"What? You...?" George was completely stunned-it never crossed his mind that Charles had done it to himself.

Charles glanced down at the neatly bandaged wound and fell silent. Deep down, he knew-even if she'd stabbed him to death last night, he couldn't bring himself to lay a finger on her.

"I don't want this to get back to my parents," he said, getting up and slipping into his pajama top.

"I understand," George replied quickly. He knew Charles was just trying to protect Ashley. After all, Mr. and Mrs. Blackwood had never liked her to begin with, and if they found out what happened... it wouldn't end well.

Seeing Charles frown so tightly, George hesitated, then said, "I really think there's some kind of misunderstanding between you two. Otherwise, Miss Carter wouldn't pretend not to know you. We all saw how much she loved you back then."

A misunderstanding? Was it really that simple? Charles let out a dry, bitter laugh.

He rubbed his temples, exhaustion suddenly washing over him. With a wave of his hand, he signaled George to leave.

The next morning, George returned with the maids to deliver breakfast to Ashley.

"Miss Carter, breakfast is here," he said as one of the maids carefully placed the food on the small table.

"Is he badly hurt?" Ashley stood up from the couch the moment she saw him.

She'd been restless all night, tied up in worry. She had stabbed him near his heart and there had been so much blood...

"Don't worry, it's just a surface wound. The doctor's already checked him out-it's nothing serious," George reassured her.

Relief washed over her. She let out a breath and sat back down slowly.

"Miss Carter, seeing how worried you were, it's obvious you still care about him, right?" George asked hopefully, remembering the panic in her eyes.

"You've got it wrong. I only asked because this all happened because of me," Ashley quickly waved him off.

"That's all?" George couldn't hide his disappointment.

"Of course!" She nodded firmly. Then she looked at the breakfast spread on the table, clearly puzzled. "After what I did last night, he still had breakfast brought to me? Shouldn't he be furious or something?"

She had literally said she'd kill him. With his temper, she expected him to be way less forgiving.

"Miss Carter, think about it-knowing our young master's temper, if he really wanted to hold you accountable, do you think you'd still be sitting here this peacefully?" George's tone might've sounded like a question, but his certainty was unmistakable.

"He's not gonna punish me?" Ashley blinked in disbelief. That guy was furious last night-there's no way he'd just let it go that easily!

"Miss Carter, don't you see what's going on? He keeps backing down because he's in love with you. To him, you're not just important-you're the one," George said with all the sincerity in the world.

If she really was his lover, those words would've hit her hard and maybe even moved her. The thing was...

"I'm really not the person he's looking for. Can't you tell him to let me leave?" Ashley asked, knowing full well it was a long shot, but still clinging to hope.

"I'm sorry, Miss Carter. That's not something I can do. Your breakfast's getting cold-you should eat it while it's still warm." With that, George turned and walked out of the room.

"Wait, don't go! I still have questions!" Ashley called out, only to see the door shut behind him.

Silence filled the room again. She'd hoped to get something out of him-maybe some clue about that guy from three years ago and the woman he fell for, just something to prove she wasn't her.

She'd asked other staff too, but no one seemed to know a thing. George was the only one who'd been around long enough to possibly have answers.

She looked at the beautiful spread of breakfast on the table, but had zero appetite.

She felt like a caged bird-surrounded by luxury, yes-but none of it mattered. It wasn't what she wanted. She just wanted a simple, normal life with Lucas.

But why hadn't Lucas found her yet? It'd been so long. This place couldn't be that hidden, right? She'd looked out the windows-it was a villa neighborhood, but not exactly in the middle of nowhere.

And the way she was taken on their wedding day, right in broad daylight with everyone watching-normally, the police would've been all over it. But so far? Nothing. Not even a whisper.

There was only one explanation: the guy who brought her here had way more power than she ever imagined.

Oh god... what kind of person had she ended up dealing with?

Just thinking about it made her feel so bummed. No, she had to come up with another way to get out of here. Lucas must be freaking out after not seeing her for two days!

Ashley forced herself to calm down. After her attempt to escape by climbing down the bedsheets yesterday, the security around her had clearly been upgraded. Now, not only were there four bodyguards at the door, but several more had been added downstairs right below the balcony. At this rate, unless she suddenly grew wings, she had zero chance of escaping.

That realization hit her hard.

Wait a second... what if she could just get out of here first? She slapped her thigh as the idea struck. If she could leave his territory, running would be way easier.

But how could she convince him to let her leave willingly? Her brief excitement vanished, and her brows furrowed again.

Ugh, whatever, food first. No energy means no escape either. She grabbed her fork and wolfed down breakfast in mere minutes.

As she walked over to the sink to wash her hands, she turned on the faucet.

Got it!

Watching the cold water run gave her a sudden spark. What if she made herself catch a cold?

If she got sick, surely they'd take her to the hospital. That might just be her shot at freedom.

