Chapter 191: The Journal
My face burned even redder, but at this point, there was no turning back.
The moment my silk robe slipped to the floor, I collapsed onto the bed like a lifeless doll, burying my face into the soft silk sheets beneath me. Out of the corner of my ear, I thought I heard a faint chuckle from Carter, though I didn’t dare lift my head to confirm it.
Muffled by the sheets, I muttered, “Carter, you can start now.” To break the awkwardness, I even tried to joke, “Don’t go easy on me just because I’m a delicate woman.”
“Alright.” His laugh was clearer this time, low and warm. Then, he gently lifted my leg. The unexpected contact made me flinch, my instincts pulling me away.
“Don’t be scared, Zoey.” His soothing tone calmed me, and I forced myself to stay still as he applied a cool ointment to my calf and began spreading it evenly. The room filled with the faint scent of herbs. The moment his fingers pressed down, I couldn’t help but cry out.
“Okay… Relax.” He started massaging gently. “It might hurt a little at first, but the ointment works best with this technique. You’ll feel much better tomorrow.”
His words startled me. “Wait, you’re going to massage it too?”
“Of course. After exercise, you do stretches or use a massage gun to relax your muscles, don’t you? This is the same idea. Just think of me as your massage therapist.”
Think of Carter as a massage therapist. Who in their right mind would dare? Still, his technique felt surprisingly professional. Each motion pressed perfectly into the tension points along my muscles and tendons. Gripping the sheets tightly, I clenched my teeth against the pain.
“Just hang in there,” he murmured in a low, soothing voice, “A bit of pain now, and you’ll feel much better afterward.”
“Alright…”
I glanced down at the bedspread, now crumpled beneath me. Soon enough, the initial sharp pain began to fade, and my stiff calf muscles loosened. A wave of relief washed over me, making me almost eager for him to move to the next spot.
“How does it feel now?” he asked.
“Much better,” I admitted, resting my chin on the back of my hand. “Carter, how do you even know how to do this?” For someone with a leg injury, he was astonishingly capable.
“I picked it up along the way,” he said casually. “Alright, next is your thigh. You’re okay with that, right?”
His skillful hands had earned my trust, so I nodded. “Sure, no problem.” But I spoke too soon. As he rolled my dress up to the top of my thigh, the heat that had finally subsided returned with a vengeance, spreading across my face. The instant his fingertips brushed against my skin, I let out a gasp. Beads of sweat formed on my forehead from the sharp, shooting pain. His eyes, warm and focused, met mine. “Be good, Zoey. Just endure it for a bit longer.” There was a faint, almost imperceptible trace of something intimate in his voice.
I quickly buried my face into the sheets, silently chanting in my head, “You can’t see me. You can’t see me.” But I couldn’t ignore the sensation of his fingertips against my skin. Each stroke sent my thoughts spiraling in directions I couldn’t control.
Outside, snow had begun falling again, fluttering down under the soft glow of streetlights. The yard lights cast a warm and festive glow, creating an almost idyllic scene. I started to drift a little. I’d always dealt with my injuries alone, quietly enduring without anyone to lean on. My attention had always been focused on Anna. But here was Carter, massaging me with unwavering patience for nearly two hours. He seemed tireless, far more enduring than any massage gun.
Though I was beginning to feel better, guilt started to creep in. It didn’t seem fair for him to keep going while I just lay there.
“Carter, I’m feeling much better now. You can stop. Aren’t your hands sore?”
He smiled faintly. “I’m fine. Are you sure you’re feeling better?”
To prove it, I hopped off the bed and spun around in front of him. “Look, I’m perfect… Ouch!” My knees buckled, and before I knew it, I fell straight into his arms.
His hand slipped around my slender waist, holding me close as his deep, husky voice murmured in my ear, “Zoey, I’m a normal man. If you keep this up, you’re going to make me…”
I scrambled to the bed, pulling the covers tightly around myself until I was cocooned. From under the blankets, I mumbled, “Good night, Carter.” He chuckled softly, his tone carrying a trace of indulgence. “Good night.” Though the moment passed, I could still feel the lingering warmth of his fingertips on my skin. But I was too exhausted to dwell on it and quickly fell asleep.
The next day, after a grueling morning of training, Damian reminded me, “Mrs. Bolton, the Sanders have invited you over for dinner tonight.”
The Sanders. I paused mid-crunch, beads of sweat rolling down my cheeks. “Who’s on the guest list?”
“All the Boltons.”
It sounded like a simple family dinner. Given the tension between the two families recently, the Sanders were likely using the festive season as an opportunity to smooth things over. I’d been meaning to return anyway. My old room still held a few personal items I needed to retrieve, including a journal that chronicled everything I’d been through in recent years—especially Anna’s actions against me. I’d hidden the journal well, so it shouldn’t have been confiscated by the police. One day, that journal would become the key evidence to take Anna down.
“Alright, I’ll go get changed.” Dragging my weary body back to my room, I took a shower. When I emerged, Carter was waiting for me with a smile and some ointment. “Come on, Zoey. Take your clothes off.”
After last night’s incident, as he’d predicted, I was starting to feel less shy around him.
“Thank you, Carter. By the way, does massage help your leg? If it does, maybe I could try giving you one sometime?” He’d done so much for me; I wanted to return the favor somehow.
“Sure, we’ll try it another day.”
Later, we arrived at the Sander residence. Returning to this villa—a place I both loved and hated, where I’d spent so many years—was surreal. Every corner felt so familiar, yet I was now a stranger here.
As soon as we stepped into the yard, a cat leaped down from a tree and landed in my arms. It was Snowflake. Pets weren’t allowed here, so I’d built Snowflake, a stray cat I’d rescued, a little shelter outside the villa and left food for her whenever I could. After I died, she must have gone back to roaming. Now she was nuzzling against my face as if reuniting with her owner.
Kate, surprisingly polite today, remarked, “How did that cat get back again? Mrs. Bolton, sorry about this. She’s a stray and keeps coming around for food. She’s got quite a temper—scratched me pretty bad when I tried to chase her off last time. You’d better put her down before she bites you.”
“She seems pretty docile,” I replied, setting Snowflake down. As I stood, I met Anna’s probing gaze. She remarked with a slight smirk, “How odd. That cat only ever liked Chloe before. I didn’t expect her to warm up to you like this.”
My heart skipped a beat. Did she suspect something?
“Maybe I just look a lot like Chloe,” I said calmly.
“That must be it,” Anna replied. Then, switching to a more apologetic tone, she added, “Mrs. Bolton, I wanted to say I’m sorry for everything that happened before. The reason I invited you all here today was to apologize.”
She donned her usual image of being so considerate and kind, yet just two days ago, she’d held a knife to my throat. What an actress. Feigning fear, I avoided her gaze, letting her believe her threats had cowed me.
After dealing with her for half the evening, I signaled Carter to keep her occupied while I slipped away to the backyard. If I could climb up to the second floor, I’d reach my old room. I’d done this plenty of times as a kid, so I knew the place like the back of my hand. Thankfully, the balcony door wasn’t locked. A gentle push, and it opened.
I retrieved the journal from a hidden safe under the mattress. Every entry detailed Anna’s cruelty toward me. Suppressing any sentimentality, I retraced my steps, tossing the journal onto the lawn before preparing to jump down. Just as I was about to leap, a man’s voice cut through the night. “What are you doing?” My heart froze.