Chapter 7
The train roared past behind Frederick.
After sprinting at full speed, his heart thundered in his chest. It wasn’t until he saw me, alive and unscathed, in his arms that he finally began to calm down.
But as the fear faded, fury took its place.
“Anastasia Sherman! Have you lost your mind?” he shouted. “If someone hadn’t told me you were here, you’d be lying dead on these tracks—just like your parents! Do you even realize that?”
He scolded me the way he always did. Only this time, I didn’t argue. I didn’t even try to break free.
One of his bodyguards couldn’t help but speak up, “Mr. Burke… Something’s wrong with Mrs. Burke.”
Frederick froze, then looked down.
That was when he noticed how thin I had become. I was barely recognizable. My once–glossy hair had turned dull and brittle. Even with my eyes closed, there was something deathly about the way I looked.
“Anastasia?” he called, then louder. “Anastasia!”
An inexplicable dread gripped him. He lifted me slightly and shook me, but I didn’t respond.
That was when panic truly set in.
With trembling fingers, Frederick checked for my breath. The moment he felt it, he heaved a sigh of relief.
He probably didn’t even notice that he always so meticulous about appearances—was now covered in mud.
Then, out of nowhere, blood began to seep from my skin. There were no visible wounds, but it came anyway.
The bodyguard recoiled in shock. “Mr. Burke, w–what’s happening to her?”
Frederick’s eyes turned red, terror crashing over him like a tidal wave. Without thinking, he scooped me up and barked at the frozen bodyguard, “What are you waiting for? Start the car!”
On the way to the hospital, Frederick held me tightly. He wiped away the blood, but it kept coming. In the end, his hands were stained with it.
What should have been a 30–minute drive took just ten minutes.
Inside, a team of specialists was baffled by my condition.
