Chapter 7

Unexpectedly, at that moment, the elevator dinged.

Had someone arrived? Louisa's spirits lifted as she looked toward the elevator.

The doors opened, and four men in suits emerged first, lining up in two neat rows by the elevator.

Then a tall, striking man stepped out.

He appeared to be around thirty, with sculpted features that were astonishingly perfect. His entire being radiated an innate elegance and nobility.

Behind him were the club manager and general manager.

The general manager wore a fawning smile as he gestured respectfully, "Mr. Tudor, this is the VIP floor of our Dreamscape Club. Please."

Julian nodded coldly.

Louisa, who had thought rescue was at hand, watched as the group walked in the opposite direction, not noticing her situation.

She wanted to scream for help, but despite using all her strength, she couldn't produce a sound.

In desperation, she swept an antique vase off a nearby shelf onto the floor, causing a crisp shattering sound.

Julian's group stopped and looked back.

Across the distance, Louisa's and Julian's gazes collided in the air.

Her vision was blurry—she couldn't make out his features clearly, only seeing a tall, elegant silhouette approaching her from the light.

She swayed, as if about to collapse, her face pale, her hair disheveled, her appearance broken.

As Julian came closer, his expression grew increasingly cold.

The general manager following behind him felt his legs weaken, stammering, "Mr. Tudor, please don't go any closer. You might get hurt. I'll have someone handle this immediately."

He shot a dagger-like glare at the manager. "What are you waiting for? Clean this up right now!"

As a property under the Tudor Group, this was Julian's first inspection of Dreamscape Club since his return. Everyone feared angering this big shot.

The manager quickly summoned staff to clean up.

Julian ignored them, merely glancing at the shattered pieces before walking up to Louisa. "What happened?"

His voice was low and deep, carrying an icy edge.

Everyone around them barely dared to breathe.

Louisa looked up at him, meeting those cold, profound eyes.

She wanted to speak, but her stomach churned violently, as if a sharp knife was cutting through it repeatedly.

The metallic sweetness she'd been suppressing in her throat could no longer be contained. She coughed up a mouthful of blood, splattering it across his expensive white shirt.

Instantly, everyone around them froze in horror, exclaiming in unison, "Mr. Tudor!"

His people all knew Julian was a germaphobe.

Julian paid no attention to them. Seeing Louisa about to faint, he quickly reached out, catching her in his arms and effortlessly lifting her.

"Teddy, prepare the car!"

Louisa remembered nothing of what had happened afterward.

When she regained consciousness, she was in a VIP hospital room.

The harsh sunlight streaming through the window momentarily disoriented her.

Scenes from the previous night flashed before her eyes like movie clips—George abandoning her to leave with Vivian; David attempting to rape her as she desperately tried to escape.

The physical pain and the despair in her heart intertwined, returning to her body.

Finally, the image of that stranger emerging from the light.

She wanted to see him clearly, but her vision had been dizzy and unstable—she couldn't make out his face.

"You're awake?" A voice suddenly sounded beside her.

Louisa slowly turned toward the voice and saw George's face.

Her expression remained neutral as she asked flatly, "Why are you here?"

George questioned her with suppressed anger, "Why didn't you wait for me last night?"

Was it an accusation? Louisa suddenly felt the urge to laugh. Why hadn't she waited for him?

If she had stayed in that room one second longer, she would have been raped by that bastard.

But she didn't feel like explaining anything to George. She simply nodded, her tone utterly indifferent. "Sorry."

Obiviously, George took it as sarcasm. His expression instantly darkened. "Louisa, what's with your attitude? Just because I took Vivian home first last night, you put yourself in the hospital? Even if you wanted to make me worry, you shouldn't be so reckless with your health."

So he thought that because he had cheated first, she was torturing herself to punish him?

She had barely enough strength to speak, but hearing this absurdity, she actually laughed out loud.

Was George really this narcissistic?

Her voice softened. "Don't worry, you won't have to deal with this problem anymore."

She no longer had any expectations of him.

"Louisa!" Thinking she was still angry, his voice carried irritation. "How long are you going to keep this up? I've already explained to you—I took Vivian home first yesterday only because it wasn't safe for a young woman to go back alone.

"What's between us isn't what you think. She's just like a sister to me. Can't you stop overthinking this?"

"A sister, sure." She smiled bitterly.

So he was still lying. She fought the urge to throw all the evidence of his infidelity in his face. In just 28 days, the divorce agreement would take effect, and she could tell him to get lost for good.

Her tone couldn't have been flatter as she added, "Then congratulations. Your sister is wonderful."

George was too angry to speak, his face frighteningly dark.

Louisa had no desire to continue this pointless argument. Fortunately, a nurse entered at that moment.

She approached the nurse. "I want to check out. Could you please help me with the discharge procedures?"

The nurse looked confused, glancing at George. She had never encountered a situation where a patient wanted to handle their own discharge while family was present.

Louisa understood that look. "Don't mind him. Just take me there."

The nurse nodded, about to speak when George strode over, saying firmly, "I'll do it!"

Louisa didn't argue with him.

After gathering her belongings, she left the room.

At the nurses' station, she asked, "I'm Louisa Forbes from room 1887. Could you tell me who brought me here yesterday?"