Chapter 17
This was the third time Julian had noticed Savannah’s unusual obsession with Whitmore Group.
He stood at the doorway of the study, watchling her slender figure tense beneath the desk lamp. The pen in her hand left sharp, forceful marks on the paper. She wasn’t just analyzing data–it looked more like dissecting
g his footsteps echo deliberately.
“Still poring over Whitmore’s reports? Julian walked in with a mug of warm milk, letting his
Savannah’s fingers gave the lainrest tremble before she quickly shut the folder. “Routine analysis,” she said, taking the cup from him with a perfectly curved smile. “Getting to know my future competitor in advance.”
Julian didn’t press the Be
She’d been studying Whitmore Group far more frequently than any other company over the past three months, often staying up past midnight. And every time he tried to ask, she would artfully change the subject–especially after that one–sided encounter in Paris.
“Don’t stay up too late,” he said Inally, setting the cup down on her desk. “You’ve got an early meeting tomorrow.”
Savannah gave a slight nod, but her eyes had already drifted back to the closed folder
When Jalan gently shut the study door behind him, he could still hear the faint scrape of the pen on paper–the sound of pure, relentless floation.
At 3.17 a.m., a piercing scream shattered the silence of the house.
Julian bolted upright, Years of medical training kicked in instantly. The sound had come from Savannah’s bedroom.
He didn’t even bother with slippers.
When he burst through the door, the sight before him made his heart clench.
Savannah was curled in the corner between the bed and the wall, hands clamped tightly around her own throat, her face ghost–white-
Her nightgown clung to her sweet–drenched back Her whole body trembled like a lead caught in a stoc
But what frightened Jullan most were her eyes–dilated pupils, vacant stare, as if she were staring at some horrifying scene.
“Lin!” Judian dropped to one knee in front of her, careful not to startle her. “Look at me–can you hear me?”
No response. Her breathing was ragged and shallow, her lips pale and still.
It’s acute PTSD episode.
Julian made a quick diagnosis.
He gently grasped her wrist—it was clanumy, slick with cold sweat. “Breathe with me,” he murmured, pressing her palm flat against his chest. “Feel this. Follow my breath, Slowly.
He Intentionally slowed his own breath, chest rising and falling in a steady cadence.
Beneath his fingers, he could feel a ring of cough, uneven scar tissue around her wrist.
One minute passed. Then two.
Gradually, her breath began to sync with his. Her pupils refocused, and when she saw who was in front of her, she suddenly jerked her hand away.
“I’m fine.” Her voice was hoarse as she instinctively tugged her sleeve down. “Sorry, Just a nightmare.”
Julian didn’t call her out on the obvious lie. He stood, went to the kitchen, and came back with a glass of warm water. As he passed her aromatherapy diffuser, he added a few drops of calming essential oil.
“Drink this,” he said gently, keeping a careful distance. “I’ll get you a towel”
By the time he returned from the bathroom, Savannah had moved to the coach by the window, cradling the glass in both hands, her gaze lost in the shadows beyond the glass.
Moonlight traced her profile, casting soft shadows beneath her lashes
Julian draped the towel over her shoulders and sat in the couch across from her. “Want to talk about the dream?”
His tone was casual, as if discussing tomorrow’s weather.
Savannah’s fingers idly ran along the rim of her glass. After a long pause, she finally said, “Do you know what it feels ble to drown?”
Chapter 17
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Droma
Amor, traición y muerte
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