After the chaos subsided, the bedroom returned to an eerie calm.


    M, her clothes disheveled, curled up on the bed, her eyes vacant as she stared into the air. It took a while for her to gather her senses.


    Slowly, she sat up, her feet touching the floor. After taking a few deep breaths to steady herself, she moved to the bathroom and locked the door behind her.


    In the mirror, a woman stared back at her, her face and body smeared with blood, her eyes red and swollen.


    She turned on the faucet, letting the water cascade over her blood-stained hands, scrubbing them vigorously, but the blood wouldn''t wash away.


    Her eyes flickered around the bathroom.


    She stepped under the shower, turning it on without checking the temperature, letting the water pour over her head. She scrubbed at her face and body, unable


    to stop her shivering, her mind racing with chaotic thoughts.


    Had she really hit Lysander?


    Did she knock him out? There was so much blood... Had she killed him?


    Would she end up in prison?


    The terrifying thoughts tumbled through her mind uncontrobly, the cold water washing over her. Even though the blood had long been washed away, she looked at her reflection and still felt covered in it.


    It couldn''t be washed away.


    Washed away...


    Meanwhile...


    The car carrying Lysander sped towards the hospital, where he was rushed into the emergency room on a stretcher.


    Conrad, upon receiving the call, didn''t dare inform Felicity. He hurried to the hospital, taking their child to their family home first.


    Leonard was left to oversee things at the hospital.


    Hearing the news, Giselle arrived with her mother, Rosalind Harvey, and they were joined by many of Lysander''s friends.


    As chaos ensued at the hospital, an unexpected group arrived at Crimson Gardens.


    Several ck cars pulled up in front of the mansion. A refined man, wearing a white tailored suit and silver-rimmed sses, stepped out.


    Bodyguards led the way.


    The man ascended the stairs slowly.


    The bodyguards at the front shed with those guarding the upstairs doors. The man adjusted his sses with a gentle smile, standing calmly on the staircase.


    Harper attempted to intervene but was blocked by more of the man''s bodyguards. There were many of them, and they quickly subdued the few guards, smashing the bedroom lock to clear a path.


    Only then did the man step forward, adjusting his suit before gently pushing the door open.


    His gaze swept the room, pausing momentarily on the bloodstained bed before ncing towards the bathroom, where the sound of running water emanated.


    He walked over and knocked gently on the door.


    Inside, the noise paused momentarily, the water''s sound grew louder, but the door remained shut.


    The man didn''t try to turn the handle; instead, he knocked again, slowly and deliberately, before speaking softly.


    "Mimi, it''s me."


    The water continued for a few seconds before it stopped, followed by a long silence from within.


    The man didn''t rush, waiting patiently at the door.


    Eventually, the door opened a crack, and cold air seeped out. M, drenched from head to toe, stood behind the half-open door, disbelief etched on her face as she looked at the man outside.


    "...Forrest?"


    "Yes, I''m back."


    Forrest''s voice was gentle as he reached out towards the disheveled woman.


    But the door mmed shut.


    M stood behind it, her hand gripping the doorknob, trembling slightly. She turned her head towards the mirror.


    The reflection showed a woman in torn, soaked clothes, still stained with faint traces of blood, looking utterly defeated.


    She had imagined seeing Forrest again, but never like this.


    So utterly broken...


    Forrest gazed at the door that had once again closed, showing no change in expression.


    He didn''t rush her. Instead, he unfastened his belt, removed his white suit jacket


    to reveal a gray shirt underneath, and knocked gently again, always the same three steady knocks.


    "Mimi, clothes."


    His voice remained soft and calm, but the door stayed shut.


    Separated by the door, silencey thick as snow.


    Forrest stood there, his hand resting lightly on the frosted ss door, his forehead


    against it, speaking softly, his breath causing the ss to fog.


    "Mimi,e with me. Let me help you, please."