Returning With A Thousand Favors

Chapter 305

When Chrislyn heard those words, her head shot up, uncertainty flickering in her eyes like a fleeting spark in the dark.

“Don’t look at me like that. We are both women, after all. What harm could I possibly inflict upon you?” Marina replied, her voice dripping with lazy confidence.

“No…” Chrislyn’s words stumbled and got stuck in her throat. She longed to explain, but the weight of unspoken truths held

her back.

With a hesitant breath, she shed her clothes, revealing a vulnerability that was both daunting and raw.

Marina’s keen eyes did not miss a beat, recognizing the telltale signs of Chrislyn’s injury etched across her face and actions.

Little did she expect the extent of the wounds.

Chrislyn’s back bore a tapestry of green and purple bruises, resembling marks left by a merciless lash. Each scar seemed to whisper a haunting tale of pain and suffering.

The image of the masked man’s cane flashed through Marina’s mind like a haunting specter.

Holding her breath, Marina gingerly lowered herself beside Chrislyn, her every movement fraught with unspoken tension.

A closer examination revealed that Chrislyn’s injuries concealed a more profound, darker truth. Her skin bore the cruel imprints of old scars as if her body had weathered a storm of enduring abuse.

“Did Mr. Fermon inflict these wounds?” Marina’s voice betrayed an unintended frostiness.

Chrislyn’s response remained unflinching, her tone unyielding in the face of adversity. “I made a mistake, and punishment is but a natural consequence.”

Marina’s eyes narrowed, her expression turning frigid at Chrislyn’s stoic resolve. “Is it natural for you to be willing, even if it means being beaten to death?” she questioned.

“My life belongs to the household. Even if I die, I will not hesitate,” Chrislyn replied resolutely.

Marina’s frustration surged like a tempest, causing her to question her own actions. Then why did I labor tirelessly to heal you? Must I mend your wounds only to send you back into the abyss of brutality?”

Chrislyn hesitated, her voice wavering with unspoken vulnerability. “I… I never asked for your aid.”

Marina’s temper flared, a flicker of amusement mingling with her ire. “Do I appear to meddle in your affairs? Perhaps I should have you kneel and tend to the lawns instead?”

“That duty lies entrusted to me by the household. I must fulfill it, regardless of the cost,” Chrislyn asserted, her voice carrying the weight of her duty and unyielding loyalty.

Marina’s anger reached its peak, and she flung the ointment in her hand onto Chrislyn’s lap, the motion laced with her silent. resignation. Standing abruptly, she made it clear she did not intend to intervene anymore.

There was no noticeable change on Chrislyn’s face as she calmly put on her clothes, then stood up and walked toward the door.

However, her figure appeared hunched, and her steps seemed somewhat unsteady,

Marina furrowed her brows tightly but refrained from stopping her.

But just as Chrislyn reached the door, she suddenly halted, then turned around and approached Marina.

Marina’s eyes flickered, uncertainty mingling with a glimmer of anticipation.

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However, Chrislyn’s actions surprised Marina. She bent down, meticulously rearranging the first aid kit that Marina had opened, her movements graceful and efficient. It was as if the world around her ceased to exist, oblivious to Marina’s presence.

Marina’s ruby–red lips contorted into a rigid line, hinting at the storm brewing within.

But in a deliberate move, Chrislyn lowered her voice, its hushed tones reaching Marina’s cars.

“Don’t defy Mr. Fermon….” The words slipped from Chrislyn’s lips, barely audible, as she continued walking without missing

a beat.

It was a fleeting utterance that left Marina questioning her own hearing.

Yet, Marina was certain that those words had indeed escaped Chrislyn’s lips.

Marina pondered, “Is she warning me? But why? I am on Mr. Fermon’s side, aren’t I?”

A flicker of uncertainty danced in Marina’s gaze, a hint of intrigue mingling with her doubts. Belongs to © n0velDrama.Org.

From that day onward, Mr. Fermon ceased his visits, no longer seeking her presence.

However, Chrislyn had knelt on the lawn and mowed it for three days.

Marina unintentionally caught wind of this revelation by eavesdropping on the villa’s murmurs.

Initially, Mr. Fermon had planned to punish Chrislyn for only one day.

Yet, because she had abandoned her duties, two additional days were tacked on.

Marina chose to remain unfazed by the news, continuing her leisurely existence..

On one aimless day, Marina wandered into the mansion and unconsciously ended up near the attic.

A locked room stood guard within the attic’s confines, enticing Marina’s senses.

However, the maid promptly intercepted her, blocking her path.

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“Miss Bailey, you mustn’t proceed any further, the maid cautioned.

”

Curiosity piqued, Marina queried, “Why is that?”

The maid’s gaze averted, her voice laced with trepidation. “It is Mr. Fermon’s order. None are permitted to approach that place, the maid replied, her head hung low as if harboring an innate aversion to the locked room.

Marina narrowed her eyes, studying the maid for a fleeting moment.

Instead of forcing her way in, she turned on her heel, departing from the scene.

Yet, under the shroud of night, Marina surreptitiously rose from her bed, silent as a wraith.

Her gaze drified towards the ceiling monitor, a device she had already manipulated since her discovery.

Rendered useless, it now served as nothing more than a hollow ornament.

Descending from the bed, Marina approached the balcony with purpose.

Rather than venturing outside, she clung to a water pipe, scaling it with agility and resolve. Gone was her usual air of frailty, replaced by a newfound strength.

Mr. Fermon, in his pretense of indulgence, had tampered with the food by adding drugs aimed to sap Marina of her vigor. Yet, he had underestimated Marina’s resilience. Her body, forged through rigorous training, had developed a resistance to

standard drugs. Only specially concocted potions could have any effect on her.

Everything in the past few days had been a charade, a ruse devised by Marina,

Her true objective lay in unraveling the enigma that was Mr. Fermon, exposing his true identity and intentions.

The attic she stumbled upon held the promise of answers.

In less than a minute, Marina ascended to the attic’s height, relying on the water pipe as her guide.

Marina Bailey had already climbed up the pipe to the attic.

Originally, she planned to breach the sealed room through its window, but someone had secured it from within.

Adapting swiftly, Marina altered her strategy, leaping into the corridor from a neighboring window.

Moving cautiously, she drew nearer to the tightly shut door.

A vintage lock adorned the door, its ancient mechanisms holding secrets within.

Marina’s dark eyes narrowed, retrieving a wire–like tool from her pocket. It was a precaution she had taken, foreseeing a

situation such as this.

Bending down slightly, Marina deftly inserted the wire–like object into the keyhole.

After a moment’s finesse, a resounding “click” echoed through the corridor, the door’s lock surrendering to her tenacity.