Chapter One
The body lay in perfect repose on the Victorian fainting couch, looking more like a sleeping beauty than a victim. Detective Sarah Chen had seen enough death in her ten years with the Metropolitan Police's Special Cases Unit to know that natural death never looked this peaceful. Something was very, very wrong.
'No signs of struggle, no marks on the body, and yet...' She leaned closer, studying the victim's face. Charlotte Mills, aged 28, was found by her roommate this morning, apparently having passed away in her sleep. Her expression was serene, almost blissful, but her eyes - those were what caught Sarah's attention. Behind the closed lids, her eyes were moving rapidly, as if still deep in REM sleep.
"You see it too, don't you?" The voice came from behind her, rich and cultured with a slight Irish lilt. "She's still dreaming."
Sarah turned to find a tall man in an impeccably tailored charcoal suit standing in the doorway. He hadn't been there a moment ago, she was certain of it. His dark hair was streaked with silver at the temples, and his eyes were an unusual shade of amber that seemed to shift color in the light.
"This is a closed crime scene," she said firmly, her hand instinctively moving toward her weapon. "How did you get in here?"
He smiled, but it didn't reach those strange eyes. "Dr. Marcus Thorne," he said, pulling out a card that somehow both looked official and seemed to shimmer slightly. "I'm a consulting specialist with the Department's new Oneiric Phenomena Division."
"The what division?" Sarah frowned, taking the card. The moment her fingers touched it, she felt a slight electric tingle, and the letters seemed to rearrange themselves before her eyes.
"Dreams, Detective Chen. We investigate crimes involving dreams." He moved into the room with fluid grace, his attention fixed on the victim. "And this is the third one this month."
Sarah's mind raced. There had been two other deaths recently - both young women, both found peacefully dead in their sleep. She'd seen the reports but hadn't made the connection until now. "How do you know about those cases?"
"Because I've been tracking the killer for quite some time." Thorne knelt beside the body, his eyes now definitely more gold than amber. "He's what we call a Dream Collector - someone who has learned to enter and steal dreams. But this one has developed a taste for more than just dreams. He's taking souls."
Under normal circumstances, Sarah would have dismissed such talk as nonsense. But there was something about the scene, about the victim's still-moving eyes, about Thorne himself, that made the impossible seem suddenly plausible.
"If you're tracking him," she said carefully, "why haven't you caught him?"
Thorne's expression darkened. "Because he only appears in dreams. The physical world is my domain, but his... his is the realm of sleep. To catch him, we need someone who can walk between both worlds." He turned those unsettling eyes on her. "Someone like you."
"Me?" Sarah almost laughed, but the sound died in her throat as memories she'd long suppressed began to surface. The dreams that felt too real, the nights she'd awakened to find objects moved in her room, the way she sometimes knew things she couldn't possibly know...
"You've always known you were different, haven't you, Detective?" Thorne's voice was gentle now. "The dreams that come true, the hunches that turn out to be right, the way you can sometimes see how people died just by touching objects they owned..."
Sarah took an involuntary step back. "How do you know about that?"
"Because I've been looking for someone like you. A Natural - someone born with the ability to cross the threshold between waking and dreaming." He gestured to the victim. "Charlotte here won't be his last. There will be others, and their souls will remain trapped in an eternal dream unless we stop him."
Just then, the victim's hand twitched, her fingers moving as if writing something. Sarah moved closer, watching as invisible words were traced in the air. Thorne pulled out what looked like an antique monocle and held it up. Through its lens, golden letters shimmered in the air where Charlotte's fingers moved.
"Help me," Thorne read aloud. "He's coming for the others."
Sarah felt a chill run down her spine. She looked at the victim's peaceful face, at those restlessly moving eyes, and made a decision that would change her life forever.
"Tell me what I need to do."
Thorne's smile was grim. "First, you need to learn to control your abilities. Then..." he held up the monocle, through which Sarah could now see strange symbols glowing all around the room, "you need to learn to hunt in dreams."
Outside the Victorian townhouse, storm clouds gathered, and Sarah Chen, homicide detective and newly discovered dream walker, took her first step into a world where nightmares were real, and death was just another kind of sleep.
Chapter Two
The basement of the Natural History Museum was the last place Sarah expected to find the headquarters of a secret dream investigation unit. Yet here she was, following Thorne through a maze of storage rooms filled with artifacts that seemed to pulse with their own inner light.
"The mundane world only sees what it expects to see," Thorne explained, using an ornate key to unlock a heavy wooden door marked 'Private Collection.' "To them, this is just museum storage. To us, it's the largest collection of dream artifacts in the Western Hemisphere."
The room beyond defied physics. It stretched impossibly far, filled with glass cases containing everything from ancient masks to modern-looking devices. Floating orbs of soft light illuminated collections of bottled dreams - actual dreams, swirling like liquid mercury behind glass.
"Your badge, Detective," Thorne held out his hand. Sarah hesitated before handing over her police credentials. He placed it on a strange device that looked like a Victorian music box crossed with a computer. When he returned the badge, it felt different - heavier, somehow more real.
"Now you'll be able to access both worlds officially," he said. "Look at it again."
The badge had changed. Alongside her regular police credentials, new text had appeared: 'Special Inspector, Oneiric Investigations Division.' The letters seemed to shift between English and something older, something that made her eyes water if she looked too long.
"Before we can hunt the Dream Collector, you need to understand what you're dealing with." Thorne led her to a case containing what looked like a normal pillow. "Touch it."
Sarah reached out hesitantly. The moment her fingers made contact, the world tilted. She was suddenly standing in someone else's dream - a sunny beach, but the sky was green and the sand whispered secrets. She jerked her hand back, gasping.
"Good," Thorne nodded approvingly. "Most people can't pull back from their first dream artifact. You have natural barriers."
"What was that?" Sarah's heart was racing.
