Chapter 7
At the hospital, Marlene’s feet were still bleeding. She was still wearing stilettos. The pain was killing her.
But as a secretary, she was loyal to her duty and stayed by Kenyon’s side.
“Are you mad?” Although she tried to conceal her emotion, Kenyon captured it accurately.
She was more stately than her age. Even when they were alone, she hardly expressed her feelings.
“I wouldn’t dare, Mr. Burt.” Her voice was low, but somehow, Kenyon felt restless.
The doctor came out. Thelma only fainted from hypoglycemia. There was nothing serious.
In the ward, Kenyon calmly looked at Thelma, who was lying on the bed.
“Stop pretending.”
In fact, he had been onto Thelma’s tricks for some time. But he said nothing. He didn’t wanna offend the Glyn family because of a secretary.
“Why are you picking on Marlene all the time?”
“What? Mr. Burt, does it sadden you?” Thelma sat up.
“You’re too soft. I have to say I’m beginning to have doubts. Do you really want a marital alliance with my family or not?”
She stood up, walked to Kenyon, and whispered in his ear, “Mr. Burt,
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show your sincerity.”
Knowing that Thelma was fine, Marlene left. She came to another hospital for her wounds.
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When she took off the stilettos, the blood had mixed with the flesh of her soles. Even the nurses in the emergency room gasped at the sight.
Her face turned pale from the pain when the wounds were disinfected with hydrogen peroxide solution. Her soles were covered with blood, deeply wounded, just like her broken heart, the only thing she got after years of devotion.
Marlene limped out of the hospital on crutches with her feet wrapped in
gauze.
When she was hailing a cab, a white van appeared from nowhere and stopped before her. A group of men in black got out.
Marlene wanted to run, but it was too late. When someone covered her mouth, she smelled ether.
Her consciousness was fading. Gradually, she passed out.
When she opened her eyes, she didn’t know where she was. She was hooded and blindfolded.**
What was gonna happen to her? Fear seized her.
When she spoke, Marlene tried to sound calm. “I don’t know who you are, why you kidnapped me, or who hired you. I promise that if you let me go, I’ll pay triple.”
Next was a moment of silence. Then, someone whipped her hard on the back.
The whip whistled. It hurt so much that Marlene was having a
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Chapter 7
convulsion.
Cold sweat dripped from her forehead to the floor.
She could smell the blood on her back.
“Let me go. I won’t call the police.”
The whip didn’t stop.
The executer remained silent.
Marlene’s fear grew.
The person whipped her again and again.
It was 99 whippings altogether. Marlene was on the verge of fainting. Her back was a horrible sight now.
Just then, the executer spoke. It was Kenyon’s voice.
“Thelma, I did as you said. Let her go.”
“Let her go?” A female voice came from behind Marlene.
Then, salty water was poured on her back. A heart–wrenching pain ran through her body.
Marlene’s face turned pale, covered with cold sweat.
High–concentration salty water kept coming, rinsing her wounds. Even the air smelled of blood.
Before the last shred of her consciousness left her, Marlene was carried into a vehicle. After the car drove for some time, the door opened.
She was carried out and left alone in the wilderness.
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Exhausted, she fumbled for her phone on her body and made a phone call with her last strength.
“H–Help…”
When she was about to close her eyes, she saw a person running toward
her.
Who was it?
Lateefa Khanam is a spirited writer who finds freedom in horse riding. She cherishes her mare and the newborn foal, calling them her little happy family.
