Alpha's replacement bride is destined mate-Chapter 96 I don’t need a father
Emily jumped when she heard the strange man in front of her pronounce her name. How did he know her name? The question hovered like a mist, gathering in her heart.
Her gaze was fixed on those gray eyes, and a familiar sensation washed over her, but it was like a thick veil, and she couldn’t recall where she had seen them before. Sadness swelled within her like a raging wave. Memories fragmented and spun through her mind, yet she couldn’t piece together a clear image of the man. Her brow furrowed slightly, and her eyes were filled with confusion and bewilderment.
He stood before her, his tall, thin figure casting an insurmountable shadow. The sunlight was blocked by him, casting a dull shadow around her. His presence seemed to compress the entire space. His silent gaze pierced her soul like two sharp swords, evoking a thrill of fear that slowly crept up from the depths of her heart.
Without a word, he moved slowly towards her, each step so steady and powerful that it seemed to tread upon her nerves. She could hear her own heart pounding, like a rapid drumbeat, echoing through the still air.
The man exuded an aura of danger unlike that of any ordinary man, a sense of oppression mingled with mystery and coldness. The chill he emitted was like a cold wind from the polar regions, frigid and biting, closing in on Emily step by step. It was as if she could see that coldness transforming into a substance, like a vast net trying to engulf her. She instinctively stepped back, her footing slightly unsteady. She could feel her breath becoming short and ragged.
This man is dangerous. A strong sense of foreboding overwhelmed Emily. She swallowed, and her throat felt dry. She clutched her mother’s photograph tightly in her hand, the edge digging slightly into her palm.
Emily decided that if he took one more step forward, she would fight back immediately.
At that moment, the shrill honking of a motorcar sounded, like a sharp arrow piercing the stillness of the air, momentarily breaking the oppressive atmosphere. A black Rolls-Royce pulled up to the curb, and a black-suited bodyguard exited and walked in front of Emily.
"Miss Emily, the king wishes to see you. Please get in the car." The bodyguard spoke in a solemn tone, blocking Emily’s path.
The car door was open, and Emily saw King James seated inside, looking so frail that it broke her heart. In his hand, he held a white handkerchief, once pure as snow but now stained red with blood. That glaring red, like a sharp thorn, pierced Emily’s heart.
"Your Majesty, are you alright?" Emily quickly stepped into the car, her voice filled with eagerness and anxiety. She reached over and patted King James on the back. Then, turning anxiously to the driver, she said in a hurried tone, "Take the king to the hospital."
The sound of the doors closing was dull and final, and the chauffeur immediately steered the car towards the Royal Infirmary, the roar of the engine mimicking an uneasy heartbeat. As the car pulled away from the street, Emily’s eyes glanced casually out the window, but the dangerous man had long vanished, as if he had never been there, leaving nothing but an empty space behind.
However, she didn’t dwell much on wondering where the man had gone to hell. King James’ incessant coughing was like a relentless hammer, pounding her nerves repeatedly. The white handkerchief, now thoroughly stained with the blood King James had coughed up, stung Emily’s eyes, heightening her unease.
As the car arrived at the Royal Infirmary, several medics clad in white stood outside the hospital, ready. They quickly lifted King James from the car and rushed him straight to the treatment room.
Emily stood outside the treatment room, her gaze fixed on the closed door, as if she could somehow see through it. Her hands were clasped in front of her, her fingers fidgeting unconsciously, and her heart was heavy with worry.
A short while later, Prince Adam dashed to the hospital, his demeanor hurried and his expression one of alarm, like a storm approaching. Catching sight of Emily outside the treatment room, he eagerly inquired, "How is my father?" Emily lifted her eyes slightly and replied softly, "The king is receiving treatment."
At that moment, a male doctor emerged from the treatment room, pushing open the door. Prince Adam seized the doctor’s hand like a drowning man grasping at a straw and anxiously asked, "I’m Prince Adam, how is the king?"
The male doctor, his face concealed by a mask, inclined his head slightly and said to Prince Adam in a respectful tone, "Please come with me to my office, I’ll provide you with more details." Without hesitation, Prince Adam followed the doctor to the office, his steps quick and heavy.
A few minutes later, Emily saw King James lying on a mobile hospital bed. The king’s face was still pale, his eyes closed, as if he were in a deep slumber. Two nurses wheeled the bed and carefully transferred him to a private room.
Emily followed from a distance, but since the nurse did not permit outsiders into the king’s hospital room, she had to stand outside and wait. She stood silently, gazing at the closed door of the sickroom, silently praying for the king’s safety.
A little later, Prince Adam approached the sickroom, and the bodyguards guarding the entrance saluted him immediately upon seeing him. One of them opened the door for him.
Prince Adam entered a few minutes later, his solemn expression reaching Emily. He whispered, "Emily, my father has something important to tell you."
Emily was a little stunned.She had already divined what the king would say to her.Was he really her father?
The thoughtmade her breath come quickly.Her mind was in a state of extreme perplexity.She did not like to admit the fact that she had lived alone for so many years, and that she had never expectedtofindherself in so exalted a position.She feared that if sheconfessed her life would be turned upside down, and she did not know if she could afford it.The thought, however, that the king was sick from his own anger, brought a flood of guilt to his heart.Her conscience continually rebuked her.It was as iftwo villains werefighting fiercely within her, one shaking his head desperately, telling her not togo, to keep on with her obstinacy;The other gently reprimanded her for her selfishness, reminding her that she was responsible for her actions.
In this tangled maelstrom she struggled in agony, as if time had frozen.At last that guilt got the better of her, and she knew that she could not escape again.She nodded softly, full of apprehension and uneasiness, ready to face the king who had made her both defiant and guilty.
