The faint echo of a wheelchair drifted away, and a drained Freya Lawson collapsed onto her bed.
She was on the brink tonight. That man, with his insatiable desires, had almost claimed her.
It felt like her very essence had been wrenched from her, leaving only a hollow form behind.
Gathering her strength, Freya sat up, examining the state she was in. Her nightgown was in shambles, revealing the man's wicked intentions.
Had her tears not fallen, he would not have shown restraint.
Her wrists, marked red from his fierce grip, were evidence of his overpowering force. Though he held back tonight, she couldn't trust him to do so in the future.
A realization dawned upon her; Royal Garden Mansion was no longer a sanctuary.
The Lawsons were no longer deceived by her act. She could, and should
