Legată de sânge și secrete

Chapter One

The body lay in perfect repose on the Victorian fainting couch, looking more like a sleeping beauty than a victim. Detective Sarah Chen had seen enough death in her ten years with the Metropolitan Police's Special Cases Unit to know that natural death never looked this peaceful. Something was very, very wrong.

        'No signs of struggle, no marks on the body, and yet...' She leaned closer, studying the victim's face. Charlotte Mills, aged 28, was found by her roommate this morning, apparently having passed away in her sleep. Her expression was serene, almost blissful, but her eyes - those were what caught Sarah's attention. Behind the closed lids, her eyes were moving rapidly, as if still deep in REM sleep.

        "You see it too, don't you?" The voice came from behind her, rich and cultured with a slight Irish lilt. "She's still dreaming."

        Sarah turned to find a tall man in an impeccably tailored charcoal suit standing in the doorway. He hadn't been there a moment ago, she was certain of it. His dark hair was streaked with silver at the temples, and his eyes were an unusual shade of amber that seemed to shift color in the light.

        "This is a closed crime scene," she said firmly, her hand instinctively moving toward her weapon. "How did you get in here?"

        He smiled, but it didn't reach those strange eyes. "Dr. Marcus Thorne," he said, pulling out a card that somehow both looked official and seemed to shimmer slightly. "I'm a consulting specialist with the Department's new Oneiric Phenomena Division."

        "The what division?" Sarah frowned, taking the card. The moment her fingers touched it, she felt a slight electric tingle, and the letters seemed to rearrange themselves before her eyes.

        "Dreams, Detective Chen. We investigate crimes involving dreams." He moved into the room with fluid grace, his attention fixed on the victim. "And this is the third one this month."

        Sarah's mind raced. There had been two other deaths recently - both young women, both found peacefully dead in their sleep. She'd seen the reports but hadn't made the connection until now. "How do you know about those cases?"

        "Because I've been tracking the killer for quite some time." Thorne knelt beside the body, his eyes now definitely more gold than amber. "He's what we call a Dream Collector - someone who has learned to enter and steal dreams. But this one has developed a taste for more than just dreams. He's taking souls."

        Under normal circumstances, Sarah would have dismissed such talk as nonsense. But there was something about the scene, about the victim's still-moving eyes, about Thorne himself, that made the impossible seem suddenly plausible.

        "If you're tracking him," she said carefully, "why haven't you caught him?"

        Thorne's expression darkened. "Because he only appears in dreams. The physical world is my domain, but his... his is the realm of sleep. To catch him, we need someone who can walk between both worlds." He turned those unsettling eyes on her. "Someone like you."

        "Me?" Sarah almost laughed, but the sound died in her throat as memories she'd long suppressed began to surface. The dreams that felt too real, the nights she'd awakened to find objects moved in her room, the way she sometimes knew things she couldn't possibly know...

        "You've always known you were different, haven't you, Detective?" Thorne's voice was gentle now. "The dreams that come true, the hunches that turn out to be right, the way you can sometimes see how people died just by touching objects they owned..."

        Sarah took an involuntary step back. "How do you know about that?"

        "Because I've been looking for someone like you. A Natural - someone born with the ability to cross the threshold between waking and dreaming." He gestured to the victim. "Charlotte here won't be his last. There will be others, and their souls will remain trapped in an eternal dream unless we stop him."

        Just then, the victim's hand twitched, her fingers moving as if writing something. Sarah moved closer, watching as invisible words were traced in the air. Thorne pulled out what looked like an antique monocle and held it up. Through its lens, golden letters shimmered in the air where Charlotte's fingers moved.

        "Help me," Thorne read aloud. "He's coming for the others."

        Sarah felt a chill run down her spine. She looked at the victim's peaceful face, at those restlessly moving eyes, and made a decision that would change her life forever.

        "Tell me what I need to do."

        Thorne's smile was grim. "First, you need to learn to control your abilities. Then..." he held up the monocle, through which Sarah could now see strange symbols glowing all around the room, "you need to learn to hunt in dreams."

        Outside the Victorian townhouse, storm clouds gathered, and Sarah Chen, homicide detective and newly discovered dream walker, took her first step into a world where nightmares were real, and death was just another kind of sleep.

Chapter Two

The basement of the Natural History Museum was the last place Sarah expected to find the headquarters of a secret dream investigation unit. Yet here she was, following Thorne through a maze of storage rooms filled with artifacts that seemed to pulse with their own inner light.

