Chapter 198

Chapter 198:
Candice opened her eyes and saw Milton hurting himself.
She jumped up in surprise and exclaimed, “Hey, what are you doing?”
Milton ripped open the wound that had just been bandaged. Was he even aware of what he was doing? His arm was bleeding profusely.
Candice grew anxious, her eyes darting around in search of a way out. Her hands were tied to the bed. She was trapped, unable to move, and unsure of how to act.
All she could do was shout, “Are you serious? You’re losing too much blood—this could be fatal!”
Milton took several slow, deep breaths, and gradually, he seemed to regain his composure.
After hearing her words, he turned to face her and asked, “Would it matter to you if I died?”
Candice froze, her mouth hanging open, unable to find the right words.
“You can trust me,” Milton assured her.
But Candice couldn’t understand what he meant. Trust him? Based on what?
He had bound her hands—what other options did she have?
She tried to kick her legs free, but it was no use.
“Milton, untie me now!”
“Rest,” he ordered coldly, disregarding her plea. Rest? How was she supposed to rest? This was the most absurd request she’d ever heard.
With him standing right there in front of her, how could she possibly sleep?
Milton sank into the sofa, massaging his temples and forehead with one hand.
He was silent, completely ignoring Candice.
With his other hand, he gripped the cushion tightly. The luxurious silk cushion crumpled under his hold, wrinkles spreading across its surface. Sweat and blood mixed, dripping onto the fabric.
He was tortured, his body burning with fever and wracked by the agony of both the drug and blood loss. Yet, he gritted his teeth, fighting against the relentless pain.
Fortunately for both of them, his resolve was unwavering.
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Not a single thing could go wrong.
It would be difficult for him to lose control if he kept his distance from her.
Candice tossed and turned for a while before realizing that the man on the sofa wasn’t paying attention to her. He seemed completely oblivious to his surroundings.
She cast a cursory glance at his wound.
Maybe the cut wasn’t too deep, or his blood clotting was excellent. No more blood flowed from the injury—it had already formed a scab.
Milton closed his eyes, still holding his forehead with one hand. Candice couldn’t tell if he was awake or not. Was he in a coma, perhaps?
After the night’s fight, she was so exhausted she couldn’t keep her eyes open.
She gave in to the overwhelming need to sleep. Though restrained, she managed to fall into a deep rest. Surprisingly, it was a good night’s sleep.
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