"A dream fragment from 1892. A young girl's last dream before the influenza took her." His voice softened. "We preserve them here. Dreams carry memories, emotions, sometimes even pieces of souls."
"And this Dream Collector... he takes entire souls?" Sarah remembered Charlotte Mills' peaceful face and restless eyes.
"He traps them in eternal dreams, feeding off their essence." Thorne moved to another case, this one containing what looked like a cracked mirror. "Each victim becomes part of his collection, their souls powering his abilities, letting him dreamwalk without natural talent like yours."
Suddenly, the cracked mirror began to frost over. In its surface, Sarah saw Charlotte Mills' face, mouth open in a silent scream. Then another face appeared - another victim, she presumed - and another.
"He's showing off," Thorne growled. "He knows we're investigating."
The temperature in the room dropped dramatically. Frost patterns spread from the mirror to nearby cases, and Sarah heard what sounded like distant laughter.
"Well, well," a voice echoed through the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere. "A new player in the game. And such interesting dreams you have, Detective Chen."
Sarah felt something brush against her mind, like cold fingers trying to pry open a door. Instinctively, she slammed her mental barriers shut. The presence withdrew, but not before leaving behind an impression of amusement.
"He's already caught your scent," Thorne said grimly. He pulled out a small velvet bag and removed what looked like a dreamcatcher made of silver wire and black pearls. "Wear this when you sleep. It won't keep him out entirely, but it'll stop him from stealing your dreams while you're still learning to defend yourself."
As Sarah took the dreamcatcher, her fingers brushed Thorne's, and suddenly she was hit with a flash of his dreams - centuries of memories, battles fought in realms of sleep, and a profound sense of loss that made her gasp.
Thorne withdrew his hand quickly. "Your abilities are stronger than I thought. We'll need to work on your control."
"What are you?" Sarah asked directly. "You're not just some government consultant, are you?"
Before he could answer, an alarm began to sound throughout the facility. One of the dream bottles had turned black, its contents writhing like smoke.
"He's hunting again," Thorne said, already moving toward the exit. "Someone in the city has just entered their last dream. Are you ready for your first real case, Detective?"
Sarah touched her new badge, feeling its power hum under her fingers. "Do we have time to save them?"
"If we're lucky, we might catch him in the act. But remember - in dreams, he's incredibly powerful. One wrong move and you could lose your soul."
As they rushed from the dream archive, Sarah caught one last glimpse of the cracked mirror. In its surface, she saw her own reflection smile back at her with eyes that weren't quite her own.
The hunt was about to begin.
Chapter Two
The basement of the Natural History Museum was the last place Sarah expected to find the headquarters of a secret dream investigation unit. Yet here she was, following Thorne through a maze of storage rooms filled with artifacts that seemed to pulse with their own inner light.
"The mundane world only sees what it expects to see," Thorne explained, using an ornate key to unlock a heavy wooden door marked 'Private Collection.' "To them, this is just museum storage. To us, it's the largest collection of dream artifacts in the Western Hemisphere."
The room beyond defied physics. It stretched impossibly far, filled with glass cases containing everything from ancient masks to modern-looking devices. Floating orbs of soft light illuminated collections of bottled dreams - actual dreams, swirling like liquid mercury behind glass.
"Your badge, Detective," Thorne held out his hand. Sarah hesitated before handing over her police credentials. He placed it on a strange device that looked like a Victorian music box crossed with a computer. When he returned the badge, it felt different - heavier, somehow more real.
"Now you'll be able to access both worlds officially," he said. "Look at it again."
The badge had changed. Alongside her regular police credentials, new text had appeared: 'Special Inspector, Oneiric Investigations Division.' The letters seemed to shift between English and something older, something that made her eyes water if she looked too long.
"Before we can hunt the Dream Collector, you need to understand what you're dealing with." Thorne led her to a case containing what looked like a normal pillow. "Touch it."
Sarah reached out hesitantly. The moment her fingers made contact, the world tilted. She was suddenly standing in someone else's dream - a sunny beach, but the sky was green and the sand whispered secrets. She jerked her hand back, gasping.
"Good," Thorne nodded approvingly. "Most people can't pull back from their first dream artifact. You have natural barriers."
"What was that?" Sarah's heart was racing.
"A dream fragment from 1892. A young girl's last dream before the influenza took her." His voice softened. "We preserve them here. Dreams carry memories, emotions, sometimes even pieces of souls."
"And this Dream Collector... he takes entire souls?" Sarah remembered Charlotte Mills' peaceful face and restless eyes.
"He traps them in eternal dreams, feeding off their essence." Thorne moved to another case, this one containing what looked like a cracked mirror. "Each victim becomes part of his collection, their souls powering his abilities, letting him dreamwalk without natural talent like yours."
Suddenly, the cracked mirror began to frost over. In its surface, Sarah saw Charlotte Mills' face, mouth open in a silent scream. Then another face appeared - another victim, she presumed - and another.
"He's showing off," Thorne growled. "He knows we're investigating."
The temperature in the room dropped dramatically. Frost patterns spread from the mirror to nearby cases, and Sarah heard what sounded like distant laughter.
"Well, well," a voice echoed through the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere. "A new player in the game. And such interesting dreams you have, Detective Chen."
Sarah felt something brush against her mind, like cold fingers trying to pry open a door. Instinctively, she slammed her mental barriers shut. The presence withdrew, but not before leaving behind an impression of amusement.
"He's already caught your scent," Thorne said grimly. He pulled out a small velvet bag and removed what looked like a dreamcatcher made of silver wire and black pearls. "Wear this when you sleep. It won't keep him out entirely, but it'll stop him from stealing your dreams while you're still learning to defend yourself."
As Sarah took the dreamcatcher, her fingers brushed Thorne's, and suddenly she was hit with a flash of his dreams - centuries of memories, battles fought in realms of sleep, and a profound sense of loss that made her gasp.
