The Daughter in the Shadows
Chapter 90: The Knife at Her Face
She made her way alone to the floor where Madam Johnson’s room was. A man with spiked red hair and a cocky swagger walked straight toward her. As they passed, Elsie’s eyes caught the rose gold Jaeger-LeCoultre spherical tourbillon on his wrist. She faltered. Only 25 of that watch existed in the world. Paul had pulled every string he could to get one. Whoever wore that kind of watch definitely wasn’t ordinary.
She was still thinking when they brushed shoulders. The red-haired man deliberately leaned in and took a deep sniff of her. Elsie saw it but pretended not to. Hugging her clipboard, she walked into Madam Johnson’s room. But no matter how carefully she pried, Madam Johnson didn’t give her anything. In fact, she seemed suspicious, even asking for Elsie’s employee ID. Cursing the old woman in her head, Elsie left, frustrated.
Back in her hospital room, Yunice had balanced a tray across her lap and was working through a stack of SAT prep books. She was determined to retake the test, rebuild her academic credentials. Even without an ID right now, nothing could stop her from preparing. “You’re actually here,” a brash voice cut in just as the door banged open.
Morgan stepped into the room wearing sneakers and a designer tee, his entire vibe screaming hostility. He glared at the young nurse. “Get out.” His expression was aggressive, the kind that made people think he’d snap at any second. The nurse was clearly terrified. But Dr. Joe had told her not to leave Yunice alone—still, she didn’t dare stay. Yunice stepped in calmly. “It’s okay. Go.” Only then did the nurse bolt, scared out of her mind.
Morgan shoved his hands into the pockets of his cargo pants and kicked the door shut with a lazy circle of his foot, radiating that delinquent energy like he owned the place. Yunice didn’t even look up. She just kept working through her physics problems. Morgan slouched his way toward her, leaned in close, and sneered, “Ugly freak. You really think you can ignore me? Don’t want your eyes anymore?”
She looked up at him. “Are you satisfied now?” Yunice lowered her gaze again—and noticed the Jaeger-LeCoultre watch on his wrist. The Johnsons had money, sure, but not that kind of money. Not this kind of watch. Even Paul had struggled to get one. So either Morgan was hiding something—or someone with serious power was backing him.
And when she thought about who might have that kind of reach, only one name came to mind. But after all this time with Wyatt, Yunice still hadn’t figured out what his connection to Madam Johnson really was. The man she was about to marry—she barely knew him. Everything she understood came from secondhand accounts. Her future felt like a black hole. A Pandora’s box waiting to be opened—and who knew what kind of nightmare would come crawling out.
She returned to her notes in silence. Morgan reached over and yanked the tray off her lap. “Don’t pretend you’re some hardworking genius. You think any man would bother looking past that face of yours to admire your inner beauty?” Then he laughed. “Oh wait—Wyatt would!” He grabbed her chin, forcing her face up to him.
Morgan had always been violent, and he didn’t hold back now. But Yunice didn’t make a sound. He didn’t increase the pressure, just studied her face with a mocking look. Then he burst out laughing. “Hard to imagine Wyatt getting it up with that face staring back at him.” He paused and added, “Actually, maybe he can’t get it up. Hahahaha!” The laughter filled the room—sharp and loud—until it died off slowly, and his gaze turned ice-cold. He looked at Yunice like a butcher sizing up a lamb.
That look. Yunice had seen it before. Every murderer in the asylum wore that look. And the fact that she had been locked up in a mental institution for three years, while people like him walked free—it was absurd. She quietly gripped her pen, bracing for whatever would come next. Morgan’s hold on her chin tightened. His expression darkened even more. Then, he slowly smirked, “Maybe I should add a few more marks to your face. Wyatt might like that.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folding knife. With a click, the blade snapped open. Yunice’s eyes followed the knife. Her mind raced. What was Morgan’s problem with Wyatt? If he hated Wyatt so much, fine—but why take it out on me? As the blade hovered closer, Yunice still couldn’t break free. So she opened her mouth and said calmly, “Did you fall in love with Wyatt or something? Can’t stand the thought of him getting married, so you came here to mess up my face?”