Chapter 155 Framed
George's eyes turned icy as he looked at Anna.
Anna stared back, wanting to argue, but George's gaze silenced her.
Instead of letting go, George held Emma's hand even tighter. Emma knew this was her chance. She yanked her hand free from George's grip, her movements firm and resolute.
George's heart skipped a beat, a mix of shock and loss flashing in his eyes.
In that instant, he felt a deep void, like something precious had slipped away.
"I should go." Emma gave a small smile, limping towards Anna.
As she passed by Anna, Emma deliberately quickened her pace, pretending to accidentally trip over her and brushing against Anna's body as she fell heavily to the ground.
"Ah!" Emma cried out in pain, but her hand firmly held a strand of hair she had pulled from Anna's coat. With Anna's hair, she could now conduct a paternity test for Lucas.
"What’s your problem?" Anna asked coldly, a hint of disdain in her eyes, though she secretly felt pleased.
"I didn’t see you," Emma said, looking scared.
George rushed over, squatting down with concern, "Are you okay?"
Ignoring George, Emma turned to Anna, "Ms. Stuart, I agreed to leave, you saw it. I don’t want to intrude on your and Mr. Russell’s time, but why won’t you let me go?"
Emma's words stirred something in George. He looked up at Anna, his eyes flashing with anger, "Get out!"
Anna's face went pale. She felt wronged, but George was falling for Isabella's act again.
Anna didn’t move, wanting to explain, but George, seeing Isabella's vulnerable state, was reminded of Emma's tragic end and his years of regret and torment.
He couldn’t stand to see Anna for another second.
"Get out!"
"Why?" Anna's voice was filled with shock, "This is my home, I am the mistress here!"
"You were never the mistress here," George pointed to the villa behind him, "The mistress here is only Emma. And I said, Isabella is my friend. How dare you treat her like this?"
George's disappointment in Anna grew. "Get out!"
Anna's voice was cut off again as George opened the door.
Outside, the rain was pouring, but George didn’t hesitate to drive Anna out of the Russell Villa.
Anna took a deep breath and walked out resolutely.
Standing outside the Russell Villa, rain soaking her clothes, Anna felt a chill deep in her bones. Her heart was full of jealousy and hatred towards Isabella, unable to bear George's concern for Isabella while she was left out in the cold.
"Isabella, you won’t be happy for long," Anna muttered to herself, her voice lost in the rain.
Her hand gripped the door frame tightly, her fingertips turning white from the pressure, a wave of despair rising in her heart. She wanted to rush back in, to confront George, but she held back.
Anna thought, 'Isn’t it just playing the sympathy card? Anyone can do that.'
Back then, Emma had left an indelible scar in George's heart with her death. Now, Anna could use her suffering in the rain to win back George's heart.
Anna thought, 'Isabella, I have a trump card. You can’t beat me!'
Inside the house, Emma sat on the sofa, her ankle pain causing her to frown slightly. George sat beside her, looking at her gently, his eyes full of concern.
"Let me help you," George said softly. He picked up a bottle of ointment, gently squeezing some into his palm, and then placed his warm hand on Emma's ankle. George's movements were gentle and meticulous, as if he were caring for her most fragile part.
Emma felt the warmth of his palm and a wave of irony washed over her. Now she was just pretending to have twisted her ankle, and George was so worried. In the past, when she was almost tortured to death by a tumor, all she got from George was a "liar." Even when she went blind, George didn't believe a word she said.
"Does it hurt?" George asked in a low voice, his fingers gently massaging her ankle, his actions imbued with a hint of caution, afraid of hurting her.
"A little, but it's okay," Emma smiled slightly. She knew how to smile in the most beautiful and alluring way. Sure enough, George was mesmerized, and he couldn't help but call out "Emma" again.
"Mr. Russell, you're mistaking me for your ex-wife again," Emma pouted playfully. "If you keep mistaking me, not only will I be troubled, but Michael will be very upset too."
"Oh? Him?" George seemed very interested in her relationship with Michael. "How did you and my uncle meet?"
"On a plane. It was love at first sight, then love deepened upon meeting again, and we got together," Emma's face lit up with a happy smile when she talked about Michael.
"You've only known each other for three years, and the child is already two years old," George kept staring at Emma's expression, seeing that she remained calm.
"Yes, our relationship is very good, so we had Seraphine."
"Seraphine is very cute, she looks a lot like you."
"Of course, she's my daughter."
"But I think she doesn't quite resemble my uncle," George said.
Emma didn't respond immediately; instead, she stared into George's eyes and asked, "What exactly are you trying to say? Just say it."
"I was wondering if Seraphine's father might be someone else," George said.
George remembered that three years ago, out of jealousy over Ethan, he had forced Emma into sex. Could that one time have led to Emma getting pregnant and giving birth to Seraphine?
He knew the idea was crazy, but once the seed of thought was planted, it uncontrollably took root and sprouted. He thought about his natural affection for Seraphine, the smiles she showed him, and whether it was due to psychological suggestion, he seemed to really see his own shadow in Seraphine's face.
He wanted to do a paternity DNA test with Seraphine. If Seraphine was his daughter, then Isabella must be Emma!
Suddenly, there was a loud banging at the entrance.
The door was being struck with heavy thuds, causing a dull echo. George's and Emma's eyes instinctively turned towards the door.
"Who is it?" George's face instantly darkened, a cold, harsh look flashing with a hint of vigilance.
The noise outside grew more urgent, as if someone was pounding the door with intense anger and dissatisfaction.
Another loud crash, the door seemed to be under immense pressure, letting out a low groan.
"Open the door! I know you're in there!" A furious shout came from outside, a woman's voice, and it was a familiar one.
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