The servant ignored her, setting down the dinner before leaving.
Even though the meal consisted of her favorite dishes, Iris Yates was in no mood to eat. All she could think about was the person in the basement. She stared out at the pitch-black sky, her eyes completely devoid of light. Her dinner grew cold beside her, and the servant never returned. Unable to hold herself up any longer, she collapsed onto the carpet, her gaze still fixed on the sky outside.
The next morning, the servant returned. Seeing the untouched food, she immediately frowned. She cleared the dishes away and brought in breakfast.
"I want to see William Quinn," Iris repeated. Her voice was much hoarser than the day before.
The servant remained silent. She simply set down the breakfast and left.
Over the course of the day, three meals were brought in. Every single time, Iris repeated her demand, but the servant only delivered the fresh food and took away the untouched plates. Two days passed like this. Iris remained collapsed on the carpet, entirely drained of the strength to even stand up.
She blinked sluggishly and wondered, "Why hasn’t William Quinn shown up at all? Did he die out there? If he’s dead, does that mean I’ll finally be free?"
But... she still didn’t know the identity of the person in the basement, nor had she managed to rescue them. She was the one who had dragged her friend into this mess.
Tears slipped from the corners of her eyes, a wave of profound sorrow washing over her.
Suddenly, the distant sound of gunfire and explosions drifted in through the window.
Iris trembled. With great effort, she scrambled up, dragged herself to the balcony, and peered outside. Under the pitch-black night sky, flashes of fire flickered in the distance. Inside the castle grounds, the bodyguards were running around with well-trained discipline, though she had no idea what they were doing.
Her hands gripped the railing tightly as she stared out. "Is someone attacking the castle?" she thought. "William is a maniac. Did he provoke someone he shouldn’t have? Have his enemies come for revenge?"
If that was the case, it wouldn’t be so bad. She could die right here. Death would be a release.
However, she was destined to be disappointed.
The gunfire didn’t last long before the night fell silent once more. The bodyguards within the castle melted back into the shadows, as if the commotion had never happened.
Then, the roar of a helicopter engine echoed through the air. She followed the sound and saw a chopper flying toward the estate, landing a short distance away from the castle.
Iris no longer had the strength to keep watching. She passed out.
When she woke up again, she felt a restrictive pull on the back of her hand. She instinctively raised it to look and saw an IV tube. An IV needle was pierced into her skin, secured with white medical tape. Her hand was excessively thin—it was so emaciated that it looked somewhat terrifying.
"Baby, how could you go on a hunger strike?"
A hoarse voice broke the silence. The tone was laced with reproach and fear, but to Iris’s ears, it only ignited the deep-seated resentment in her heart.
She snapped her head around to find William Quinn slumped by her bedside, looking completely disheveled. His blue eyes were staring at her, brimming with heartache.
Iris raised her hand and slapped him across the face.
However, she had been starving for nearly three days. Even with the nutrient solution dripping into her veins, she had no strength left. The blow landed on his cheek as light as a feather.
William quickly pinned her arm down. "Baby, don’t move. You’re very weak right now. You’re as fragile as a poor little flower—one gust of wind and you’ll break."