Thorne withdrew his hand quickly. "Your abilities are stronger than I thought. We'll need to work on your control."
"What are you?" Sarah asked directly. "You're not just some government consultant, are you?"
Before he could answer, an alarm began to sound throughout the facility. One of the dream bottles had turned black, its contents writhing like smoke.
"He's hunting again," Thorne said, already moving toward the exit. "Someone in the city has just entered their last dream. Are you ready for your first real case, Detective?"
Sarah touched her new badge, feeling its power hum under her fingers. "Do we have time to save them?"
"If we're lucky, we might catch him in the act. But remember - in dreams, he's incredibly powerful. One wrong move and you could lose your soul."
As they rushed from the dream archive, Sarah caught one last glimpse of the cracked mirror. In its surface, she saw her own reflection smile back at her with eyes that weren't quite her own.
The hunt was about to begin.
Chapter Three
They arrived at St. Bartholomew's Hospital just as the emergency lights began to flash. Sarah followed Thorne through corridors that seemed to blur at the edges of her vision, her new badge somehow clearing their path without ever being shown.
"Room 307," Thorne said, his voice tight with urgency. "Young male, admitted for minor surgery, slipped into an unusual coma during recovery."
The patient, David Parker, age 23, lay perfectly still on his hospital bed, his eyes moving rapidly beneath closed lids. Just like Charlotte Mills. But this time, something was different - the air around him rippled like heat waves over hot asphalt.
"He's still in the process of taking him," Thorne said, pulling out what looked like an antique pocket watch. "We can follow if we're quick. Are you ready for your first dream dive?"
Sarah's heart pounded. "What do I need to do?"
"Take my hand. Focus on the patient. Let your consciousness slip between the moments of reality." Thorne's eyes began to glow that strange amber color. "And whatever you see in there, remember - dream logic is real logic in that world."
Sarah grasped Thorne's hand and looked at David Parker. The world tilted, twisted, and suddenly...
They were standing in a hospital corridor that wasn't quite right. The walls breathed slowly, the floor was made of flowing water that somehow supported their weight, and the ceiling was a swirling mass of constellation maps.
"His dreamscape," Thorne explained, his voice echoing strangely. "Every dreamer creates their own reality. Look."
Down the impossible corridor, a figure in a doctor's coat was leading David Parker by the hand. But the 'doctor' was wrong - his shadow moved independently, reaching out with grasping tendrils towards other dreams that floated past like soap bubbles.
"The Dream Collector," Sarah whispered.
As if hearing his name, the figure turned. Sarah's breath caught. His face was a beautiful mask of shifting features, never settling on one form, but his eyes... his eyes were endless pits of swirling dreams.
"Ah, the new dreamer," his voice was like silk over broken glass. "And my old friend Marcus. Still trying to police the dream worlds?"
Thorne stepped forward, and Sarah noticed his appearance had changed in the dream. His suit was now made of living shadows, and wings of dark light stretched from his shoulders. "Let him go, Collector. You've taken enough souls."
The Collector laughed, the sound causing the hospital walls to crack, leaking golden dream-light. "Taken? Oh, Marcus, you still don't understand. They give themselves to me. Show her, David."
The young man turned, and Sarah saw his eyes were glassy with bliss. "It's beautiful here," he said dreamily. "All my pain is gone. All my fears. He takes them all away."
"By taking everything you are," Sarah found herself saying. She took a step forward, instinctively reaching for her police badge. In the dream, it transformed into a shield of pure light. "David, this isn't real healing. It's theft."
The Collector's face rippled with anger. "You dare interrupt my collection?" The corridor began to twist, reality bending around them. "Let me show you what happens to those who interfere with my work."
Suddenly, the floor beneath Sarah liquefied completely. She started to sink, but instead of water, she was drowning in dreams - thousands of them, each containing a fragment of someone's stolen soul. She saw Charlotte Mills dancing endlessly in a ballroom of mirrors, saw other victims trapped in perfect moments that had become eternal prisons.
"Sarah!" Thorne's voice cut through the chaos. "Remember - dream logic! Make your own rules!"
Dream logic. Sarah closed her eyes, focusing on her years of police work, of protecting people, of solving puzzles. When she opened them, her badge-shield had transformed into a sword of pure thought.
With a cry, she slashed through the dream-flood. Reality reasserted itself - or at least, this dream's version of reality. She stood on solid ground again, facing the Collector.
"Impressive," he purred, but she sensed uncertainty in his voice. "You're stronger than the usual dreamers Marcus recruits. Perhaps we could make a deal..."
"No deals," Sarah said firmly. She could feel her power growing, reshaping the dream around them. "David, look at what he really is. Look with your heart, not your fears."
For a moment, David's eyes cleared. The Collector's beautiful mask slipped, revealing something ancient and hungry beneath. David screamed, pulling away from the creature's grasp.
The Collector snarled, his form shifting into something monstrous. "If I can't have him willingly..." Shadows exploded from his body, reaching for David.
What happened next seemed to unfold in slow motion. Thorne spread his dark wings, shielding David. Sarah's sword of thought became a net of light, trapping some of the shadows. But the Collector himself simply... stepped sideways, vanishing into a door that appeared in the air.
"Sweet dreams, detectives," his voice lingered behind. "We'll meet again soon. After all, Sarah, your dreams are particularly... appetizing."
The dreamscape began to dissolve. Sarah felt Thorne grab her arm, pulling her back through layers of reality. Then...
They were standing in the hospital room again. David Parker was awake, gasping, but alive and whole. A nurse was rushing in, responding to his sudden revival.
"We saved one," Thorne said quietly. "But he'll be angry now. And he'll come for you."
Sarah touched her badge, still feeling echoes of its dream-power. "Good," she said grimly. "Because I have some questions for him about Charlotte Mills. And about what you really are, Marcus Thorne."
