Chapter 6

Ava's POV:

Rain pounded mercilessly on my face.

My forehead was still burning, but my face felt cold.

I struggled to open my eyes as a drop of water fell right between my eyebrows.

The ceiling of the servants' quarters was stained with a large water mark, the wallpaper bubbling up, rain trickling down through the cracks.

Half my pillow was soaked, the blanket so damp you could wring water out of it.

Outside, rain was pouring down.

I tried to move, but my whole body felt like it had been taken apart and put back together—every bone ached.

The fever had gone down a bit, but I felt like I was walking on cotton, light and unsteady, unable to tell if the fever had broken or gotten worse.

My phone screen was lit up.

Mason's attending physician had called three times. I'd missed them all.

Around 4 AM, there was also a message—

"Ms. Davis, Mason's condition suddenly deteriorated. She's being resuscitated. Please come to the hospital as soon as possible."

I shot up.

My head slammed hard against the wall, making me dizzy.

I didn't care about the pain. Barefoot, I stepped onto the floor where ice-cold water covered my feet.

The servants' quarters were on low ground. Rainwater had seeped in through the door cracks, pooling on the floor and splashing with each step.

I yanked the door open and rushed out.

In the hallway, the butler was directing servants to bail out water.

Seeing me, he froze.

"Ms. Davis, you..."

"Butler." I grabbed his arm anxiously. "Take me to the hospital. Now."

"Alright, Ms. Davis."

The butler didn't ask questions. He grabbed the car keys and headed out.

The car plunged into the rain.

Even with the wipers on maximum, the road ahead was still a blur.

The whole world was shrouded in sheets of water, traffic lights bleeding into smears of color.

I sat in the back seat, clutching my phone, silently praying.

Mason will be fine!

Rain lashed the car windows like whips.

Three years ago, when Mason first got sick, it was also a rainy day like this.

She was only fifteen, so thin she was just skin and bones, lying in a hospital bed, gripping my hand. "Ava, am I going to die?"

I held her comfortingly. "No, I won't let you die."

Later, I married John.

John's grandfather paid for her to go to the best hospital, to see the best specialists.

Her condition stabilized. Color gradually returned to her face. She could even sit up and joke with me.

This time, I would save her too.

The car rushed through the hospital gates. The rain kept falling, showing no signs of stopping.

I pushed the car door open and ran inside, barefoot, soaking wet.

People in the hallway stared at me like I was crazy.

The door to the emergency room was open.

But the light was off.

The attending physician stood at the door, pulling down his mask. His lips moved, his expression tinged with regret.

"Ms. Davis, we did everything we could."

Rainwater streamed down my hair, pooling in a small puddle at my feet.

"She woke up for five minutes before she passed. She kept calling your name. We called you, but you didn't make it in time."

That last sentence was like a dull knife, slowly carving into my chest.

I opened my mouth and made a sound.

Like crying, but not quite.

A nurse came out and handed me an envelope.

Her hands were shaking, her eyes red.

Mason had been hospitalized for three years. All the nurses loved her.

"She asked me to give this to you."

I took it, my fingers trembling so much I could barely tear it open.

Inside was a note.

Mason's handwriting was crooked, the strokes shaky, some parts blurred by water stains.

But every word was written with force, as if she'd used all her remaining strength.

"Ava, I'm so tired. Don't blame me."

Below was another line, the letters smaller, squeezed into the corner of the paper.

"Ava, take me far away."

I clutched that note and crouched down at the emergency room door.

Tears just fell, hitting the floor tiles, slowly swallowed by the muddy footprints washed in by the rain.

The doctors and nurses stood nearby. No one spoke.

The hallway was silent except for the sound of rain.

I sat in the morgue all night.

Mason lay there, looking like she was asleep.

Her hands were already cold. I folded the note and placed it back in her hand.

"Mason, I'll take you away."

The next day, I arranged her funeral.

I didn't notify anyone.

Someone from John's grandfather's side helped me contact the funeral home. Everything was kept simple.

When signing the papers, my hand still shook. I had to write my name three times to get it right.

During the cremation, I stood outside, watching smoke from the chimney get scattered by the rain. Gray-white smoke rose up and quickly disappeared.

The urn was small. I held it like I used to hold her when she was little.

Back then, she'd just learned to walk and would follow behind me, calling "sister" over and over.

I called her my little shadow, taking her everywhere.

Later, when she grew up, she still followed me—from our hometown to New York, from hospital rooms to the cemetery.

Now she was still my little shadow.

I'd take her with me. Everywhere.

Leaving the funeral home, I made a call.

The phone rang three times before someone answered.

"Ms. Davis." It was a steady male voice—Owen, John's grandfather's former personal lawyer.

"Owen."

"I want a divorce."

Silence on the other end for a few seconds.

"You've decided?"

"Yes."

"Alright." He didn't ask more questions. "I have the agreement on file here. It can be finalized within three days. As for John..."

I said, "Don't let him know yet."

Owen was silent again for a moment.

"Before Mr. Williams passed, he instructed me to do everything I could for you. I'll handle the divorce paperwork. Just come sign in three days."

"Thank you."

After hanging up, I walked into the rain holding the urn.

Rain soaked the urn. I wrapped it in my jacket and held it against my chest.

The sandalwood box pressed against where my heart was, warmed by my body heat in that small spot.

Mason, just wait a little longer.

I'll take you away soon.

I returned to the Williams Villa in the evening.

The rain had lightened a bit but was still drizzling.

I pushed open the front door. The living room lights were on.

Joanna was lounging on the sofa with a face mask on, a variety show playing on TV with bursts of laughter.

Seeing me come in, she peeled off her face mask and glanced at me.

"So you do know how to come back. I thought you'd died out there."

I didn't look at her and walked straight toward the servants' quarters.

"Hey." She called from behind. "I'm talking to you."

I stopped and turned to look at her.

My stare made her uncomfortable. She leaned back.

"What are you looking at?"

I said nothing, turned away, and went back to the servants' quarters.

I closed the door. The room was still leaking.

The crack in the ceiling had gotten bigger. Rain flowed down the wall, pooling in the corner.

The water on the floor hadn't drained, reaching past my ankles, ice-cold and piercing.

I placed the urn on the bedside table, wrapped it in a dry towel, then covered it with an old piece of my clothing before lying down and curling into a ball.

Outside, the German Shepherd started barking again.

Rain hammered the window, loud enough to sound like it would shatter the glass.

Another piece of wallpaper fell, landing beside my pillow.

I closed my eyes. All I could see was Mason's last note.

"Take me far away."

I will.

Just three more days.

In three days, I'll take you away.