Good job, Ashley-brain working when it counts! She couldn't help but feel a little smug.

With a plan in place, time to put it into action.

She headed straight to the shower, flipping the cold water on full blast.

Whoa-that was seriously cold!

As the icy water poured down on her head, she almost jumped back out of reflex. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to stay under the shower for over an hour, soaking in freezing water until her clothes were dripping wet. She finally stumbled out, shivering.

Her head felt heavy, and as soon as she hit the bed, she slowly drifted off into a daze.

"Mr. Finley, something's wrong-Miss Carter's burning up!" The maid who brought her dinner noticed something was off and rushed to tell George.

"Got it," George responded quickly, not daring to delay. He immediately called Kevin to come check on her.

"Who... who are you?" Ashley heard a voice nearby and cracked her eyes open, seeing a man holding an ear thermometer.

"I'm a doctor, Miss Carter. You've got a fever," Kevin replied after checking the display.

Wait-he's a doctor? That means... is this a hospital?

She perked up a bit, but the side glance she cast around the room showed she was still in the same giant bedroom.

"This isn't a hospital?"

"This is the Blackwood residence," George explained.

"No! I feel awful. I wanna go to a hospital!" The second she realized she hadn't left the villa, Ashley tried to sit up in protest.

"Please don't worry, Miss Carter," George said, thinking she was doubting the doctor. "Dr. White's very skilled. He'll get your fever down in no time."

"But..." She tried to argue again.

"Lie down, please. Let me take another listen." Kevin gently pushed her back down and raised his stethoscope to check her again.

Oh no... from the looks of it, taking her to the hospital wasn't even on their radar. Lying there, Ashley was panicking inside, but she couldn't show it-if they caught on, all her effort would go to waste.

It was almost eleven at night when Charles finally wrapped up work and headed back to the villa.

"Sir, about Miss Carter..." George started to report on Ashley's condition.

"No need to update me about her every day!" Charles cut him off coldly, still pissed about last night.

"Yes, sir." George figured the fever had mostly gone down anyway-no need to stir up trouble unnecessarily.

As Charles walked past Ashley's room, his steps halted without him realizing it. Staring at the tightly shut door, his legs just carried him over on their own.

It had only been a day, but he was already losing his mind wanting to see her.

"If you keep me locked up here, sooner or later, I'll find a way to kill you!" Her heartless words from the night before echoed in his ears.

Funny, isn't it? Just to get back to that man, she'd rather kill him. And here he was, still pathetic enough to miss her.

With a bitter laugh, he yanked his hand from the doorknob and stormed back to his own room.

No idea how long she had slept, but Ashley slowly opened her eyes.

When did she even fall asleep? She vaguely remembered popping a few pills for her fever.

Reaching up, she touched her forehead. Wait, what the...? The fever's gone?

She stared blankly for a second, stunned. Seriously? Took her so much effort to catch a cold and now it's already over? Should she thank the doctor for being too good or curse her stupid immune system?

Heck no, she couldn't get better this fast. She had to go to the hospital!

Determined, she jumped out of bed and ran straight into the shower.

This time, she stood under the cold water for two, maybe three hours. It wasn't until her vision started blurring and even standing felt like a struggle that she finally turned the tap off and dragged her soaked body back to bed.

The next morning, a maid came by with her breakfast.

"Miss Carter, your breakfast." She carried the plate in and set it on the table.

There was silence.

"Miss Carter? I brought your breakfast," she called again.

Still no response.

That's when she noticed Ashley's face was flushed, hair plastered to her scalp with sweat like she had just stepped out from a shower. But the wet hair wasn't from any shampoo...

Worried, the maid quickly set the plate aside and grabbed a thermometer. When she saw the reading, her hands trembled.

"Miss Carter? Miss Carter!" She gave her a light nudge, then a few more. Nothing.

Panic hit hard.

Face gone pale, the maid bolted downstairs.

"Mr. Finley! Mr. Finley!" she shouted, flagging down George who had been checking on Charles's breakfast in the kitchen.

"What's with the panic?" George asked slowly, glancing up.

"It's Miss Carter! I- I think she passed out!" the maid panted, trying to catch her breath.

"What?" George's eyes widened as he rushed up the stairs behind her.

He reached Ashley's room and saw her lying there, and instantly realized she wasn't exaggerating.

Without hesitation, he pulled out his phone and called Kevin.

It wasn't long before Kevin arrived, and George led him straight to Ashley's room.

Meanwhile, Charles had just finished eating and was heading outside, about to get in his car, when he noticed the vehicle parked nearby.

"Whose car is that?" he asked Oscar, who was standing by waiting.

"It's Dr. White's. I saw him drive in earlier," Oscar replied respectfully.

"Kevin? What's he doing here?" Charles frowned, puzzled.

"Looks like he's here for Miss Carter. I heard she had a huge fever this morning and passed out," added Oscar.

Passed out?

Why the hell didn't anyone tell him that?