Reborn in the Enemy's Embrace

"You should... eat." Dexter’s hand was injured. It was obvious that someone had hurt him deliberately. Because of that, he couldn’t use cutlery. He could only raise the plate to his face in order to eat.

After a moment’s hesitation, he put down the plate. He hid in a corner and kept quiet.

I forced myself to put on a kind face and reached toward him. "Let me see your hands."

I had to earn his trust as much as possible.

Dexter was very cautious. After I stretched out my hand, he hesitated for a long time but still showed me his hands.

I took the chance to flip his hands up and down and inspect them closely. Indeed, they didn’t have the red birthmark that my murderer had.

Clearly, he wasn’t the person who actually killed me, but he was definitely related to the murderer somehow! If he wasn’t an accomplice, then he was a partner.

The serial killings, my parents’ deaths, and the memories I lost after the accident....

There were too many truths... They blurred together, yet it felt like the answer was right on the tip of my tongue.

Just what was the truth?

"Does it hurt?" I looked up at Dexter, trying to win his affection.

He was very quiet. His beautiful, large eyes were filled with innocence and warmth.

"Who did this to your fingers?" I gazed at the deep, furling wounds on the pads of each of his fingers and couldn’t stop myself from shuddering.

The Blacks had to all be sick in the head. No matter what, they couldn’t treat him like this.

"It was to stop me... from escaping from here." Dexter pointed at the window.

I looked out of the window. We were on the third floor.

Indeed, with his fingertips like this and the unhealed burns on the soles of his feet, he couldn’t run away.

I took a deep breath, feeling a bit angry. "You need medicine for your wounds. Or else they’ll get infected and rot!"

I went to the door and screamed, "Open the door! If you want him to produce an heir, the least you could do is treat his wounds! Are you even human?" However, no one responded.

Dexter just stared at me. When I began to slam the door with my hand anxiously, he finally said, "Sophia, how did your parents die?"

"There was a car accident," I nearly blurted out.

But as soon as I said that, I tensed up.

It was Sophia Coleman’s parents who had died in a car accident.

But Sofia Miller’s parents were still alive, as cruel as they were.

"I was just saying that. I wish they’d die in a car accident," I explained, attempting to cover it up.

Dexter said nothing. Suddenly, he smiled.

"Sophia..." he called my name again.

I turned to face him.

"They won’t open the door." Dexter got up and slowly approached me.

Subconsciously, I was still afraid of him coming close, so I instinctually backed away.

He stopped in his tracks. He was probably afraid of frightening me.

After a long while, he spoke up, "Do you want to... leave?"

I nodded. Of course, I did. I couldn’t be locked up here to become a babymaker.

I had to leave in order to find out the truth behind everything.

"Once you get pregnant, they’ll let you out." Dexter picked up a pregnancy test and gave it to me.

I was taken aback. Although I knew he was right, how could I... I just couldn’t give birth to a murderer’s baby.

After a long silence, I turned around to observe the room we were locked in. Then, I went through every drawer to find anything of value.

When I opened the first drawer, I saw two copies of a marriage certificate. It was mine–no, it was Sofia and Dexter’s marriage certificate.

"Dexter Black? This name..." I murmured quietly. It sounded very familiar.

I tossed the marriage certificates back into the drawer. After a moment of shock, I finally processed that those were marriage certificates! It turned out that Sofia had married this psycho!

"Sophia..." Seeing me in a daze, Dexter called my name again.

I turned around while flustered. Trying to keep my cool and gentle demeanor, I asked, "W–What is it?"

"I want a baby..." he said carefully like he was scared of spooking me.

"I want to help you leave this place," Dexter added.

It was as if the only way he could think of to help me leave was to impregnate me as fast as possible.

Most likely, Sofia had plotted this for a long time, so Dexter also thought that she wanted a baby.

"When it comes to these things, we can’t rush into it!" I tried to make myself calm down and buy as much time as possible. I said gently, "Children are the product of love between two people. Children who aren’t born out of love are too pitiful. We’re still not that close yet..."

Dexter’s gaze darkened as he looked at me. Suddenly, he smiled and said seriously, "We are close!"

I gaped at him. This was the first time I would call a man "bewitching."

His eyes were bright and sparkling, as though they contained a thousand galaxies.

His eyes shone like brilliant stars.

"Don’t worry. If I run away, I’ll bring you with me," I confronted him. This person carried too many secrets. I had to get a hold of him and make him trust me.

I had to first think of a way to leave so that I could find Violette.

As for Damien and Juliet....

Thinking of Damien, my gaze froze over.

I finally died just as he wished! Now, Damien would have nothing holding him back from living a good life with Juliet.

In that case, I wished him a few happy days with Juliet. I wouldn’t let the woman behind my murder get what she wanted!

Since I had been reborn, I had to let Damien and Juliet experience all the pain I went through!

I continued ruffling through the drawers and found a first aid kit in the second drawer.

Taking out the iodine and cotton buds, I called Dexter over and helped him clean his wounds.

This version of Dexter was a mystery to me. I couldn’t see through him. His mysteriousness and wildness scared me.

But he seemed to like looking into my eyes. I wasn’t sure what he wanted to see in them.

However, I kept having the feeling that he was looking at someone else.

"Sophia..."

He liked to call me by that name in his throaty yet gentle voice.

After cleaning the wounds on his hands, I asked him, "Did it hurt?"

It had to hurt a lot. A few of his fingers were about to fester.

Gazing at me, he shook his head. Then, he nodded, looking a little aggrieved. "It hurt."

I furrowed my brows at him. His current self and the person who tried to strangle me this morning were like two different people. Did he really have multiple personality disorder? "Stay strong. It’ll get better in a few days. Try not to get your fingers wet for now."

He nodded like an obedient dog. "Help me shower, Sophia."

My temples suddenly began to ache, and my "gentle" mask nearly slipped. "Why should I?"

"You’re my wife." Dexter pointed at the marriage certificates.

I sucked in a breath. Was this person really crazy? Or was he putting on an act?

In order to test whether he was crazy, I took out a pen and paper and scrawled several math questions on it.

"What is 345 plus 246?"

When Dexter saw the questions, he laughed.

"You don’t know?" Although I was deeply terrified of this person, every time he smiled, he had this innate... charm. It made people think that he was very pure.

"I’m not crazy." He seemed to have read my mind. Without hesitation, he wrote down the answers.

I was slightly surprised. "Knowing arithmetics doesn’t make you smart."

After pondering it for some time, I wrote down a very difficult advanced math question. In school, my senior and I had spent a long time on this question but weren’t able to solve it. Afterward, we went to consult our teacher, who then spent a whole night trying to come up with the solution.

I guessed that Dexter wouldn’t even understand it.

I passed the paper to Dexter and rested my chin in my hand. "Can you solve this one?"

Dexter took a look and picked up the pen with his fingers stiffly.

I was afraid that he would go crazy if he didn’t understand it, so I carefully comforted him, "It’s okay if you don’t understand it. I didn’t know how to solve it either back then."

This was something I only learned when I got to college.

Dexter grew up in an orphanage, so there was no way...

Before I could say anything else, he had already scribbled the solution on the sheet messily.

From the moment he looked at the question to getting the answer, he had taken less than five minutes.