His Perfect Wife Strikes Back

146 Frade Is Dead

"No." I struggled, and the rope made the skin of my wrists bleed. Daley wouldn't let go no matter how hard I tried.

He grabbed the waitress by the hair and held her head back, the woman's pale neck protruding forward. With his other hand, a knife is held to the front of the woman's neck. He stood behind her and looked at me.

"She's innocent. Don't hurt her," I shouted at him.

"All men are sinners," he said, with a solemn air characteristic of a bishop, "But God forgives penitents."

"This woman will die because of you." The sharp blade only lightly touched the woman's neck, and a tiny bead of blood immediately oozed from her skin.

This poor woman was still in a coma. Daley moved the knife away from her, leaving a shallow, thread-like cut across her fair neck.

He's not trying to kill this woman, just testing me. He wanted me to give in, to beg, to bow down to him.

He is well aware of my weakness.

"No, please," I begged.

"Are you afraid?" He sneered as the dagger in his hand approached the woman's neck. "When you were using my sympathy for you, didn't you think that you would be used by others as well?"

"How can you let her go?" My insistence at this moment collapsed, he successfully fought back against me.

"Confess your sins to me and beg my forgiveness." He laid the knife on the table, and its silver blade stained with scarlet blood.

"I'm sorry. I was wrong." I looked down. "I beg your forgiveness."

"Good." His voice was cold and emotionless.

"Promise me you'll eat well."

"I promise."

"Promise me you'll never see Frade again."

No, I can't.

My heart is in torment. I can't promise him against my will. But I can't let that innocent woman get hurt because of me.

If I don't agree, she may die.

Fortunately, the doorbell saved me. It was Rita who returned to the room with the food. She ignored what she saw, put the food on the table in silence and left.

My heart is more depressed. I am afraid to face Daley alone.

"Answer me." His voice, like the tip of a dagger, pierced my heart and made me tremble.

"I promise you," I whispered, his figure appearing out of the corner of my eye. Now he has come to me.

I looked up and saw him standing by the bed with a dagger in his hand. Those eyes were like a deep pool of unspeakable fear. Then he raised his hand, the blade reflecting a blinding white light.

I closed my eyes in nervousness at the moment when his hand waved at me. Then I heard the sound of the rope being cut, and one of my hands dropped heavily, and then the other.

I looked at him in disbelief. Was he going to let me go?

"You said you didn't like being hunted." He threw the broken rope on the ground. "Are you satisfied now?"

"Am I free to come and go now?" I asked, stroking the red spot on my wrist.

"No." He calmly rejected me.

Then he went to the French window to make a phone call, and soon there were some tall, strong men in the room. They took the poor woman tied to a chair under Daley's direction.

"Where are you going to let them take her?" I asked uneasily.

"Don't worry. She's not going to die," Daley said, drinking himself a glass of whiskey. "When she wakes up, she'll forget what happened."

"Don't hurt her again." I looked at him with a pleading gaze.

"Now, you need to eat." He glanced at the food on the table. "Eat all the food on your plate."

I reluctantly went to the table under his gaze, and picked up a piece of bread in my mouth. Perhaps because of hunger, when I put food in my mouth, my stomach turned sour. I feel sick.

He sat beside me with a slight frown. I had to chew the bread and swallow it in order not to annoy him.

My throat felt dry and sore, and Daley handed me a glass of orange juice. I took a quick gulp of orange juice from the glass, and the feeling of nausea was temporarily suppressed.

"I don't want to eat any more." After I had barely finished a steak, I couldn't eat any more.

"You need energy," Daley said. "You're too thin."

"I really can't eat any more." My stomach was stuffed with so much food that I felt bloated.

"You can sleep." He reached out and stroked my cheek. "I need you to stay here until I get back."

"When?"

What exactly is his plan? What would he and Mia do to Frade? My heart was on fire. I had to call Frade and tell him the truth as soon as possible.

"Soon," he said flatly.

"I think you are sleepy, my dear," he said, as if by magic.

Soon I felt my body go limp and Daley began to blur in my vision. I looked at the empty glass on the table, and the orange juice liquid flowed slowly down the edge of the inner wall of the cup.

It was the juice.

I fell asleep and woke up again, this time with my hands-free. So I got up quickly. All I could see in the room was Rita cutting fruit on the kitchen table, and I shook my head to make sure that what I was seeing wasn't a dream.

"Eva, are you awake?" Rita put down the knife and the orange.

The knife reminded me of the poor waitress. It wasn't a dream.

"Where's Daley?" I asked.

"He left after you fell asleep," Rita said. "I don't know where he went."

Without the rope, Daley wasn't in the room. Only Rita.

"Rita," I whispered.

"Yes."

"Could you..."

"Eva," Rita interrupted, "Daley said if you want to go, you can go."

"Really?" I asked, surprised.

"Yes." Rita nodded.

I looked in the direction of the door. "There are no guards outside."

I think he's got bodyguards at the door to keep me from escaping. I can't believe he would just let me go.

"Rita, I have to get out of here," I said, changing into a tracksuit and finding my phone.

"Tell Daley I'm sorry."

"Eva," Rita stammered.

"I don't have time."

"Daley told me that Frade was dead."

I stopped in my tracks and dropped my phone.