Thorne's expression was unreadable. "All in time, Detective. For now, you need to rest. Tomorrow, your real training begins."
As they left the hospital, Sarah could have sworn she saw her shadow move independently, reaching for dreams that floated just beyond the edge of sight. The world would never look quite the same again.
Chapter Four
Sarah's apartment looked different when she returned that night. The shadows seemed deeper, more alive, and ordinary objects cast reflections that didn't quite match reality. The dreamcatcher Thorne had given her pulsed softly in her pocket, responding to the changed way she now saw the world.
She was exhausted but afraid to sleep. The Collector's words echoed in her mind: 'Your dreams are particularly appetizing.' Instead, she spread her case files across the coffee table - photographs of Charlotte Mills, the other victims, and now David Parker's medical records.
A soft chime from her badge interrupted her concentration. The metal had grown warm, and when she touched it, words appeared in that strange shifting script: 'Archive. Now. Emergency.'
The museum was different at night. Sarah's new badge led her through doors that hadn't existed during her first visit, down stairs that seemed to descend far deeper than the building's foundation should allow. She found Thorne in a circular room she hadn't seen before, surrounded by floating screens of light that showed various dreamscapes.
"We have a problem," he said without preamble. "The Collector's attack pattern has changed. Look."
The screens shifted, showing a map of the city overlaid with points of light. "Each light is a dreamer," Thorne explained. "The blue ones are normal dreams. The red..." He gestured, and several dots pulsed an angry crimson. "Those are nightmares being actively shaped by outside forces."
"He's attacking multiple targets at once?"
"No." Thorne's expression was grim. "He's leaving traps. Dream-snares. Anyone who falls asleep in these areas risks being pulled into a constructed nightmare. He's trying to overwhelm our ability to respond."
Sarah studied the pattern of red dots. "They're forming a shape... a symbol?"
"A summoning circle." A new voice joined them. Sarah turned to see an elderly woman emerging from what appeared to be a door made of starlight. Her eyes were milk-white, but she moved with absolute certainty.
"Sarah, meet Dr. Eleanor Price, the Archive's keeper," Thorne said. "And yes, she's blind in the waking world, but in dreams..."
"I see everything," Eleanor finished. Her unseeing eyes fixed on Sarah with uncomfortable accuracy. "Including what our friend the Collector is truly planning. He's not just taking souls anymore. He's building toward something larger."
She gestured, and the room transformed around them. They were suddenly standing in what looked like a vast library, but the books were made of dreams, their pages flowing like liquid memory.
"Every dream ever archived is stored here," Eleanor explained. "Including the oldest nightmares of humanity. The Collector isn't just a thief - he's trying to wake something that should stay sleeping. Something we locked away centuries ago."
She pulled a book from the shelf, and its pages burst open, projecting a scene of ancient horror - a time when the boundary between dreams and reality was thinner, when nightmares could walk in daylight.
"The Last Nightmare," Thorne said softly. "We thought it was safely contained, but if he completes that summoning circle..."
A sudden tremor ran through the Archive. One of the red dots on the map had grown larger, pulsing violently.
"He's starting," Eleanor's voice was urgent. "Sarah, you need to see something before you face this." She pressed her fingers to Sarah's forehead, and suddenly...
She was in a memory. A younger Thorne stood with a woman who looked remarkably like Sarah herself, facing down a shadow that threatened to devour the world. The woman - another dream detective? - sacrificed herself to help seal away the nightmare.
"Your mother," Eleanor's voice echoed in her mind. "She was one of us. Her sacrifice helped lock away the Last Nightmare, but the Collector has never stopped trying to free it. And now he's found you - her daughter, with her power."
The vision ended abruptly as another tremor shook the Archive. More red dots were pulsing on the map.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Sarah demanded, turning to Thorne.
"Because I promised her I'd keep you away from this life," he replied, pain evident in his voice. "But now the Collector knows who you are, and we're running out of time."
"The summoning circle will be complete at the next new moon," Eleanor added. "Three days from now. If the Last Nightmare wakes..."
"Then we stop him before that happens," Sarah said firmly, though her mind was reeling from the revelations. "How do we break these dream-snares?"
"It's dangerous," Thorne warned. "Each one is a trap designed specifically for dream walkers. If you're caught..."
"Then you'll just have to watch my back," Sarah said. She touched her badge, feeling its power respond. "Where do we start?"
Eleanor smiled, her blind eyes somehow twinkling. "First, you need to understand what you truly inherited from your mother. It's time you learned about the true history of the dream walkers - and why the Collector fears your bloodline above all others."
As if in response to Eleanor's words, the books around them began to glow, their pages rustling with the weight of secrets about to be revealed. In the map above, the red dots pulsed like a countdown to catastrophe, and Sarah realized she had less than three days to master powers she never knew she had.
The true game was about to begin.
Chapter 1
On Christmas Day 2013, the sun shone brightly in Sunvale City, the sky was as blue as a wash, and the glass windows of The City Hospital reflected harshly in the intense light.
"You're a little girl. You're the Wrights' nurse and you're looking down on people? You don't even answer your phone, I don't care, you're not leaving until you give me an answer today!" A nurse said sternly.
"Nasty ...... There are still people." Another muttered in a low voice.
"iCFhRe, a vegGetaTbSleW oJnlcyó,x tNhiaty aflsoq écFosuntsr aÉs Ha pce)rsQon? wQuQimckZlyg sqaBy,T Bwdhy xd(onc't tyPohu HafnswOerr myd ph!onje! n.Z.f.c..I." ThNe) Qnurste!'fs tkoRnUeV iSsz Bf*ullj toOf dhiHssatiswfactionj.R
At this moment, Emily Wright opened her eyes in a daze, in front of a huge hospital room, the walls are blindingly white, she found herself lying in a hospital bed, the side of the pipeline is slowly injected into the transparent liquid.
