Chapter 1583 Never Felt Time Pass So Slowly
The slope above was too steep to climb—impossible in her condition—and her attackers might still be lurking there. Her only option was to drag herself downward through the uneven, rain-soaked terrain.
The rain had turned the ground into a treacherous mud pit, but Ann couldn't afford to care. The will to survive burned fiercely within her. She'd fought too hard to get where she was in life—she refused to let it end like this, abandoned on a hillside.
Each movement forward sent shockwaves of pain through her body, as if her bones were splintering beneath her skin.
She crawled for what felt like eternity, leaving a trail of blood that the rain quickly washed away. Time lost all meaning; her world narrowed to a single imperative: just a little farther, just a little more.
Headlights appeared in the distance. She was nearing the road, but her voice failed her when she tried to call out. All she wanted was for someone—anyone—to save her. Survival was her only prayer now.
A black sedan cruised along the rain-slicked road. Shelley sat in the back, her head resting against the window while Philip reviewed documents beside her. The driver maintained a steady pace, his eyes occasionally flicking to the rearview mirror.
Philip had "graciously" allowed her this brief excursion—a thirty-minute drive before returning to what had essentially become her gilded cage. Some freedom.
Squinting through the rain-streaked glass, Shelley spotted a dark shape on the roadside. Her brow furrowed. "Stop the car."
The driver hesitated, glancing at Philip in the rearview mirror instead of complying. Everyone knew Shelley's word meant nothing now.
The entire Harper family's fate rested in Philip's hands—this outsider who now controlled their empire. One word from him could exile them all.
Philip didn't look up from the documents balanced on his knee. He exuded an elegant coldness that bore no resemblance to the rakish young man she'd once known. Or perhaps that man had never existed—just another calculated performance.
Realizing the driver wouldn't obey her, Shelley turned to Philip. "Stop the car."
Philip methodically set his papers aside, not bothering to look at her. "What for?"
"To save a life," Shelley replied with a bitter smile. "Haven't you heard? Save one life, save the world entire."
Philip frowned, not understanding her reference. He glanced at the driver and said calmly, "Stop."
The car immediately pulled over.
Shelley found it darkly amusing that the driver—once loyal to the Harper family—now only responded to Philip's commands. She took a deep breath and reached for the door handle, only to find it locked.
"I need to get out," she said.
Philip leaned back, eyes closed, his posture making it clear this wasn't up for discussion.
Shelley's fingers trembled slightly.
It had been over a month since everything fell apart, but facing him still felt surreal. Benjamin's imprisonment had been her wake-up call, making her realize how blind she'd been.
Philip had shown his true colors many times, but she'd mistaken his manipulations for the natural tension between lovers—a man's pride, she'd thought. Her silence had allowed him to gradually devour the Harper Group piece by piece.
Now Benjamin was in prison, and the remaining Harper family members lived at Philip's mercy.
She clenched her fist. "There's a woman lying out there. I want to help her."
"Is that how you ask for favors?" Philip tapped his fingers lightly on the documents, his casual dominance making Shelley's stomach turn.
Her eyes reddened, but she fought to maintain her composure. She'd been raised as a sheltered heiress, accustomed to privilege and dignity. She hated appearing vulnerable before him—though he'd already seen her at her lowest.
She lowered her lashes. "Please."
The word came out steadier than she expected.
Philip's phone rang, and the subtle shift in his expression told Shelley exactly who was calling—Emma, his so-called "distant cousin."
Emma had been diagnosed with a brain tumor. Shelley had used the Harper family connections to bring in international specialists for her treatment. But Emma had resisted, and Philip had spent countless hours at the hospital with her.
As his girlfriend, Shelley had accompanied him, enduring Emma's hostility. She'd tolerated it, believing she was simply supporting Philip's family during a crisis. He had never even acknowledged Shelley as his girlfriend in Emma's presence, claiming Emma's fragile mental state couldn't handle the shock.
Shelley had accepted it all. Her attraction to Philip had been instant and overwhelming. His humble background hadn't mattered—she had enough wealth for both of them. She'd fallen for his charm and his looks.
Then came the revelation: Emma wasn't his cousin at all, but his fiancée.
How laughable.
Shelley found herself sickened whenever she recalled her own naivety, each memory more nauseating than the last.
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