Chapter 72 Another Accident Occurs
Cecilia slept remarkably well that night. She had braced herself for a rough night on the couch, but to her surprise, it was far more comfortable than she had imagined. She didn't wake up once, experienced no back pain, and felt comfortably warm despite expecting to be cold.
In her half-awake state, she marveled at how cozy the couch had been. Suddenly, she felt someone approaching from behind, enveloping her in a warm embrace. The movement felt natural, as if it belonged there.
Cecilia jerked awake. Her eyes flew open to find herself lying on a bed, and the couch ahead of her was conspicuously empty.
The person behind her was Alaric!
Fury washed over her as she realized what had happened. She twisted her body, desperately trying to free herself from Alaric's grasp.
"Quit moving," Alaric murmured, his voice rough with sleep. "Men can't resist teasing."
Her struggles intensified. She wanted to throttle him.
"Sleep a little longer. I'm not fully awake yet," he murmured near her ear, sending a jolting sensation through her body. Alaric knew exactly how to provoke her.
"Alaric! Who gave you the right to put me in your bed?" she demanded, her voice seething with anger.
"Who said I put you here?" he countered smoothly.
Cecilia blinked, momentarily stunned.
"You climbed up yourself in the middle of the night," Alaric said, feigning an air of injured innocence. "Scared the daylight out of me."
"Really?" Cecilia had no recollection of it.
"Yep, you climbed up, ice-cold as a glacier. I had to warm you up," he asserted.
"I don't need your warmth!" she spat back, incensed.
"If I hadn't helped, you would have snuggled into my arms anyway, even put your hands inside my clothes. Want to see what you did to my shirt last night?"
"Stop talking!" Cecilia was mortified, her face flaming red. She had no clue whether he was telling the truth, but she certainly didn’t want to find out any details.
"I want to get up; let me go," Cecilia protested.
"You're so soft. I can't bear to."
"Alaric," she growled.
"Just ten more minutes. Then I'll let you go."
"No."
"Twenty minutes."
"Alaric!"
"Half an hour."
"Ten minutes," she conceded, gritting her teeth.
"Deal," he replied, a triumphant smile in his voice.
To her dismay, he pulled her tighter. Cecilia's entire back pressed against his chest, her hips snugly fitting against Alaric's lower half.
Cecilia was deeply embarrassed, unable to fathom how Alaric could remain so composed under such circumstances. “Morning wood; it'll go away soon,” he murmured casually, his calm demeanor in stark contrast to her flustered state.
She opted to feign ignorance, focusing intently on each passing second, her heart thumping loudly in the stillness of the room. It was impossible to tell whether it was her own heartbeat or Alaric’s that filled the silence, but the rhythmic pounding seemed deafening.
Suddenly, a distressed cry broke the quiet, echoing through the room, “Help! Ms. Emily Whitaker is having a heart attack!”
The urgency in the servant’s voice pierced the tranquil morning, propelling Alaric and Cecilia out of bed in haste.
Cecilia threw open the door, and they rushed into the hallway where a flurry of activity had already ensued. The household was awake and gathered, their faces etched with concern. Arabella bolted into Emily’s room, followed closely by the others, including the newly-wedded couple.
Emily lay on her large bed, struggling for breath. The sight of her frailty struck panic in everyone present.
"Did you call the doctor?" Arabella’s voice wavered with fear.
“Call an ambulance!” Caspian, usually the epitome of calm, was visibly shaken. Christopher was already on the phone, urgently requesting an ambulance from the special hospital line.
Arabella held Emily’s hand, attempting to provide some measure of comfort amidst the turmoil. Caspian, pacing restlessly, questioned the suddenness of the situation, "How did she suddenly have a heart attack? Didn't the doctor say she was fine yesterday?"
A servant stepped forward, her face pale with guilt. “Pamela is missing. Every morning, Ms. Emily Whitaker cuddles Pamela when she wakes up. This morning, Pamela wasn’t there. Emily asked us to find her, but we couldn’t. She got so anxious she had an attack. We’re sorry for not finding Pamela in time.”
Caspian’s anxiety grew. “Pamela never wanders off. She’s probably hidden somewhere in the villa or stuck. Everyone, spread out and find Pamela now!”
The urgency in his voice galvanized the servants into action. Christopher, always ready to help, suggested, “We should go out and help find her too.”
Everyone nodded, prepared to search, but as they were about to leave, a servant returned, her eyes filled with sorrow. She was carrying Pamela’s lifeless body.
"John found her in the outdoor pool. He said she was already gone when he pulled her out." the servant sobbed, the weight of the situation pressing down on her.
Just the room fell into stunned silence as they grappled with the loss, Emily suddenly asked, "Did you find Pamela?"
"No, we're still looking," Christopher, thinking quickly, lied to protect Emily from further distress, signaling for the servant to take Pamela’s body away discreetly.
But Emily, supported by Arabella, weakly stepped out of her room, her voice frail yet determined. “But I feel like Pamela is here,” she insisted, her intuition sharper than anyone anticipated.
In a heartbreaking turn, Emily caught sight of the servant holding Pamela. Her once hollow eyes filled with anguish as she comprehended the scene before her. Tears coursed down her cheeks as she choked out, “No, this can't be true!”
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