?Chapter 705:


    Panic sent Sandra rushing to her side, her hand shaking as she nudged Rosanna’s shoulder. When no response came, she turned tear-filled eyes to Richard. “Richard, she’s out cold.”


    Without hesitation, Richard sprang from his chair, his arms wrapping around Rosanna’s upper body. “I’ll handle this end — grab her legs. We need to move quickly.”


    Together, they lifted Rosanna and carried her gently to the guest room on the first floor,ying her across the freshly made bed. Sandra immediately set to work, unfastening the buttons of her daughter’s nightgown.


    “Step out for a minute. I’ll call you when she’s ready.”


    “Alright, but be quick,” Richard replied as he left, leaning against the door and lighting a cigarette.


    Time crawled by as he watched the clock tick in the living room, each second growing heavier.


    Rain tapped steadily at the windows, a silent soundtrack to the tense quiet inside.


    Soft light spilled over the bed, mixing with the scent of heavy perfume that lingered in the room.


    Sandra sat beside the bed, carefully slipping Rosanna into the gown that had been thoughtfullyid out. Her hands trembled as she removed Rosanna’s nightclothes.


    The cold air prickled Rosanna’s skin, and for a moment her brow knit, her body reacting instinctively to the chill, lost in some distant dream.


    This was no ordinary gown. Every detail — from the sweeping V-shaped back to the intricatece and flowing silk — had been chosen to turn Rosanna into a vision of delicate beauty.


    Makeup came next. Sandra worked with practiced skill, erasing every trace of exhaustion and tears from Rosanna’s face until not a blemish remained.


    When she finally finished, Rosanna looked like something crafted for a disy case — a wless porcin doll.


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    A shaky sigh escaped Sandra as she drank in the sight of her daughter. Then she called out, “Richard,e back in!”


    Richard flicked away his cigarette and returned, surveying Rosanna with a calcting eye. “Let her hair down. It’ll look better that way — I want Axell to be pleased with what he sees.”


    “Alright, I understand,” said Sandra with a nod, her face shadowed with pain, though her hands never once stopped moving.


    Once everything was in ce, they wasted no more time. Carefully, almost ceremoniously, the pair carried Rosanna to the car, settling her in the back seat with the tenderness reserved for something irreceable.


    The engine came alive with a growl, and the car slipped away into the rainy night.


    Damp streets reflected nothing but brooding darkness, as the rain thinned to a drizzle beneath heavy, unbroken clouds.


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