Chapter 153
But a flicker of surprise flashed in her eyes.
LETTERS
On Sienna’s right thigh, there was a small tattoo–a flower in full bloom. It wasn’t a rose. The shape was more like a trumpet flower, but not quite fully open, just a little unfurled.
The petals shifted in color from vivid red at the center to deep crimson, and finally to inky black at the edges.
It was the kind of visual feast that was hard to put into words–gorgeous, seductive, and shrouded in mystery.
‘Didn’t she say she didn’t like tattoos? Then why does she have one herself?’ Winifred thought, feeling a little thrown off.
Sienna sat down and pulled out a blank sheet of paper. “So, where do you want it? And what kind of design are you thinking about?”
Winifred couldn’t take her eyes off the flower blooming on Sienna’s thigh. Without thinking, she blurted out, “What kind of flower is that on your leg?”
Sienna glanced down and realized her tattoo was showing. Lana squeezed her eyes shut, groaning inwardly, ‘Ugh, I really shouldn’t have let her wear that outfit.'
“It’s a datura flower,” Sienna replied.
As if she could read Winifred’s mind, Sienna added, “But that flower doesn’t really suit you. Here, this is a flower catalog–you can pick whatever you like.”
“Why wouldn’t it suit me?” Winifred shot back, defiant and unconvinced.
Sienna’s gaze grew deeper, her lashes fluttering as she masked a fleeting, complicated emotion. “No reason,” she said lightly, almost evasively.
“Then I want this gourd,” Winifred huffed, jabbing her finger at the catalog.
Sienna just looked at her, at a total loss for words.
“What, is that not allowed?” Winifred challenged.
“How about this one instead?” Sienna suggested, pointing to another design.
“That yellow flower? Isn’t that a chrysanthemum?” Winifred asked, frowning.
“It’s called a cosmos flower. It’s really pretty,” Sienna explained.
“Fine, I’ll go with that,” Winifred grumbled, finally relenting.
Sienna’s fingers were icy cold as they brushed against Winifred’s skin. The instant they touched, Winifred felt like her heart froze for a second, and some weird, unexplainable feeling welled up inside her.
“Don’t worry, it won’t hurt,” Sienna said softly.
Sienna rubbed some kind of liquid onto Winifred’s arm. Winifred had no idea what it was, but suddenly her whole arm went numb. She didn’t even think of anesthesia at first.
“If you’re squeamish, just look away. I’ll be done in no time,” Sienna added.
Winifred snorted. ‘Me? Squeamish? What a joke!'
Watching the way Sienna was so focused and serious, Winifred couldn’t help but let her guard down. Before she knew it, she’d actually fallen asleep.
Sienna waved her hand, and a group of doctors came in to examine Winifred. They discovered something lodged in her brain, but honestly, this result didn’t surprise Sienna at all.
“Miss Enna, the chip’s been in there for way too long. Taking it out now is going to be a real challenge,” one of the doctors reported. “What will it do to her?” Sienna asked.
“Right now, it’s not causing any problems, but in a few years, it might…” the doctor replied.
The chip had probably been implanted in her cerebral cortex years ago, and as time passed, it had burrowed in even deeper. Winifred never even realized it was there, but if it ever started acting up, it could literally put her life on the line.
“Miss Enna, what do we do now? You were right–Lydia Willard really did put a chip in Ms. Winifred Hart’s head back then. That’s just sick!” one of the doctors blurted out, outrage clear in his voice.
Sienna gently brushed her fingers over Winifred’s cheek. “She’ll be okay. After I tell her the truth, I’ll handle the surgery myself.”
Winifred woke up to find herself curled up on the couch, a soft blanket draped over her. The warm, inviting smell of food drifted in from the kitchen.
She pushed the blanket aside and glanced down at her arm. The tattoo was there–and it was gorgeous, so vivid it almost looked alive.
‘Did Sienna really do this for me? She can even do tattoos? Seriously, is there anything she can’t do?’ Winifred thought, a mix of surprise and admiration bubbling up inside her.
“Hey, I made some food. Let’s eat,” Sienna said.
Winifred looked at the table, where four simple dishes and a pot of chicken broth were laid out. It was just basic, home–cooked food, but it had been over ten years since she’d last had a meal like this.