Chapter 644 Dreamlike
Emma stood by the bed, her eyes cold as she watched Michael lie unconscious, a triumphant smirk playing on her lips. She turned and walked to the vanity, retrieving a bottle of specially made essential oil from a hidden compartment. She had concocted this hallucinogen when Michael wasn't paying attention, designed to induce the most desired dreams.
She added a few drops to the diffuser by the bed, and a sweet, floral scent began to fill the room as a light purple mist rose. Leaning close to Michael's ear, she whispered, "Sweet dreams, Mr. Russell."
In his dream, Michael found himself in a luxurious bedroom. Under the soft lighting, Emma was kneeling on the bed in a sheer red nightgown, smiling at him. Her long hair cascaded over the white sheets, her eyes filled with tender affection.
"Michael," the dream Emma called softly, her voice sickeningly sweet, "haven't you always wanted me?"
Michael moved towards her involuntarily, reaching out to touch her cheek. The sensation was so real, the warmth so familiar. Emma wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her red lips brushing his ear. "Tonight, I'm yours."
The passion in the dream was more intense than reality. Emma did everything to please him, every glance, every touch, perfectly timed. She writhed beneath him, moaning seductively, whispering the sweetest words. This was the scene Michael had fantasized about countless times, finally conquering the unattainable Emma.
But as the passion faded, Michael felt an inexplicable emptiness. He looked down at the compliant, gentle "Emma" in his arms, sensing something was off. Her gaze was too submissive, her actions too deliberate, unlike the strong, independent Emma he knew.
In a daze, the face of the woman in his arms seemed to change. The stubborn eyes turned into Celeste's lively, focused ones; the lips that always spoke coldly to him now curved into Celeste's familiar smile.
"Celeste?" Michael called uncertainly.
The woman in his arms didn't answer, only silencing his doubts with a more fervent kiss. But Michael's heart grew heavier. He pushed her away abruptly, only to find the bed empty, with just a wisp of light purple smoke slowly dissipating in the air.
Blinding sunlight streamed through the gap in the curtains, hitting Michael's face. He opened his eyes with a frown, his head throbbing. The memories of last night were fragmented; he remembered Emma in a red dress coming to his room, the details of their intimacy, but everything felt hazy, like looking through frosted glass.
The sweet floral scent still lingered in the air. Michael propped himself up, realizing he was alone in the bed.
Dragging his heavy steps out of the bedroom, he was drawn by the enticing smell of food from downstairs. He walked towards the kitchen, and through the frosted glass door, he saw a slender figure busy at the stove.
That silhouette... the loosely tied hair, the apron around the slim waist, the elegant neck revealed when she turned slightly—it looked just like Celeste.
Michael's heart skipped a beat, and he blurted out, "Celeste!"
The glass door slid open, and Emma walked out with a plate of eggs and toast. She was wearing a simple white loungewear, her hair in a casual ponytail, her face still flushed from waking up.
"You're awake?" she said calmly, placing the breakfast on the table. "I made breakfast."
Michael stood frozen, the light in his eyes dimming instantly. He finally saw clearly that the person in front of him was not Celeste, but Emma.
"You..." Michael's voice was hoarse, "Why so suddenly..."
"What's the matter, not used to it?" Emma pushed a cup of coffee towards him. "Didn't we agree last night? For Seraphine's sake, we'll get along." Her tone was light, as if she had truly resigned herself to the situation.
Michael stared at her face, trying to find a flaw, but Emma's expression was flawless. She even smiled at him, though the smile didn't reach her eyes.
Michael ate breakfast mechanically, the food tastedless. He kept glancing at Emma, feeling that something was off. The memories of last night grew fuzzier, but the sense of loss lingered.
"What are your plans for today?" Emma suddenly asked.
"I have a meeting at the office," Michael replied instinctively, then grew wary. "Why do you ask?"
Emma shrugged. "Just wondering if I could go see Seraphine."
Michael set down his coffee cup, his gaze sharp. "You're that eager?"
"She's my daughter. I haven't seen her in a long time. Is it strange that I want to see her?" Emma retorted, a hint of well-timed hurt flashing in her eyes. "Or are you saying that what you promised last night doesn't count?"
Michael was at a loss for words. He had indeed promised that if Emma complied, she could see Seraphine. But everything was happening too quickly, and he felt there was some kind of plot.
"I'll take you in a bit. I need to change first." Michael finally relented. "Celeste... Emma."
He almost called the wrong name again.
Emma, her back to him as she cleaned up, stiffened slightly but kept her voice calm. "What is it?"
"Nothing." Michael shook his head and left the room.
Hearing the door close, Emma let out a long breath, nearly dropping the plate in her hands.
Michael stood in the spacious walk-in closet, slowly tying his silk tie, his long fingers adjusting the knot.
His gaze, however, was fixed on the surveillance footage outside the villa's gate, his eyes cold and calculating. George paced anxiously outside the iron gate, like a caged beast, occasionally glancing towards the villa, his eyes full of worry and unease.
Michael's lips curled into a cruel smile. His long fingers tapped on his phone screen, sending a message to his men hidden nearby: "Let him in, but don't alert him. Let him come to the main house on his own."
Downstairs, Emma had changed into a simple beige dress, the hem swaying gently as she moved. She held a carefully wrapped gift bag, containing Seraphine's favorite strawberry cream cake and a new set of fairy tale books.
She stood by the entrance, her slender fingers unconsciously stroking the handle of the gift bag, occasionally glancing upstairs, waiting for Michael to join her to visit their daughter. Her heart was racing, both eager to see Seraphine and anxious about what lay ahead.
"What's taking so long?" Emma muttered softly, frowning. She checked her watch, the seconds ticking by, her anxiety growing stronger.
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
