrence was genuinely seeking medical attention. He said he had asthma." Leo glanced at the man on the bed then moved closer to Ishara and whispered, "The kid has it too. It's likely inherited."
Ishara frowned. "But I've never heard of Lawrence having asthma. Was he using that as an excuse to probe you for information?"
Leo recalled his conversation with Lawrence but kept from Ishara the fact that he had secretly prescribed asthma medication for Oscar. He shook his head. "Lawrence didn't ask me anything unusual and nothing in his tone suggested he was prying. Don't worry, I'm careful with my words."
Ishara suddenly remembered a recent meeting with Darcy where she had grilled her extensively about Lawrence. Darcy had asked her whether she was in a relationship with Lawrence.
Darcy's expression changed drastically at that time, frustration etched across her face. After a long silence, she looked at Ishara mockingly and retorted, "It seems that you desire to bear Mr. Lawrence's child to secure your position as Mrs. L?"
Ishara didn't deny it because she wasn't afraid of Darcy knowing.
Nevertheless, Darcy unveiled her cutting wit. "You're fighting a losing battle, you know. Ever wondered why I haven't managed to conceive with him in three years? It's because Lawrence's attention is solely fixed on Winnie. No other woman can ignite a spark in him, not even drugs. I've experimented with them all. If you want to succeed, you have to become his vision of Winnie. That's the only way he might lose control. Ha, good luck to you, Ishara!"
Darcy walked away with a look of disdain in her eyes.
A look of disappointment crossed Ishara's face as she attributed Darcy's failure to her own shortcomings. She couldn't understand how he could be unfazed while holding someone as innocent and fragile as her. However, Ishara acknowledged that he was no ordinary man. His willpower must be formidable.
With a subtle shift in her expression, she said to Leo, "It must go flawlessly tonight."
Waking up an hour later than intended, Lawrence found himself in a hot and hazy environment. Red circles framed his eyes and his temples were adorned with thick beads of sweat. Clad in a snug shirt, his muscular torso showcased a well-defined physique. As he rose, dizziness set in and a mist blurred his vision, making it difficult to discern his surroundings.
As he rose from the bed, a muffled groan escaped his throat, akin to a beast awakening. He strode to the counter, searching for water to drink.
Just then, the bathroom door swung open. Ishara appeared, draped in a thin towel with droplets of water cascading from her hair, her skin captivatingly tender.
Lawrence's gaze stalled on her. His brows furrowed deeply, his finger unsteadily pointing at her. "You!"
Ishara stepped forward swiftly, grasping his finger and swiftly said, "Lawrence, I'm Winnie!"
He jolted at her touch.
With a face that bore a subtle likeness to Winnie's, Ishara drew near, her voice gentle and delivered in a mesmerizing whisper, stating, "I am Winnie." Her fingers traced his sturdy chest as she steadied him toward the bed.
Lawrence's gaze became clouded, his vision obscured by a hazy fog that mingled with the already bewildering atmosphere. The girl standing in front of him appeared distorted and indistinct, leaving him utterly perplexed about her true identity. He questioned with uncertainty, "Winnie, can it truly be you?"
"Could there be anyone else?" Ishara giggled coyly, her voice as crisp and clear as Winnie's. "Have you forgotten that you wandered into my hotel? We're divorced now but you keep showing up here. Seems I can't turn you away." She deliberately spoke in a manner designed to bewilder and mislead him.
Lawrence's rationality shattered. He could no longer discern reality from illusion. Gradually, the face before him morphed into the stunning visage of Winnie.
She was annoyed and was scolding him, her cherry lips a delicate pink.
He looked down, holding her hand and caressed it gently. "I'm sorry, please don't be mad. I can't stop thinking about you. That's why I keep making excuses to see you." Ishara's face clouded with gloom as soon as he spoke honestly about his feelings meant for Winnie and she was immediately overwhelmed by jealousy.
Feeling increasingly uncomfortable, Lawrence started to loosen his tie as his body temperature began to rise. His eyebrows knitted in confusion. He gazed intently at the person before him, his lips parting slightly. "Winnie, are you not angry anymore? It's so rare to see you smile at me like that."
Ishara broadened her smile even further, following the path of his loosened tie to unbutton his shirt. "You're sweating. How about taking a bath?"
Lawrence furrowed his brows, puzzled. He recalled that his relationship with Winnie was like oil and water, hardly compatible. She would never have said things like that. It was too suggestive, almost an invitation.
He had wanted to stand up and leave.
Sensing his lingering clarity, Ishara quickly pressed on him as she rose tenderly. "If you don't want a bath, that's fine. Just sit for a while. I've got a couple of bottles of fine red wine. Let me grab them so that we can chat and have a drink." Ishara offered him wine because the alcohol would accelerate the effect of the drugs in his system, numbing his fading consciousness.
Lawrence was oblivious to her words but as she offered him a glass of wine and was about to take a sip from her own, a sudden urgency in his mind compelled him to swiftly grab the glass from her grasp. "Winnie, you mustn't drink that!" Deep in his mind, etched in his memory, he somehow recalled that she absolutely couldn't consume alcohol.
"Why?" Ishara's brows furrowed tightly. She was irritated for her plan was interrupted. She inched closer, adopting Winnie's flirtatious demeanor and forced herself into his embrace, her voice timid as she asked, "Lawrence, what gives you the right to tell me I can't drink?"
"Because you…" The man's gaze, intense and dark, slid down to her stomach.
Ishara's gaze followed, landing on her flat stomach. A thought halted her mind. She slowly lifted her head to meet his eyes which were imbued with a tenderness that seemed so out of place.
A realization exploded in Ishara's mind.
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