        "The mundane world only sees what it expects to see," Thorne explained, using an ornate key to unlock a heavy wooden door marked 'Private Collection.' "To them, this is just museum storage. To us, it's the largest collection of dream artifacts in the Western Hemisphere."

        The room beyond defied physics. It stretched impossibly far, filled with glass cases containing everything from ancient masks to modern-looking devices. Floating orbs of soft light illuminated collections of bottled dreams - actual dreams, swirling like liquid mercury behind glass.

        "Your badge, Detective," Thorne held out his hand. Sarah hesitated before handing over her police credentials. He placed it on a strange device that looked like a Victorian music box crossed with a computer. When he returned the badge, it felt different - heavier, somehow more real.

        "Now you'll be able to access both worlds officially," he said. "Look at it again."

        The badge had changed. Alongside her regular police credentials, new text had appeared: 'Special Inspector, Oneiric Investigations Division.' The letters seemed to shift between English and something older, something that made her eyes water if she looked too long.

        "Before we can hunt the Dream Collector, you need to understand what you're dealing with." Thorne led her to a case containing what looked like a normal pillow. "Touch it."

        Sarah reached out hesitantly. The moment her fingers made contact, the world tilted. She was suddenly standing in someone else's dream - a sunny beach, but the sky was green and the sand whispered secrets. She jerked her hand back, gasping.

        "Good," Thorne nodded approvingly. "Most people can't pull back from their first dream artifact. You have natural barriers."

        "What was that?" Sarah's heart was racing.

        "A dream fragment from 1892. A young girl's last dream before the influenza took her." His voice softened. "We preserve them here. Dreams carry memories, emotions, sometimes even pieces of souls."

        "And this Dream Collector... he takes entire souls?" Sarah remembered Charlotte Mills' peaceful face and restless eyes.

        "He traps them in eternal dreams, feeding off their essence." Thorne moved to another case, this one containing what looked like a cracked mirror. "Each victim becomes part of his collection, their souls powering his abilities, letting him dreamwalk without natural talent like yours."

        Suddenly, the cracked mirror began to frost over. In its surface, Sarah saw Charlotte Mills' face, mouth open in a silent scream. Then another face appeared - another victim, she presumed - and another.

        "He's showing off," Thorne growled. "He knows we're investigating."

        The temperature in the room dropped dramatically. Frost patterns spread from the mirror to nearby cases, and Sarah heard what sounded like distant laughter.

        "Well, well," a voice echoed through the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere. "A new player in the game. And such interesting dreams you have, Detective Chen."

        Sarah felt something brush against her mind, like cold fingers trying to pry open a door. Instinctively, she slammed her mental barriers shut. The presence withdrew, but not before leaving behind an impression of amusement.

        "He's already caught your scent," Thorne said grimly. He pulled out a small velvet bag and removed what looked like a dreamcatcher made of silver wire and black pearls. "Wear this when you sleep. It won't keep him out entirely, but it'll stop him from stealing your dreams while you're still learning to defend yourself."

        As Sarah took the dreamcatcher, her fingers brushed Thorne's, and suddenly she was hit with a flash of his dreams - centuries of memories, battles fought in realms of sleep, and a profound sense of loss that made her gasp.

        Thorne withdrew his hand quickly. "Your abilities are stronger than I thought. We'll need to work on your control."

        "What are you?" Sarah asked directly. "You're not just some government consultant, are you?"

        Before he could answer, an alarm began to sound throughout the facility. One of the dream bottles had turned black, its contents writhing like smoke.

        "He's hunting again," Thorne said, already moving toward the exit. "Someone in the city has just entered their last dream. Are you ready for your first real case, Detective?"

        Sarah touched her new badge, feeling its power hum under her fingers. "Do we have time to save them?"

        "If we're lucky, we might catch him in the act. But remember - in dreams, he's incredibly powerful. One wrong move and you could lose your soul."

        As they rushed from the dream archive, Sarah caught one last glimpse of the cracked mirror. In its surface, she saw her own reflection smile back at her with eyes that weren't quite her own.

        The hunt was about to begin.

Chapter Two

The basement of the Natural History Museum was the last place Sarah expected to find the headquarters of a secret dream investigation unit. Yet here she was, following Thorne through a maze of storage rooms filled with artifacts that seemed to pulse with their own inner light.

