Rebirth Into My Second Chance

The rain had been relentless all night, and I sat vigilantly by Lydia's side. Her condition had worsened by an infected wound that had induced a fever.

My worries weren't just about her fever, though. The new maid was in the house, and I couldn't shake off the feeling that she might harm Lydia in my absence. So, I stayed, keeping a watchful eye and offering my company. During a quick moment when Lydia woke up, she brushed off my worries. "Ms. Claire, you don't have to stay here with me. I'll be fine. You should get some rest."

"It's okay. You're still running a fever," I responded, my voice filled with concern and determination.

In a way, I felt indebted to her. Lydia had looked after me when I was in a similar state, in what felt like another lifetime. Besides, in this quaint town of Elmwood Springs, we had only each other to rely on.

"Is it still raining outside? In these mountain areas, prolonged rain spells disaster for those living in the old shingle houses up the slopes. They're isolated, and the drainage is terrible." Lydia's gaze drifted toward the window, a hint of melancholy in her eyes.

I recalled my earlier outing, noticing the handful of houses tucked at the mountain's base, standing alone against the vast, uncaring backdrop of nature.

"My family and I once lived in one of those shingle houses. One year, a flood washed everything away. Then, Mrs. Hart took me in and provided us with food, shelter, education for my children, and work for my husband. To me, the Hart family gave us a second chance at life. So, no matter what Mr. Hart did, we could never hold a grudge against the Hart family."

Her words struck a chord in me, revealing why Lydia never said anything against Claude despite everything he had done.

there no chance for you and Mr. Hart to reconcile? Things used to be good between you two, right? Ever since Ms. Goodwin left the country, it's

against the headboard, not keen on getting into

continued, undeterred, "I know he loves you. Otherwise, why would he act

I confessed, my

pinning my hopes on Max. 'If he was as influential as the

passed, and hope waned with each passing

try to get some

in Elmwood Springs, nestled against

could intensify for a landslide to offer me an escape route. Yet, guilt washed over

and

was, spending the night in the pavilion, listening to the relentless downpour as the security detail patrolled around, their presence a constant reminder of our precarious

rain stop?

be safe from the floods, the mudslides from the mountains could pose a rea danger," I heard the guards discussing