"Mr. Goodwin, are you at Cloudcrest Manor?"


    "I am."


    "I''ve been calling Eleanor''s phone, but she hasn''t been picking up. I wanted to let her know that I''ll be back tomorrow morning."


    "Well—" Joslyn sounded hesitant.


    "Joslyn, Eleanor is sick. She just had a shot. We can''t risk something happening,"n said, his tone serious.


    Joslyn was startled. "She''s sick?" Then she quickly added, "It''s Evelyn''s birthday."


    Ian understood immediately. He hung up, went to Eleanor''s apartment, and expertly punched in the code. Pushing the door open, he found the living room dark and the apartment silent.


    "Eleanor!"n called out as he strode toward the stairs, heading for the master bedroom on the second floor.


    He took the stairs two at a time and gently pushed open the bedroom door. The room was dark, but a sliver of light from a distantmp filtered in, faintly illuminating a small, curled-up figure in the bed, apparently deep in sleep.


    So she wasn''t unconscious, just sleeping very deeply.


    "Mansfield"


    Eleanor was having a nightmare. In her dream, she couldn''t find the chip anywhere and was forced to watch as Mansfield lost hisst chance. The dream made her brow furrow, and a fine sheen of sweat broke out on her forehead.


    *Was she that afraid of losing him? Was he all she ever thought about?*


    nightstand, intending to wipe the sweat from her forehead. But the moment he touched her skin, Eleano''s hand shot out from under the covers and mped down on his wrist.


    Her grip was surprisingly strong, her fingertips digging into his skin.


    "I''ll save you..... There has to be a way..." Eleanor murmured unconsciously in her


    dream, as if desperately trying to hold on to something.


    Two tears slid from the corners of her eyes,nding on the back of his hand.


    The intimate, trusting gesture burned through his chest, leaving a mark he knew he''d never shake.


    He remained frozen in a bent position, his gaze dark and imprable. He could feel the distinct warmth and softness where she held his wrist tight.


    But she thought he was Mansfield.


    After a while, Eleanor seemed to drift into another dream. Her grip on his wrist gradually loosened, and her breathing became even and deep.


    Only then didn slowly withdraw his hand. The back of it was still warm from her cheek and damp with her tears.