        "The mundane world only sees what it expects to see," Thorne explained, using an ornate key to unlock a heavy wooden door marked 'Private Collection.' "To them, this is just museum storage. To us, it's the largest collection of dream artifacts in the Western Hemisphere."

        The room beyond defied physics. It stretched impossibly far, filled with glass cases containing everything from ancient masks to modern-looking devices. Floating orbs of soft light illuminated collections of bottled dreams - actual dreams, swirling like liquid mercury behind glass.

        "Your badge, Detective," Thorne held out his hand. Sarah hesitated before handing over her police credentials. He placed it on a strange device that looked like a Victorian music box crossed with a computer. When he returned the badge, it felt different - heavier, somehow more real.

        "Now you'll be able to access both worlds officially," he said. "Look at it again."

        The badge had changed. Alongside her regular police credentials, new text had appeared: 'Special Inspector, Oneiric Investigations Division.' The letters seemed to shift between English and something older, something that made her eyes water if she looked too long.

        "Before we can hunt the Dream Collector, you need to understand what you're dealing with." Thorne led her to a case containing what looked like a normal pillow. "Touch it."

        Sarah reached out hesitantly. The moment her fingers made contact, the world tilted. She was suddenly standing in someone else's dream - a sunny beach, but the sky was green and the sand whispered secrets. She jerked her hand back, gasping.

        "Good," Thorne nodded approvingly. "Most people can't pull back from their first dream artifact. You have natural barriers."

        "What was that?" Sarah's heart was racing.

        "A dream fragment from 1892. A young girl's last dream before the influenza took her." His voice softened. "We preserve them here. Dreams carry memories, emotions, sometimes even pieces of souls."

        "And this Dream Collector... he takes entire souls?" Sarah remembered Charlotte Mills' peaceful face and restless eyes.

        "He traps them in eternal dreams, feeding off their essence." Thorne moved to another case, this one containing what looked like a cracked mirror. "Each victim becomes part of his collection, their souls powering his abilities, letting him dreamwalk without natural talent like yours."

        Suddenly, the cracked mirror began to frost over. In its surface, Sarah saw Charlotte Mills' face, mouth open in a silent scream. Then another face appeared - another victim, she presumed - and another.

        "He's showing off," Thorne growled. "He knows we're investigating."

        The temperature in the room dropped dramatically. Frost patterns spread from the mirror to nearby cases, and Sarah heard what sounded like distant laughter.

        "Well, well," a voice echoed through the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere. "A new player in the game. And such interesting dreams you have, Detective Chen."

        Sarah felt something brush against her mind, like cold fingers trying to pry open a door. Instinctively, she slammed her mental barriers shut. The presence withdrew, but not before leaving behind an impression of amusement.

        "He's already caught your scent," Thorne said grimly. He pulled out a small velvet bag and removed what looked like a dreamcatcher made of silver wire and black pearls. "Wear this when you sleep. It won't keep him out entirely, but it'll stop him from stealing your dreams while you're still learning to defend yourself."

        As Sarah took the dreamcatcher, her fingers brushed Thorne's, and suddenly she was hit with a flash of his dreams - centuries of memories, battles fought in realms of sleep, and a profound sense of loss that made her gasp.

        Thorne withdrew his hand quickly. "Your abilities are stronger than I thought. We'll need to work on your control."

        "What are you?" Sarah asked directly. "You're not just some government consultant, are you?"

        Before he could answer, an alarm began to sound throughout the facility. One of the dream bottles had turned black, its contents writhing like smoke.

        "He's hunting again," Thorne said, already moving toward the exit. "Someone in the city has just entered their last dream. Are you ready for your first real case, Detective?"

        Sarah touched her new badge, feeling its power hum under her fingers. "Do we have time to save them?"

        "If we're lucky, we might catch him in the act. But remember - in dreams, he's incredibly powerful. One wrong move and you could lose your soul."

        As they rushed from the dream archive, Sarah caught one last glimpse of the cracked mirror. In its surface, she saw her own reflection smile back at her with eyes that weren't quite her own.

        The hunt was about to begin.

Chapter Three

They arrived at St. Bartholomew's Hospital just as the emergency lights began to flash. Sarah followed Thorne through corridors that seemed to blur at the edges of her vision, her new badge somehow clearing their path without ever being shown.

        "Room 307," Thorne said, his voice tight with urgency. "Young male, admitted for minor surgery, slipped into an unusual coma during recovery."

