C7 'i'll Sleep on the Floor!'

"Let go of me, you bastard!" Lydia's protest was abruptly silenced as a large hand clamped over her mouth, her words stifled into muffled groans.

In the faint light, she assessed the man on top of her, her eyes brimming with fear.

What was his intention?

Was he expecting her to fulfill his carnal desires once more?

No!

She couldn't bear the thought of enduring that suffocating agony and degradation again!

With eyes blazing red, Lydia defensively clutched at her chest, desperately struggling to escape the man's grip.

"Don't worry, I have no such designs on you," the man said, his brow furrowing as he seemed to read her mind. "I'll release you, but only if you promise to stay calm and listen to me, alright?"

Lydia hesitated, then frantically nodded.

As he released her, she shoved him off and bolted from the bed.

Despite the sharp pain shooting up her left leg and the cold sweat on her back, she hurried to the room's farthest corner, putting as much distance as possible between herself and the man.

Haunted by the shadows of a brutal night from her past life, Lydia was like a startled cat, every muscle tensed for a fight, ready to lash out if he so much as moved an inch closer.

"Who let you in here? Get out, now!" she demanded, her voice trembling as she shielded her chest.

The man's frown deepened, his tone icy as he declared, "Tonight, I'm sleeping here."

Lydia was dumbstruck.

What did he mean by that?

Her mind raced with anxiety, her body tensing further. Her eyes quickly fixed on a vase nearby.

It would make a good weapon if needed.

She snatched it up without hesitation.

"The old man from the estate is pressuring me to produce an heir with you... So tonight, we have no choice but to put on a show and share a room," the man explained, his voice reaching her once more.

So that was it.

She let out a silent sigh of relief and carefully replaced the vase.

In this life, Old Mr. Tillman's eagerness for a grandchild was as intense and unyielding as ever.

To ensure Reece's cooperation, Old Mr. Tillman had even resorted to having Ora eavesdrop and do his bidding.

Ora was likely standing guard outside tonight as well.

"Oh." Lydia shifted her gaze from the door to the man. "I'm willing to play along with your act, but I have a couple of conditions."

"Let's hear these conditions," the man said, his eyes reflecting an unspoken amazement at her growing intrigue.

"First, we sleep in separate beds. Second, no untoward intentions."

"Seems to me I should be the one laying down those rules," he retorted with a wry smile.

Lydia couldn't help but feel a twinge of embarrassment recalling her past efforts to carry on the Tillman bloodline. But if her past life's story was anything to go by, Reece probably had no interest in her physically now. She could relax.

Ignoring his jibe, Lydia made her way to the wardrobe in the dark.

She pulled a quilt from the cabinet and laid it out on the wooden floor. "Now that we've reached an understanding, let's decide who gets the bed and who takes the floor."

"You make the call," Reece said, his gaze challenging as he handed her the decision-making power once more.

"I can't risk catching a chill with my leg injury, so I'll take the bed," Lydia stated firmly.

He pondered for a moment, seemingly finding her logic sound, and nodded. He patted the space beside him and offered a half-smile. "Then I can share half of this spot with you."

Only half, not the whole bed.

She inwardly sighed at the irony. He appeared to champion democracy, yet when had she ever really had a choice?

"Never mind, I'll just sleep on the floor."

In the faint moonlight, Reece watched Lydia prepare her makeshift bed on the floor, his eyebrows arching playfully.

She showed no interest in his invitation.

Before, she would have jumped at the chance.

It seemed... she had truly moved on from her fixation on him.

He found some comfort in that thought.

Lying in bed, he braced himself for another night of restless sleep, a torment he had grown accustomed to.

But unexpectedly, as soon as his head hit the pillow, sleep claimed him swiftly, and he drifted into a deep, peaceful slumber.

Lydia lay with her back to him, her eyes wide open, unable to succumb to sleep. It wasn't until the steady rhythm of his deep breaths filled the room that she allowed herself to slowly drift off...

Yet the night brought a succession of nightmares.

In her dreams, she returned to her previous life...

Reece, inebriated, was like a wild beast, forcefully pinning her down and inflicting pain upon her.

Yet, the name he uttered was that of another woman, "Maria, Maria..."

"Reece, look at me closely. I'm not Maria, I'm Lydia!" Lydia insisted, her eyes blazing with defiance.

"Heh!"

He responded with a cold laugh before subjecting her to an even harsher torment.

Pain engulfed her, tears brimming in her eyes before she succumbed to unconsciousness.

In that moment, her sorrow churned within her like a tempest.

When Lydia came to, her pillow was soaked with tears.

The man beside her remained asleep.

She wiped the tears from her eyes and crept to the bathroom.

After freshening up, she returned to the room, only to collapse.

Thump!

The sound jolted the man awake.

He looked toward the noise and saw her crumpled on the floor, her complexion ashen.

"Lydia?"

Getting no response, he threw off the covers and rushed to her side.

His touch met with feverish skin, his brows furrowing in concern.

She was burning up.

Reece scooped Lydia into his arms and hurried to the bed.

In a twist of fate, his lips brushed against hers—pale and still.

The impact left her body aching, her brow furrowed in discomfort.

Her eyes fluttered open, disoriented.