Chapter 645 Misunderstanding
Finally, the sound of steady footsteps echoed down the staircase.
Michael descended slowly, holding a glass of deep red wine. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit that accentuated his already striking figure. But Emma had no time to admire his appearance; she was desperate to see Seraphine, whom she had been longing for day and night.
"Let's go," she urged, her voice betraying her impatience.
Michael "accidentally" tilted the wine glass, spilling the dark red liquid all over her dress. The liquid quickly spread across the light fabric, resembling a gruesome bloodstain.
"Oops, my bad," Michael said nonchalantly, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. "You should change."
Emma's eyes widened as she struggled to contain her anger. "You did that on purpose, didn't you?"
"Why would I?" Michael spread his hands innocently, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Just a slip of the hand."
Emma took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart. She turned and hurried upstairs, not noticing the meaningful glance Michael gave the bodyguard at the door.
Back in her bedroom, Emma quickly removed the stained dress. Just as she was about to put on clean clothes, the door burst open. Michael walked in brazenly and locked the door behind him with a soft click.
"What are you doing?" Emma grabbed a jacket to cover herself, her voice trembling with panic. "Get out!"
Instead of leaving, Michael stepped closer. "Why so shy now? You were quite enthusiastic last night." His eyes roamed over her exposed shoulders and collarbone with blatant possessiveness. "Feeling modest all of a sudden?"
Emma backed away until her back hit the cold wall. Michael reached out to caress her cheek, his other hand yanking away the jacket she was using to cover herself.
"Don't move," he whispered in her ear, his warm breath sending shivers down her spine. "Be good, or you'll never see Seraphine again."
At that critical moment, the door was kicked open with a deafening crash. George stood in the doorway, his face contorted with rage. The next second, his expression froze as he took in the sight of Emma, disheveled and pinned against the wall by Michael.
"You..." George's voice trembled, his face turning pale.
Emma's heart pounded wildly. She instinctively tried to push Michael away, but he held her even tighter, rendering her immobile.
"Perfect timing," Michael said, deliberately pressing his lips close to Emma's ear, loud enough for George to hear. "Now George can see for himself how you enjoy being with me."
George staggered back as if struck. "Emma, this can't be true."
Tears streamed down Emma's face. She wanted to explain, to tell George that this was all a trap set by Michael. But the innocent smile of Seraphine flashed in her mind, and she bit her lip hard, swallowing her words.
"Get out!" she forced herself to say in the coldest tone she could muster, though her voice shook uncontrollably. "Who gave you permission to come in?"
To make the act more convincing, Emma wrapped her arms around Michael's neck, burying her face in his chest in a show of intimacy. "Michael, make him leave. I don't want to see him."
George looked as if he had been struck by lightning. "Emma, look at me. Look into my eyes and tell me you're doing this willingly."
Emma couldn't lift her head. She feared that one look into George's pained eyes would break her resolve. She clung to Michael tighter, her nails digging into his back as if to keep herself from collapsing.
"Don't you get it?" Michael said triumphantly, holding Emma's waist possessively. "She's always loved me. She was only with you to get back at you."
George shook his head, stepping forward stubbornly. "I don't believe it! Emma, I know you have your reasons."
"Enough!" Emma suddenly pulled a gun from Michael's waist and pointed it at George, her hand trembling. "Get out, or I'll shoot!"
George stood his ground, his eyes filled with pain and determination. "Go ahead. If it makes you feel better."
Emma's hand shook even more. She had no intention of actually shooting; she just wanted to scare George away. But in that critical moment, Michael nudged her wrist.
The gunshot rang out, deafening in the room. George grunted, blood gushing from his palm and dripping onto the expensive carpet, spreading a stark red stain.
"George!" Emma screamed, trying to rush to him, but Michael held her tightly, preventing her from moving.
George clutched his wounded hand, staggering back. His expression shifted from shock to despair, finally settling into a look of dead resignation.
"I understand now," he said with a bitter smile, his voice barely audible. "I wish you happiness, Emma."
As George stumbled away, Emma could no longer hold herself together. She collapsed to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. She stared at her blood-stained hands, her stomach churning with nausea.
Michael knelt down, gently wiping away her tears as if handling a precious artifact. "Well done," he said, his tone patronizing, like praising a well-trained dog.
Emma looked up sharply, her eyes burning with hatred. "Are you satisfied now?"
"Very," Michael replied, standing up and adjusting his cuffs with elegance. "Now, we can go see Seraphine."
Emma mechanically changed into clean clothes, following Michael out of the villa like a puppet. The bright sunlight on her pale face did nothing to warm the coldness in her heart. She knew that from this moment on, she and George were truly over.
Outside the villa, George leaned against an old tree, letting the blood drip from his palm. He watched the car drive away, whispering softly, "Emma, what are you hiding?"
The black car slowly drove into a secluded estate on the outskirts, the wheels crunching over the leaf-strewn private road.
The three-story white building was partially hidden by dense trees, surrounded by tall iron fences with armed guards stationed every 30 feet.
Through the car window, Emma saw the guards' radios and guns glinting in the sunlight, and her heart sank. With such tight security, taking Seraphine away seemed nearly impossible.
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