Chapter 5: You are Reginald's lady!
Ben walked in from outside and heard it, lifting his eyes to look deeply at Heloise for a long time before saying with emotion, "Yes, very similar to Missy, who was also peaceful and quiet like that when she fell ill back then, and even kept graceful when she passed away."
"She was only 21 when she died."
Speaking of this sentence, Reginald's voice was extraordinarily somber, like he was suppressing a certain emotion.
"The young lady's general medical checkup has been done, there are no contagious diseases or aggressiveness, you'll have no problem staying with her, but it's still a good idea to be safe." Ben reported, "Also, didn't get an ID on her."
"Doesn't matter, what identity does a substitute need?"
Reginald snorted dismissively.
"..."
Seems like the odds of it being an old lover are in the majority.
What's this about? Some old lover with schizophrenia died and got a 21-year-old psychotic back as an emotional replacement?
Shit.
So, would she be stuck as a replacement for the rest of her life?
A replacement for Coral and a replacement for the man in front of her.
Heloise mentally cursed a series of expletives.
Reginald sat in front of her, casually took off his coat and threw it aside, and ordered in a cold voice, "You go down first, I'm going to sleep here."
"Yes."
Ben lowered his head, took two steps back, then turned and walked out.
Eh?
What does he mean by sleep?
What's this about?
She was just thinking about it when Reginald suddenly raised his hand and patted her face, similar to patting a small pet.
He stared at her, the corners of his eyes hooked up, lazy and wild, "Remember, from today onwards, you are Reginald's lady."
"..."
Heloise was flat out attacked with boundless chills.
What was his 'lady'? What did that mean?
She tensed up instantly.
Reginald sat down in front of her and his long fingers began to unbutton his sapphire, nimbly working their way down, his shirt lifting to reveal defined muscles, well-proportioned to perfect abs, neither a single bit of flab nor overworked.
It wasn't, was it?
Undressing in front of a mentally challenged "patient", this guy's not a pervert, is he?
Don't take it off.
Reginald suddenly stood up, put his hand on the belt around his waist, and with a movement of his fingertips, the belt was pulled off.
Heloise's breath hitched.
Don't take it off again!
As if hearing her inner growl, Reginald actually really didn't take it off again, only carrying the shirt in his hand, turning around and walking towards the bathroom in a debonair manner.
As soon as the bathroom door closed, Heloise immediately got up from the couch, she had to escape from this place.
She walked over to the window and glanced out into the courtyard, where a couple of bodyguards were still standing with shiny pistols on their belts.
She felt a headache.
Heloise really did have a headache. In BlueWolf Mountain, there was no law, no moral constraints, many people would not be able to restrain their physical desires to seek sensation randomly, but the idea did not dare to hit her head.
She really didn't think that the president of the first consortium actually had a hidden fetish of being interested in people in a mental health facility.
Damn it!
There was definitely no way out through the front door.
Heloise wandered up and down the building, finding a room and reaching out to push open the window.
She looked down, from her perspective, it wasn't hard to jump to the fence and then jump again. The difficulty was not making half a sound so she wouldn't be caught right back.
Whatever, give it a try.
Heloise gritted her teeth and climbed up to the window on her hands and knees. Just as she climbed up, the muffled heavy tramp of feet came from outside the door.
How can he take a shower so fast?
Heloise looked at the door in shock as the footsteps came closer and closer ...