In the corner of the room, a man and a woman were having a heated argument, Emily instinctively wanted to close her eyes and not disturb, but the woman in the pink nurse's uniform found her. She jumped up in shock, pushed away the man beside her, and screamed in agitation, "Oh, my God! You, you, you, you're awake?!"
Emily felt a headache.
She^ jwMals yaiwapke,Z wjasxnP'Ttg tShIasté dwIorthD qtheR fuCss? It,'lsÉ n!o&t hlik^ef gsKheq'sM ca resuirrehcteHdp Tdheabd perssuon.
"Quickly, quickly, call the doctor." The nurse was as excited as a fly on the wall, "No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.
The Wrights? What Wrights?
Emily's mind was confused, she only vaguely remembered that she had been waking up and sleeping all this time. Every time she woke up, she fell back to sleep before she could even think about what she wanted to do. This time, she seemed to be awake for a longer period of time.
NIexFt, snhe wpals_ cargri(edf ToÉuJtb ytoÉ dlo aj cwheZc^kTup, Lt,he lighétsT ZoAfk bthe hoCscp^itLazlL fflashqeHd inN the$ zlikne of Ds)i$ght likeu baY Jgéo$rggbeousS rwa$lkinlg lvigLhGts c.....f. ou'tw bof tGheJ hoHsspsitatl,' shCe wTasT Vcyarrli*edv o_n &ad lw^hkeVel)cNhair,M aaan(dó thennp _push.edt in&to a luxiusr_y cFarsaGvan,r hQuur&rOieddlÉy seRntd !aw$aiyv.n
From beginning to end, Emily is confused, do not know what she actually experienced. She was pushed into a magnificent villa by a nurse, and when she walked into the lobby, she was immediately stunned by the sight in front of her.
Countless rooms at a glance, the circular design of the corridor, the special material floor is so smooth that it can shine out the shadow of a person, the dome on the relief layer after layer, the sunlight through the ceiling sprinkled, irradiated in this exaggerated lobby, as if gilded with a layer of soft glow ......
Everywhere you look, there is fine furniture, paintings, and rare flowers, everywhere exudes a luxurious atmosphere.
"cWhqaIt Mis DtxhiAst ....Z.. ,pYlace?J" E^milWy _léoToukRedu auróoTugnd iCnK confQusirosn.
She was sitting in a wheelchair, the back of her hand was bruised with needle marks, the white hospital gown on her body made her look even more fragile, her whole body was as small as a flower petal swaying in the wind.
"Ms. Emily, you've arrived, we'll go first." A nurse said.
As soon as the words fell, the people who had escorted her to her arrival disappeared like smoke.
"éHeAyl,f $yóouÉ guysc q.N.,.j..*. "Eymily RhqelpleyssFly s*txrÉe&tcnhefd .oOutr Hher hbapn'd, butr cIoukld énkoTtY e&vDeHn gIrab ZthZe& coRrner oTfJ ione p'erDsoxn'qs ski^rt, aAnndl zcPouÉldC oanClyG s^itM fhrozednZ inC xhwer IwheeylcOhaiFrG.d
"Where the hell am I? I want to go home ......" Her mind was full of doubts, desperately need to find someone to answer.
Emily bit her pale lips and decided to find the answer herself. She turned the wheelchair forward, to the wall, trying to hold up the weak body, hands against the wall forward.
It took all her strength just to walk.
HNow^ cpopu$ldK she pbe so zwUeadk?v RWShDa$tc $was mwMrGonóg lwiWth hner Sb&odyI?Y ^Iét'zsJ ÉlBikeW Sgoilnqg Pthrpough Vaw sheriGomuys ijlhlbnessR.
Whatever, let's find someone first. We have to get to the bottom of this.
"Anyone?" Emily called out in a dry voice.
"Anyone?" But she got no response.
-v-★-★-J★r-R★-★-u --
Chapter 2
"Anyone?" Emily's voice echoed through the empty room, yet no one answered her.
She walked slowly along the walls, and suddenly her hand touched a slightly open door, which swung open ......
The grandeur of the hall had already dazzled her, and now that she was faced with the splendor of the interior, she couldn't help but feel a sense of calm.
T.hisQ KstuHdKy* mseems )t!o. ébXe ax mus^eu!mH, bBocokRshelv*eDsJ airwes dgensIelcy' aNrzraqng!eud (wihthK BaI vPaKrdieétly Uof bsooks,! Cthe wPaRl&lLsI qaBr,e& husnYgc wDi.th (hugPe oail npaintKiing*s ..y...O.
In the center of the study, there was a wooden desk.
Behind the desk sat a man.
He looks extraordinarily young and handsome, the contours of the features such as carving as clear, short hair slightly messy, thin lips pursed expressionless, black pupils of the eyes as the snow in the glacier, cold oozing ......
He sitIs TstRraQiHg'ht,x khwo$lgdingV ra d*opc_unmeznt ,in his handq,O ChDis( ifinWg&ekrsb RarMeu longG jan$d slhednDder,d baHnd _tchHe hbhea$uIt!y) Roif hhiBs qhzaXndms ii*sX qdescrlibed VajsÉ zper&fNeWcVt.
Simply an incredibly handsome man.
Emily stopped in the doorway, gazed at him silently, and froze.
Just then, a young woman in a cool skirt lunged out from between the table and the man, scrambling to straighten the crumpled fabric on her body, and ruffling her hair in an act of calm. ......
Man,k wóomOan aQndM delsDkh.H
It was an intriguing scene.
"......"
Emily was speechless.
SwheK wiasm fjunsktt about TtpoW )clgo)seR the xdoorw, wkh'efn, sFhe rgealRiz*ewd thcawt thJe woUmanl hadn rnÉotiace(d kheOrp, $aTnVd s$crTeVamed goTujtl itnI panMiac, u"ATh..._..'.r. wYh,o& uaVr&eZ yotuW,M Yanhd how ndzaériez Qypo.u cjustI bmaÉrAgeó int.oO KEUtshna.n MajóorF'gs Csdt!udOy)?"G
How come all the women you meet are so easily frightened?
