Delphine woke up from the pain.
The wine cellar was cold and dimly lit. Her entire body was bruised from the freezing air, with wounds all over her body. Just the slightest movement brought heart-wrenching agony.
Before passing out, she thought Stone Leclair would beat her to death. Every time she closed her eyes, all she could see was his ferocious face and the storm of whipping lashes.
As her consciousness lingered on the edge, her memories flashed by like a carousel. She reached out, trying to grasp the man standing backlit in the distance. But he flung away her hand and walked farther and farther.
Tears poured down, soaking through her wounds, stinging them cruelly.
"Miss Delphine, have some water." The old butler turned on the light and looked at the child battered and bruised with a mix of compassion and sorrow. He carefully helped her take a sip of warm water.
