Chapter 20

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Hey guys, sorry about the late update; I really do try with this but you have to understand I've got a very busy life and it's hard for me to update as often as I'd like to. I didn't realize that my not updating causes many to stop reading! I would never want that to happen but if you have thought about this please feel free to read it when I am done with the entire book, that way you are not left in suspense! Otherwise, I don't know what to say.

For those of you who are patiently sticking with me on this, no matter how much you want to scream and shake the crap out of me (but not doing it) you don't know how much that encourages me! Please keep doing what you're doing! I can't ever express how appreciative I am of you guys; ALL MY FANS. Thank you so much guys.

So, enough talking more reading. Enjoy!

Anna

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Chapter 20

“Powerlessness is an excruciating pain; it is torture insurmountable.”

- Richelle E. Goodrich

*Hadrian*

“Where is she?!” Hadrian roared as he entered the parlor of the Delmont’s Manor. The butler, O’Rourke, sputtered in indignation at the commotion Hadrian was causing. Hadrian snarled at the man, demanding for his wife.

“Hadrian!” Hadrian looked up and found Lady Delmont’s shocked expression tinged with weariness.

“Where is my wife, Annabel?” Hadrian asked. He managed to reign in his chaotic emotions that were crashing down on him like waves. Annabel’s eyes widened as tears became prominent in her eyes.

“Oh, Hadrian,” Annabel cried, collapsing into her friends arms. “It all happened so swiftly, one moment she was there and the next-”

Another sob tore through her throat. Hadrian felt his own throat closing in on him. He just needed to see her, and hope to God she was alright. “Show me where she is.”

Annabel pulled back and nodded; she led him upstairs into the yellow room where one of the guest beds laid. She looked up at him and then hesitated. Hadrian wanted to shake her senseless, and open the damn door himself. She finally looked away and eased open the door.

He held his breath in anticipation; in the middle of the room, on the bed, laid a small figure. Hadrian clenched his teeth, suppressing the rage that engulfed him whole. He stiffly walked towards his wife’s sleeping form and couldn’t help but realize how small she was in the king size bed, it nearly swallowed her.

His hand shook as he leaned down to brush away the golden strands of hair. He gazed softly at her face and felt tears threatening to come forth. His unoccupied fist clenched at the helplessness he felt at seeing her and not having the ability to aid her.

He was relieved to see her steady breathing and gave a sigh of relief when she let out a soft moan in protest as he brushed the bruise upon her temple.

“Oh, Rhea,” he whispered. He leaned down and kissed her lips gently.

What the hell happened to her?

“My lord?” Hadrian stiffened as he became aware of another being in the room. He turned and found a man garbed in a doctor’s attire.

“Yes?”

“Are you the missus husband?” he asked carefully.

“I am. Lord Hadrian Vale,” he greeted. The doctor nodded and put his bag on a nearby settee. He approached Rhea from the opposite side of the bed and began to do an examination.

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