“I mean, I remember that grandfather locked me in the walk-in freezer, but I don’t remember how I got out. And I have no idea where we are.”
“Well, sir, your grandfather finally agreed to let you out, but he made you agree to his conditions first,” Robert says.
“You really don’t remember?”
Waylen shakes his head, and the movement sets off sparks of pain behind his eyes. He closes his eyes and waits for Robert to continue talking. Robert’s silence seems to last an eternity. Waylen opens his eyes and glares at the butler.
“You were half-frozen by the time we got you out,” Robert says.
“The doctor was worried you’d lose some fingers and toes, but he managed to save them. You’re very sick, though. We were flying you back to the house, but we were forced to land because of the storm.”
“What time is it?” Waylen asks.
“I have to meet Leilani.”
Robert clears his throat nervously, “About that—”
“Am I late?” Waylen asks.
“Quick call her and tell her I’m on my way.”
“Sir, your grandfather took our cellphones, and he didn’t give them back when we left,” Robert says.
“Are you telling me there’s no way to get a message out from this jet?” Waylen asks.
Robert’s face turns red, and he says, “Well, I suppose we could try to radio the manor.”
“Do it,” Waylen says before sinking into a fitful, feverish sleep.
He feels someone tapping on his arm, and he slowly opened his eyes. Robert is leaning over him with a worried expression on his face.
“It seems that Mrs. Bamford is away from the manor right now,” Robert says, looking down at the floor.
“She was seen getting into Mr. Clifford’s car, and she hasn’t come back since then.”
Waylen grabs the washcloth from his forehead and throws it across the room. He tries to sit up, but his entire body feels like it’s made of lead. He can’t even get his shoulders off the emergency bed. He tries until he’s sweaty and gasping for breath. Then he squints at a clock on the wall of the cabin, but the numbers blur and flicker.
“What time is it?” Waylen asks.
“I have to meet Leilani—help me change my clothes.”
“Hold him down,” Robert says to a bodyguard.
“He’s a danger to himself.”
“Get out of my way!” Waylen growls.
“Mr. Bamford, it’s only three o’clock in the afternoon,” Robert says.
“It’s still early.”
Waylen blinks in confusion. That doesn’t make any sense, he thinks. I feel like I’ve been asleep for ages.
“But—” he begins.
“Sir, you have a severe fever, and you’re on an IV,” Robert says.
“You can’t go out right now—it’s too dangerous.”
“Are you sure it’s only 3 o’clock?” Waylen asks.
He sees Robert quickly glance at the bodyguards. The men nodded slowly in agreement.
“Yes, Mr. Bamford, it’s only 3 o’clock in the afternoon,” Robert says again.
“But it’s dark outside?” Waylen says, squinting at the windows.
“How can it be 3 o’clock if it’s dark out?”
Waylen blinks slowly and looks out the window again. The rain falls noisily against the sides of the jet, and the sound makes the pounding in his head even worse. It’s pitch black outside.
“The weather is terrible,” Robert says.
“That’s why it looks so dark. Now, you have to rest if you’re going to recover. Please lie back down and try to sleep.”
Robert firmly pushes Waylen’s shoulder, forcing him to lie back down. Normally, he’s strong enough to fight Robert, but he collapses against the pillows almost instantly. The smooth, luxurious cotton of the pillowcase feels scratchy and rough against his cheek. Everything hurts unbearably.
“Let me see the clock,” Waylen orders.
Waylen can’t be sure, but it looks like Robert winks at the bodyguards before saying, “Bring Mr. Bamford the clock.”
The bodyguard pulls the clock off the cabin wall and carries it over to Waylen. The light clock is heavy as lead weight in his hand. It takes a minute before Waylen’s eyes adjust to see the face—the numbers seem to blur and swirl together. Finally, he sees that the hands point to 3 o’clock. Waylen breathes a sigh of relief and lets the clock fall to the floor.
“Set an alarm for 7 o’clock, and make sure I wake up,” Waylen says.
“Of course, Mr. Bamford,” Robert answers without meeting Waylen’s eye.
“No wait, one clock isn’t enough,” Waylen says, feeling anxiety rise in his chest.
“What if we don’t hear it? I can’t miss my date with Leilani.”
“Mr. Bamford, when it’s time, I’ll wake you up,” Robert says.
“No, set ten alarms,” Waylen says.
“Do you hear me? Ten!”
Robert and the bodyguards exchange worried glances, and Waylen wants to scream at them. I’m fine, he thinks. They’re looking at me like I’m crazy, but I’m fine. The room spins, and a dull ringing starts in his ears. Waylen closes his eyes and tries to sink into the quiet blackness.
Robert’s voice seems to come from very far away, “I promise to wake you up on time, Mr. Bamford.”
“If I don’t wake up at first, do whatever it takes,” Waylen whispers.
“You can beat me if you won’t—just make sure I wake up for Leilani.”
Waylen wakes to something cold and wet on his forehead. Slowly, he forces his eyes open, but the dim overhead lights seem to pierce his skull. Robert is bent over him, wiping his forehead with a washcloth. The damp cloth feels icy against Waylen’s burning skin.
“Sir, your fever is still dangerously high,” Robert says.
“I just checked your temperature, and it’s still 41 degrees centigrade. If it doesn’t break soon, we’ll have to take you to a hospital. The doctor said you could suffer severe organ damage or even die if it continues.”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.
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