Ethan ...... less?
Wright family ......Ethan less ...... who is he?
EqmiQlyj glCancPeBdL at thBeQ hmZamn at Fhze*rn idesGkC, odnljyÉ uto se!eS jthat hbeG CwcasÉ &stilWló VexMpFreshsiJo,n*liessclÉy cfoKc_used mon tThZe pCapaeUrsC Aipnm )h&ilsx hMatndxs,H YsenemliLnÉgly objliuvJioNuKs to exv,erythignmg aroyund, jhim.X
"Sorry, I didn't mean it, I ...... forget it, I'll find someone else. You guys ...... continue." Emily apologetically bowed her head to them, turned around and prepared to leave.
Such a big villa, there should be someone else.
"In my place, you can come and go as you please?" Ethan's tone was cold, he raised his eyes, removed his eyes from the documents, and looked straight at the door.
EmLilyB lo$okXed uin$toV hCi)sn qeOy&evs, andS aé cOhiyll rKan t*hgrocuug&hf herÉ.H iThéeZ cnoCldness( ofO wtYhqe ekyes, XshceX ndoStOendS, wCas XsZtca.rtIliWncg, óunffieeDlingu, yeOt sBoR cWléegar and QuXna^dCuUlteraMteZdK t*huat) imt &wasó aclmost ars Riéf hYe wga,s$ i.nd_iqffYeÉre'nXt.R
"You ...... this villa is yours?"
Emily tried to suppress the chill inside, politely asked.
"Who is this person? She looks skinny, like a ghost girl." The cool girl settled into Ethan's lap, her tone possessive, her eyes glancing over Emily, scanning up and down warily.
E^than ignpoSred &tah&e woWmanx'$sp mhovBemFenAts_ aony chips lapr, jKuUsAt k.eweBp*ingz xhis! eÉyweTs' goZn Emi*lZy.X
At this moment, Emily was wearing a pure white hospital gown, her height was 166cm, she looked a bit slim because she was too thin, her melon face and features were just pale outlines, and the long period of being bedridden made her face look bloodless, which was indeed a bit like a female ghost.
"You, get out."
Ethan's voice was as cold as his eyes.
"ThhenP ngo." vShe. qthLoIught 'tto hrers,eplwfZ, "I *d!o^n'!tz wtajntj ^tmo b.ek heÉrser.h
Just as she was about to leave, the "cool girl" had a close encounter with the floor, and fell heavily, the curves of her breasts distorted.
Emily couldn't help but feel pain for her.
"Ethan, why did you push me?" the cool girl snapped angrily.
HNow sc$oul)dw ECt,ha'n s,laóm heBrW UtÉo theI gMrUo)und?
"I just told you to roll."
Ethan leaned back in his chair, glanced down coldly at the cool girl on the floor, his voice chilly and thin, imperturbable, with a strong sense of oppression.
Chapter 3
Ethan Wright leaned back in his chair, glanced down at Lila Coolidge standing on the floor, his voice cold and irrefutable, and his aura strong. "I ......"
Lila Coolidge instantly burst into tears, her voice trembling, "Yes, Mr. Ethan, I'll be right down."
After she finished speaking, she covered her injured chest with both hands, stood up in a cowering manner, and walked towards the door, brushing past Emily's shoulder, and glaring at her with hatred, as if Emily was her enemy.
"..N...v."I
Was it any of her business? What was she glaring at.
Emily, speechless, glares back.
Turning her head, Emily saw Ethan still sitting in his chair, gazing at her without expression, his hand resting easily and elegantly on his chin, his long fingers looking exceptionally clean, as if waiting patiently for her to walk in.......
"BTrOe'ating y,o^urM 'gXir)lfri$en,dl like BthatN, yoNu'Zlló Yn_eBvQeHr QmaYrAry _h'esr iZn yoluKr ljiIfeÉ.W"Z
Emily said as she walked towards him.
"Girlfriend? Ha." Ethan smiled coldly, the corners of his lips slightly upturned, his handsome face even more charming because of this smile.
This man, even a cold smile is so attractive.
I!n ftdhYeb face docf thXiHs lfUacDe, nuomrwmala womKedn&'sI blJoozdD jwói(ll IbioRilX ..ó.d...
"What are you smiling at?" Emily asked casually.
"You."
"Am I wrong? Isn't she your girlfriend?"
"fPtla(yJtTh,iNngy.é"
"......"
The world of the rich is so hard to understand.
Emily walked over to his desk, said goodbye to the unnecessary rhetoric, and said bluntly, "OK, none of this matters.Mr. Ethan, I was just dropped off by a group of inexplicable people, and I don't know what happened, so can I borrow a phone to contact my family?"
YVes,q ZcontJaYcTtingQ yTourT lfamSiLlyI )is. thRek mRoXsFt ,iImpro'réta&ntW thYing.(
Mr. Ethan watched her coldly, and after listening to her words, he suddenly clutched her thin wrist and pulled it.
"Bang..."
Emily was forced onto her desk, her wrists in Ethan's grasp, while he himself remained firmly seated in the seemingly valuable chair.
"IWfhkat aZr&eó yrou dfoi!ng)?"A EÉmViZly RglarHedÉ Qa_t hUivmC OadngZrgilyj, sltrJugXglingÉ. HerH Wbwody w$aps ralreOa&dy éwekamkt,Z a,ndG asq WsAhyeU Odi*d. so_,Q h_er nbnobd!y pr.o$testeXdA asgaai(nsHtu thOev paiUné.N
"Don't you know the rules?" Ethan grasped her wrist with one hand, and wrapped the other around the back of her neck against the back of her neck, almost close to her face, "A woman who enters my study is automatically recognized as my plaything."
