The sun made the ground soft, and the wind felt a bit warm on the skin. The young woman tightly held a thick script in her hands, her unfocused eyes staring at the illusory shadows of cars on the street.
At this moment, her face was expressionless, yet her chest felt like it was exploding with fireworks, unable to calm down for a long time.
The vast halo of sunlight over her head gave her a hallucinatory feeling.
Suddenly, a gust of wind blew across the girl's forehead, and a Lincoln car stopped by the roadside. A smiling young man stepped out, always dressed in a suit and wearing silver-framed glasses: "Miss Scott, the second young master was worried you might be hungry and specially sent me to deliver a meal."
After the girl came back to her senses, she was already in the car. The car was quite large, with a whole row of black leather sofas and even a table in the middle, on which there were three dishes.
The car drove as steadily as if it were on flat ground.
"Jack Hugh, has your second young master installed surveillance in my room?" Rosie Scott propped her head, squinting at the three dishes on the table: sweet and sour fish, candied sweet potatoes, and pineapple rice.
Weren't these the dishes she said she wanted to eat last night when she called her father on the balcony?
Assistant Hugh, not knowing why, raised three fingers with a solemn expression to swear: "I pledge with my life on the second young master's character, he would definitely not install surveillance in Miss Scott's room."
The girl picked up the chopsticks and rummaged through the three dishes, as if searching for evidence of someone's plot to harm her.
Assistant Hugh glanced at the rearview mirror and suddenly laughed: "Miss Scott, it's not poisoned, rest assured and eat boldly."
From early morning until now, Rosie Scott hadn't drunk any water. She was indeed hungry, but she valued her life even more.
The girl picked up a piece of candied sweet potato with the chopsticks, her cheeks puffing up slightly as she slowly and cautiously chewed. After savoring it carefully, she found nothing amiss and her appetite immediately increased.
Assistant Hugh smiled, seeing the girl's chubby cheeks in the rearview mirror, feeling she was so lively, different from other rich young ladies.
The car stopped by the lake, the door opened with a 'swoosh', and the girl looked up. Her cheeks were like two ping pong balls, with sweet and sour fish sauce all around her cherry lips, her eating manner quite astonishing.
The man outside the car wore a white shirt and sat in a wheelchair, holding a fishing rod, a flicker of surprise in his dark eyes; when the girl saw him, she recalled his intimidating words from last night, raising her chin and casting him a reproachful glance.
That look was neither too daring nor too timid.
To be honest, Rosie Scott had always been fearful of him in her heart, though she was adept at hiding it; previously, she deliberately opposed him because Charles Anderson maintained a facade of warmth and politeness and she knew he wouldn't get angry with her in public; but since he revealed his edge last night, the girl felt a bit intimidated.
Assistant Hugh got out and collected the fishing bucket and rod of the second young master, then helped him into the car.
The three dishes on the table were entirely depleted, the fish bones lay intact on the plate, and the other two dishes were a mix of indistinguishable remnants.
After Charles Anderson got into the car, he sat upright opposite her, the shadows of trees outside the window flickering over the man's profile, his deep gaze inescapable.
"Mr. Anderson knows the rules best; staring at someone like this isn't very polite." The girl felt chills from being stared at; she was someone who knew when to advance and retreat. Before yesterday, she had always harbored the fantasy of getting away unharmed from Anderson Castle, but after last night's encounter, that illusion was shattered by the man; if her family's lives were threatened, she could only allow herself to be at others' mercy.
The man took out a handkerchief from his pocket: "Miss Scott's pride and beauty aren't hidden even with sauce all over her mouth."
"..." The girl licked her lips, pulled the handkerchief over in anger, feeling dissatisfied yet helpless at Charles Anderson's intentional teasing.
Charles Anderson noticed the script next to the girl, his lips slightly curling, then took a bottle of red wine from the small fridge beside him. His fingers were long, and the aroma of the red wine filled the car as he poured a glass and pushed it to the girl: "Congratulations, Miss Scott, on landing a good role."
The girl glanced down, sneering inwardly. He was truly always playing a role.
When Rosie Scott picked up the wine glass, she deliberately brushed her fingers across the man's hand, her eyes glinting mischievously, her voice soft yet unnervingly enticing: "I'd still rather hear Mr. Anderson call me wife."
"There'll be an opportunity."
"You're good at dodging questions."
"A woman's heart is truly like a needle in the sea; last night, Miss Scott wanted to help me bathe and called me husband, but today she is distantly only calling me Mr. Anderson. I wonder why?" The man knowingly asked.
Jack Hugh, driving in front, occasionally glanced into the rearview mirror, and from the eyes of the second young master and Miss Scott, he saw sparks flying, making the conversation thrilling to listen to, even as an outsider.
Rosie Scott ground her teeth, averting her gaze from Charles Anderson. This man was meticulous, even with this mild demeanor, he inexplicably held the upper hand.
The girl hadn't considered this issue in such detail before, but when someone is in a bad mood, it's hard to call out such mushy terms.
She placed the wine glass down, looking at the man with deep meaning: "So you like it."
The man coldly tugged at the corners of his mouth, his lips suddenly stiffening, he turned his head towards the back of the car, his voice cold: "Jack Hugh, we have a tail, speed up."
Jack Hugh immediately reacted, unaware when a tail had appeared behind them. He slammed the accelerator, the speed abruptly soaring; Rosie Scott was thrown backward, landing on the leather sofa, and even if it didn't hurt, the inertia displaced her insides.
With a 'bang!', the car behind accelerated and collided with the rear, the girl covering her ears, her heart nearly leaping out, flashes of a past life's car accident rushing through her mind, the car speeding uncontrollably down the road.
"Give me your hand." Charles Anderson's voice sounded in her ear, Rosie Scott sweating profusely, turning her head to see that he remained steady in his seat; as the man's hand reached over, there was another 'bang!' and the car behind collided again, the suicide-like hit making one's heart jump.
The inertia pulled the girl further away from the man, she arduously crawled up from the sofa, his hand still stretched out, his demeanor serious and his tone undisputable.
"Give me your hand."
Rosie Scott's palms were sweaty, she barely managed to stretch her hand over, and just as the car behind collided again, the girl thought they'd be thrown backward together, but the man's strength was formidable, directly pulling her to his side.
The girl fell on top of him, instinctively wrapping her arms around his waist.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!" This time, it wasn't an impact, but the penetrating sound of gunshots, causing Jack Hugh's hands to tremble erratically at the wheel, destabilizing the car.
The girl looked back and saw three bullet holes in the rear glass, her whole body turning limp, her face as white as paper.
Thinking back, if Charles Anderson hadn't pulled her over just now, she might have had three more large bleeding holes.
The man shielded the girl's head with one hand and tapped the back of the leather sofa with the other; Rosie Scott heard the clack of mechanical slots engaging, followed by Charles Anderson's cold yet comforting voice: "Cover your ears."
She immediately covered her ears, but the deafening gunfire was still very noticeable.
"Bang!! Bang!!! Bang!!!"