Imogen’s declaration stunned Johanna. “Ms. Russell, you can’t! The rainforest is too dangerous, and you’re close to giving birth. This is far too risky!” the maid protested. “Yes, think of the baby, Imogen. What if the stress causes a premature birth? Let me go instead. I promise to keep you informed!” Johanna pleaded, shaking her head.
Despite their pleas, the usually gentle Imogen remained firm. Her tone brooked no argument. “I’ve made up my mind. Make the arrangements!”
Left with no choice, the maid began preparations for the journey, extensive arrangements including medical supplies and two private doctors to ensure Imogen’s safety. The plane was soon ready, and Johanna helped Imogen aboard.
By the time their group reached the rainforest’s outskirts, night was falling. From the helicopter, recent human activity was evident: muddy footprints and slashed vegetation marked makeshift paths.
After a day-long flight, Imogen’s face was pale, but her good health ensured her unborn child was unharmed. As the helicopter began its descent, Imogen sighed. “Why not simply fly over the area?”
“Ms. Russell, the rainforest is shrouded in dense fog. Further progress by helicopter is impossible,” a crew member explained.
The Russell family’s men, handpicked and trained by Stephan himself, were both loyal and capable. Once the helicopter landed, they swiftly established a camp in a large clearing, creating protective barriers and deploying insect and snake repellents. Imogen was settled in the largest military-grade tent. A bonfire was lit, and night guards ensured their safety. Despite the humidity, the crew did their best to make Imogen comfortable.
At dawn, four search teams entered the rainforest, leaving two teams to guard the camp and Imogen. Imogen felt frustrated and worried, tormented by her helplessness. She had come out of concern for Stephan, hoping it would ease her mind, and because she distrusted outsiders with the search. She wanted on-site updates. However, she felt like a burden, diverting manpower to protect her. Her guilt went unnoticed.
Johanna, with feigned determination, spoke up. “Imogen, I’m worried about Stephan too. Let me go into the rainforest to look for him. Don’t worry, I’ll risk my life to bring him back!”
“Johanna…” Imogen was touched. Before others could object, she agreed. “Alright, you can go with Andy and the others!”
Andy’s eyes widened. They were here to rescue Stephan, not on a casual excursion! The rainforest’s dangers, coupled with Johanna’s fragility, would hinder the search and necessitate diverting resources for her protection—absurd! Unlike Stanley, who would have voiced his objections, Andy kept his thoughts to himself.
When Charles learned of Evelyn’s irregular heartbeat from her confinement and near-fatal shock, he was shaken. Yet, his instinct was to defend Dahlia. “Grandma, Dahlia had nothing to do with this,” he said.
“You!” Rosa’s rage nearly stole her breath.
“Please, help my grandma rest,” Charles instructed the servants attending to Rosa. “Grandma, you wouldn’t want Evelyn waking up and worrying about you, would you?” he added, striking a nerve.
“Hmph!” Rosa snorted, glaring fiercely before leaving.
Charles remained, casually removing his white shirt to reveal crisscrossing whip marks, far worse than Rosa’s previous punishment. Fresh lashes layered over old scars. Dr. Nelson quickly treated Charles’ wounds; his expression remained unchanged as he gazed at Evelyn.
Once Dr. Nelson finished, he was about to change Evelyn’s finger dressing. “Leave us,” Charles said, requesting only the special ointment.
After Dr. Nelson left, Charles gently unwrapped Evelyn’s bandages. The hospital had treated the wound, but its severity remained evident. Charles’ throat tightened.
“Now you feel the pain for her?” Rosa’s voice cut through the silence, her eyes scrutinizing him. She sensed his remaining kindness.
Charles remained silent, masking his emotion. Rosa wouldn’t let him off easily. Noticing his reaction, she showed him photos the bodyguard had taken in the Greenrose basement. “Look at what you’ve done to Eve!”
The door had been opened, the rats gone, but the bloodstains remained a haunting reminder. Charles’ eyes widened in shock. His suppressed discomfort returned, weighing heavily on his heart. He understood her fury.
“Take good care of Eve,” Rosa said, seeing a glimmer of hope before leaving him.
After the door closed, Charles applied the ointment to Evelyn’s wounds, his touch gentle yet deliberate. Despite his care, the pain was sharp. Evelyn furrowed her brows, cold sweat dampening her hairline. Charles paused, his gaze softening. An image flashed: young Charlie, holding Evelyn’s hand, blowing on her injured finger. “Mommy, if I blow on it, will it stop hurting?” Charlie had asked. Evelyn had smiled, touching Charlie’s head. “Yes, when you blow on it, I don’t feel the pain.”
Charles, almost instinctively, gently blew on Evelyn’s finger while applying the ointment. Evelyn’s brow visibly relaxed. Encouraged, Charles continued, unaware Evelyn was slowly waking up.
Her tender care was confusing; only Rosa had ever been so gentle. Opening her eyes, she softly called out, “Gran…” but stopped, seeing Charles. Her expression froze. Since Dahlia’s arrival, he hadn’t shown her such kindness; his attention had been solely on Dahlia.
Evelyn’s daze was fleeting. She quickly composed herself, withdrawing her hand. Her finger hit the bed’s edge, causing a sharp pain. Charles instinctively reached for her, but she pulled away. She could handle the pain. She understood his gentleness was a façade—a sugar-coated bullet. Facing his darkened expression, Evelyn sat up, her gaze icy. “Charles, quit pretending. I don’t need your act. Let it go. I won’t change my mind about Dahlia.”