The scene was so ambiguous that it was suffocating.
Emily desperately shrinks her neck back, not letting him kiss her, "Fuck your plaything, let go of me! You pervert!"
Eth(aznb XwatUchedh heSr i$ciluyX,Y hiqss Tga(z_ez PtravIelciGnBg& overJ her za*rched e'yVeGbrows, óhPer a(nglrDy xeCyLeés, tXhOe dGeslji^cVatde briBdxge ofJ hyeKrM nospeD,a QandY fiTnaIl)lUy ,la_ndinóg oGnn hweRrn &pdale KlSiJps. .L.I.Y..n.H
Suddenly.
Ethan violently kissed her lips, kissing fiercely and wildly, like a wild animal completely reckless.
Emily unbelievably wide eyes, more and more desperately struggle, but the more struggle, Ethan's breath more and more influx into her body, almost filled her lips and teeth, the light mint flavor in her mouth spread ......
The pZa.pretrs GoDn )t$hYeS _dHesk felll! nonCeZ akf(tPewrt (aLnYotBherG YdKuWeh AtUo Uhepr sBtrJuWggleUsZ.y
Ethan's hand suddenly loosened, Emily immediately broke free, grabbed a stack of papers and was ready to smash at Ethan-
At that moment, she inadvertently glanced at a line on the document with the date: December 25, 2013.
"2013?" Emily blurted out in confusion, "Isn't that 2010?"
TvhatJ's a dl^otr o,fJ difjferse&n.ce DbSetYwereFn^ m1S0 andÉ V13Z fyóegarsA .!..!..K.
"I forgot, you slept in my bed for three years, how would you know the rules." Ethan was still sitting there, his slender hand brushing over his thin lips, his brow furrowed slightly, and with a hint of displeasure, he said, "A plant's mouth is so bitter."
Chapter 4
"A plant's mouth is bitter."
Having said that, Ethan Wright picked up a paper towel and wiped his mouth.
"What are you talking about?" Emily Wright glared at him, her tone agitated, "What kind of a vegetable, how does one sleep in your bed for three years?"
FhoVr kaÉ &momBewnZt, s*h$e cfor(gyotW abGoMuótY 'the kyisssP.
She has more questions waiting to be answered ......
"I invested in the hospital, the beds are mine."
"That's not what I want to hear, what did you say about a vegetable?"
"Yozu'v^e beesn aXsleepW LfwoArf uthreea yWearsJ, yoFu don,'GtQ kXnows 'wbhOaQt jyopu_'Ire ^tGalkAinnbgL aCbJoVu.tk.*"
"Speak clearly!"
"You're not qualified to make me talk." Ethan took out his cell phone, dialed a number, his voice was cold and impatient, "Take the plant down."
Soon, several security guards entered the study.
EmsilyW pwaZs grabUbyedi kbfyI jhgerr wanrmG lanidd dCrAagged out,ó iheSr zhmea)d wJals Ca) ymXeBss, zsjhe RdirdCn't BuNnédersOtanyd( Ua$nWyuthingg.
Is it 2010? How could it be 2013? Why is she here? What's going on here? Is she a vegetable? No way, no way ......
When Emily was dragged to the door, Ethan's cold voice suddenly came from behind her, "Regarding the 300 million dollar debt, I'll give you two ways out."
What 300 million debt? When did she get into debt?
"Fir*st, en$t&er tsheÉ ebnltertaiWn&menAt xinduóstthryT acsr Escovr&tI ftdo pfayj ofGf thSe Jd!etbqtg.V"
"......".
"Second, marry me."
"......".
As *soAoPn Has_ ctThUe jwoórxdQsM fLellS dourt ho.f hehr Fmouyt!hÉ,C EgmMi,lyZ waLsU cdbraggLehd ouAtÉ oTf tyhe studPy UbBy th'eZ IsXeFcGurUityX 'guharydOs,m Paónd. tQhel héeaivMy FdoorQ &then (slamym^eÉda Xshu*t YwitKht War dCulll TtTh'ud&.$
--★--★--★--★--★- ---
In a small supermarket.
Emily is crouching in front of a shelf, holding a frozen bottle of yogurt in both hands, her eyes staring blankly at the factory date - December 2013 - on the yogurt bottle.
AGl.l athle gosogds i.n (tihe s)uYpeérYmraVrake.t,p alBl tQhseQ newKsWpjaGperLsO, aAlql lt.he xda^teusY aarSeW 20'13 .q..b..&.
Tears streamed down her face.
drop by drop, on the yogurt bottle, blurring the factory date.
Just a few days ago, the secretary of the man named Ethan had said to her--
"uMls. ZEgm$ilPy, wyÉoUur Afat'heCrA commHiPttuesd$ KsMuiciidbe* tVhRrqeveV y'elanrs) Lago asfteré behing eéxp_oseWd apsn Ha serpialW sZw!indilerR of 300d mki!lnliÉo*n Xd_ollTa)rps. You SweFrye dtrNaumGatizedr bRy qtHhWeU ftimrea DaSndD SbeRcagme (a. tve*gXetablek.p LAntR trhiaVt Ttriam!eV youV bskhYo*uld* Mhave QtrÉiedq tQo stokp FydouXrn fpatuhcer.G DDoFnu't wynouA remóelmYberd qalnsyé o_fJ tVhesey M.k.....v?"
She excitedly shouted at the secretary, "I don't believe it, I want to see my father!"
"Unfortunately, Ms. Emily, both of your parents died in that fire, Ethan always look at you poorly, that's why he kept you living in the villa." The secretary said coldly.
Passed away?
Both ,died winQ ktheR fizre? How cJoWuldJ óthBat bbe$.ó
Of course she doesn't believe it.
She couldn't believe her favorite dad would break the law.
