Chapter 581 Torture
"You still have feelings for me." George's voice was firm, not asking but stating. His lips brushed along Emma's neck. "Otherwise, you wouldn't let me touch you."
Emma suddenly pushed him away, snapping out of her daze. "No, Michael's coming tomorrow..."
That name hit George like a cold shower. He sat up abruptly, anger flashing in his eyes. "Are you really gonna leave with him?"
"I'm just going back to Stuart Villa," she said, avoiding his gaze.
George clutched his side, a pained groan escaping his lips. Emma panicked immediately. "What's wrong? Is your old injury acting up again?"
He seized the chance to grab her hand and press it against his chest. "It hurts more here," he said, his voice unusually vulnerable. "Emma, you still love me. Why are you torturing both of us?"
Emma's hand felt the strong, steady beat of his heart. She tried to pull away, but he swiftly pulled her into his arms.
"George!" she gasped softly, worried about waking Lucas.
George took the moment to kiss her. The kiss started with a hint of punishment but softened into tenderness as he felt her yielding lips. Emma's resistance gradually melted away, turning into a sigh as she allowed him to deepen the kiss.
When George's tongue pried open her teeth, Emma couldn't help but respond. This realization filled George with joy. He cupped the back of her head, kissing her more deeply and urgently, as if trying to make up for all the missed kisses over the years.
"Mommy?"
The innocent voice made them spring apart as if electrocuted. Lucas stood by the bed, rubbing his eyes, clutching his little blanket.
Emma's face flushed instantly, but George turned calmly. "What's wrong, buddy? Did you have a bad dream?"
Lucas shook his head and climbed onto the bed, squeezing between them. "I want to sleep with Mommy."
Emma, feeling like she had been granted a reprieve, quickly hugged Lucas. "Okay, Mommy will sleep with you."
George watched the mother and son cuddle, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. He leaned down to whisper in Emma's ear. "You can't escape, Emma."
Emma shivered all over. She watched as George tucked the blanket around her and Lucas, then sat in the chair by the bed to keep watch. The moonlight cast a soft silver edge on his sharp features, and for a moment, she felt like she was back many years ago.
Back then, they weren't married yet. Emma was just his junior.
Lucas snuggled into her arms and quickly fell asleep again. Emma gently stroked her son's hair, but her gaze involuntarily drifted to George. He seemed to sense her eyes on him and caught her hand in the dark.
As their fingers intertwined, Emma realized clearly that no matter how much she tried to deceive herself, her heart still beat for only one person.
Michael carried a drowsy Seraphine back to Sophia's house. Seraphine's little head rested on his shoulder, her breathing even and warm, her tiny hand unconsciously clutching his collar.
"Daddy," Seraphine mumbled sleepily, her voice as soft as cotton candy. "Are we going to see Mommy tomorrow?"
Michael's previously terrible mood melted away. He kissed the top of her head, his voice incredibly gentle. "Of course, Seraphine. Whenever you want to go, we'll go."
Seraphine snuggled into his arms like a kitten finding a cozy spot, her small hand gripping his shirt tightly. "Daddy is the best."
Those words unlocked the softest part of Michael's heart. He carried her into the bedroom, gently laying her on the small bed and carefully tucking her in.
"Want to hear a story?" Michael asked softly, his fingers gently combing through Seraphine's soft hair.
Seraphine nodded sleepily, her little hand reaching out from under the covers to grab his fingers. "Tell me the bunny story."
Michael smiled, sitting by the bed, his voice low and tender. "Alright, let's tell the bunny story."
He slowly recounted the story Seraphine had heard countless times, watching as her eyes gradually closed and her breathing became steady. Only when he was sure she was completely asleep did he gently release her hand, tuck in the blanket, and place a light kiss on her forehead.
"Goodnight, my little princess," Michael whispered, his eyes full of affection and reluctance.
Leaving the bedroom, Michael saw Sophia sitting in the living room, holding a bowl of hot soup.
"Is Seraphine asleep?" Sophia asked, looking up.
Michael nodded, his expression soft. "Yeah, she just fell asleep."
Sophia sighed, handing him a thermos. "This is the soup I made for Emma. Take it to the hospital when you go."
Michael took the thermos, frowning slightly. "It's so late, and you still made this?"
Sophia shook her head, her eyes full of concern. "She hasn't been eating well since she was hospitalized. This soup is good for her stomach. Make sure she drinks it while it's hot."
Michael was silent for a moment, then nodded. "Alright, I'll take it to her."
Sophia looked at him, hesitating before speaking softly. "Michael, some things can't be forced."
Michael's eyes instantly turned cold, but he didn't argue. He simply replied, "I know."
When Michael returned to the hospital with the soup, it was already late. The hallway was quiet, with only the lights at the nurse's station still on. He walked quietly towards Emma's room, but as he pushed the door open, he froze.
George was leaning over, kissing Emma, and Emma's hand was tightly gripping his collar. The intimacy between them was glaringly obvious.
Michael's pupils contracted sharply, and he nearly dropped the thermos. He took a step back, then turned and walked out of the hospital in large strides.
Blinded by anger, Michael stormed to Celeste's apartment.
"Why did you give the food container to George this evening?" Michael's voice was low but carried undeniable anger. "I told you, Emma's meals are your responsibility. Why was it him delivering the food instead of you?"
Celeste was momentarily stunned by Michael's sudden questioning, but she quickly composed herself, meeting his gaze. "Because Ms. Stuart has the right to make her own choices."
That statement was like a fuse, igniting Michael's suppressed anger. His fingers tightened around the thermos, knuckles turning white. "Even you don't support me?"
Celeste took a deep breath, her tone calm but firm. "Michael, this isn't about support. Ms. Stuart is an adult. She has the right to decide who can take care of her and who can be close to her."
Michael's chest heaved with anger, his eyes dark and menacing. "She's not in her right mind right now! George is taking advantage of her, and you're just going to stand by and watch?"
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