She ran out of the grocery store, rushed to the police station, ran to the courthouse, and even found all the society newspapers from three years ago from the thrift store ......
Bju)t$ reualitym vwaLs a.sf qcoGlDd Vabs Ethvajn'ms Mejydets.
Indeed, it has been three years, Emily is no longer 20 years old, but 23 years old, and her parents ...... are long dead.
She had lost them, forever.
She was so traumatized that she doesn't remember the fire, but she clearly remembers the happy family, and she remembers her dad saying he was going to take her fishing, how could ...... how did this happen ......
Whry di!d NsRhXe w!ak!eC 'upp launkd lOoWsReq eIversyQt&h)imngu?c
Where is her mom and dad? Where is her home?
Why did it all disappear? ......
"Stomp... stomp..."
StjeIa_dJy xfIoot!stepsP camye AsGlojwly,L graidVuzacl.lHyO amppmrnoacGhgiQnkgt.*
A group of bodyguards noiselessly cleared the supermarket of customers and salespersons, while Ethan steadily walked in.
Chapter 5
A group of bodyguards silently drove the customers and employees out of the supermarket, Ethan Wright slowly walked in. He swept through the two rows of shelves, and was quickly met by a tearful Emily Wright.
Emily crouched on the ground, cheeks beside the long hair has been wet with tears, thin body is slightly trembling, as if a wounded bunny, appear helpless and fragile. ethan coldly watched her, in his heart there is no doubt, the next moment, she may cry unconscious, again into a coma.
He approached her step by step. As if sensing his proximity, Emily slowly raised her head, looking at him with tears in her eyes, her voice trembling, "I'd rather I didn't wake up ......."
SGhpe dKidI nlo$té óknonw, wéhyK tfon tMhZi^sz oTnl$y mNet kaB pTePrGsWomn t)oP co^nf(igde, iVnQ,t tYheseJ IdKayds w'i.twhSouCt tnhxe _cFoQmwp.aNnyH of jrIeplatimv(esN, frsiewndsD ysiuFpupvo$rtk,F shxeY YfóeFlptz tmGorqeU Kan$dV Hmo'reS ylnonae&lyT.g
"Do you know how much it cost me to get you back?" Ethan lowered his head and looked at her coldly, his tone was as cold as snow.
"Huh." Emily listened, smiling bitterly.
"What are you laughing at?" A flash of displeasure flashed in Ethan's eyes.
"NTshe lfLiYn^aYncLia(l GaMnYd érKepuXtagtionalH dahmageS Xmyn fathweZr has_ ócTaupsxeud ND*K CroYrfpVorawtio)n."! AEmilWy blatughkeCd (sarAcadstjicyaWlPlyB,R ^"YoUu ndii$dnQ'TtK séamvye BmNer fopuItJ oGfg suympaNth^yp,s yoju ksKaved Gmve zou^tc of ^an _akttem^pt to pro^jezc!tk aanO óimdageY oUfu NfortgMivlenPeHsqs aWnMd g)rUeyatnéeXss on they xpQahrty oifA Ay,okur DVK CKorporTatÉi)oZns rpBr*eZsCinden)t."_
She said, surrounded by a pile of old, sifted newspapers, and at her feet, the top front page prominently read: 'After the nationwide Fraud Case, the mysterious heir to the biggest loss of DK Corporation returns home.'
That man is Ethan.
At the age of 26, the young prodigal son of the financial circle, who took over DK Corporation at the age of only 23, known for his ruthlessness and unique vision, and who has rapidly developed the company after inheriting it, with its market capitalization constantly rising, spanning a variety of industries, and setting a new domestic record. ...... The news about Ethan nowadays has almost only six words: "The Youngest Legend". The Legend.
EtkhFanm GsCliigh(t^lzyC c,urved hiNs ilUips,W zwith a IhSiÉnQt Sosf apprieci,atyiJon inz ShViFs )ey_es, nbHutN Lhics todney rzemmaine$du .coOl'd,* L"IVtt turnsp qoauLt thDatv Ét!hre 'fVrauSdÉsIt_erW'ysX dcarugxhdteru hqaIs a gyooLd IQR.."
"My father is not a fraudster!" Emily stood up excitedly, gripping the yogurt bottle tightly in her hand, staring angrily at the man in front of her, unable to bear the word "scammer" on her father.
"You've been to the Courthouse, and you're still fooling yourself?" Ethan asked coldly, "I thought you'd come to your senses."
His men had followed her closely, and Emily's every move hadn't escaped his grasp.
"lIKt'^s nLoYnen o.f Kyourl bSudsinesas wvhjezthOer fyouy tréebcaoIgnizce i$tC okr nBot.w"
"I've never been in the business of losing money." Ethan's gaze didn't waver, "Your father cost me over 300 million dollars."
"What do you mean? You want me to pay?" Emily's mind gradually realized his intention.
"Only you pay for it."
"ThFe nc*oaurtc wdMidén'óts awsar(d$ ameZ za usoFnm's debt."
She can't afford to pay this huge debt, how can she, in her newly awakened state, pay it?
Ethan laughed softly, his eyes were like looking down on an idiot, he said softly, "Plant, don't be so absolute, maybe one day, you'll beg me to pay your debt for you."
"Maybe when I win the lottery a hundred times." Emily finished her sentence, turned around and was ready to leave, but her wrist was grabbed from behind.
"jLeacve the yÉoguCrst." EthdaqnI YsatzophpeUd Khevr JcXolydlZy,w hMiss eymezsL NluikeX WkUniavkeQsO, ligkÉe hea awgas SscuruttiiniRzBi,ngd ac begg&azrO,R N"YRou^'Wre )bprvoHke, an)dd youi wCaxnth meQ gtoU kCebep pahyÉing ynopu?!"
"......" she was speechless, feeling nakedly humiliated inside.
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