        The patient, David Parker, age 23, lay perfectly still on his hospital bed, his eyes moving rapidly beneath closed lids. Just like Charlotte Mills. But this time, something was different - the air around him rippled like heat waves over hot asphalt.

        "He's still in the process of taking him," Thorne said, pulling out what looked like an antique pocket watch. "We can follow if we're quick. Are you ready for your first dream dive?"

        Sarah's heart pounded. "What do I need to do?"

        "Take my hand. Focus on the patient. Let your consciousness slip between the moments of reality." Thorne's eyes began to glow that strange amber color. "And whatever you see in there, remember - dream logic is real logic in that world."

        Sarah grasped Thorne's hand and looked at David Parker. The world tilted, twisted, and suddenly...

        They were standing in a hospital corridor that wasn't quite right. The walls breathed slowly, the floor was made of flowing water that somehow supported their weight, and the ceiling was a swirling mass of constellation maps.

        "His dreamscape," Thorne explained, his voice echoing strangely. "Every dreamer creates their own reality. Look."

        Down the impossible corridor, a figure in a doctor's coat was leading David Parker by the hand. But the 'doctor' was wrong - his shadow moved independently, reaching out with grasping tendrils towards other dreams that floated past like soap bubbles.

        "The Dream Collector," Sarah whispered.

        As if hearing his name, the figure turned. Sarah's breath caught. His face was a beautiful mask of shifting features, never settling on one form, but his eyes... his eyes were endless pits of swirling dreams.

        "Ah, the new dreamer," his voice was like silk over broken glass. "And my old friend Marcus. Still trying to police the dream worlds?"

        Thorne stepped forward, and Sarah noticed his appearance had changed in the dream. His suit was now made of living shadows, and wings of dark light stretched from his shoulders. "Let him go, Collector. You've taken enough souls."

        The Collector laughed, the sound causing the hospital walls to crack, leaking golden dream-light. "Taken? Oh, Marcus, you still don't understand. They give themselves to me. Show her, David."

        The young man turned, and Sarah saw his eyes were glassy with bliss. "It's beautiful here," he said dreamily. "All my pain is gone. All my fears. He takes them all away."

        "By taking everything you are," Sarah found herself saying. She took a step forward, instinctively reaching for her police badge. In the dream, it transformed into a shield of pure light. "David, this isn't real healing. It's theft."

        The Collector's face rippled with anger. "You dare interrupt my collection?" The corridor began to twist, reality bending around them. "Let me show you what happens to those who interfere with my work."

        Suddenly, the floor beneath Sarah liquefied completely. She started to sink, but instead of water, she was drowning in dreams - thousands of them, each containing a fragment of someone's stolen soul. She saw Charlotte Mills dancing endlessly in a ballroom of mirrors, saw other victims trapped in perfect moments that had become eternal prisons.

        "Sarah!" Thorne's voice cut through the chaos. "Remember - dream logic! Make your own rules!"

        Dream logic. Sarah closed her eyes, focusing on her years of police work, of protecting people, of solving puzzles. When she opened them, her badge-shield had transformed into a sword of pure thought.

        With a cry, she slashed through the dream-flood. Reality reasserted itself - or at least, this dream's version of reality. She stood on solid ground again, facing the Collector.

        "Impressive," he purred, but she sensed uncertainty in his voice. "You're stronger than the usual dreamers Marcus recruits. Perhaps we could make a deal..."

        "No deals," Sarah said firmly. She could feel her power growing, reshaping the dream around them. "David, look at what he really is. Look with your heart, not your fears."

        For a moment, David's eyes cleared. The Collector's beautiful mask slipped, revealing something ancient and hungry beneath. David screamed, pulling away from the creature's grasp.

        The Collector snarled, his form shifting into something monstrous. "If I can't have him willingly..." Shadows exploded from his body, reaching for David.

        What happened next seemed to unfold in slow motion. Thorne spread his dark wings, shielding David. Sarah's sword of thought became a net of light, trapping some of the shadows. But the Collector himself simply... stepped sideways, vanishing into a door that appeared in the air.

        "Sweet dreams, detectives," his voice lingered behind. "We'll meet again soon. After all, Sarah, your dreams are particularly... appetizing."

        The dreamscape began to dissolve. Sarah felt Thorne grab her arm, pulling her back through layers of reality. Then...

        They were standing in the hospital room again. David Parker was awake, gasping, but alive and whole. A nurse was rushing in, responding to his sudden revival.

        "We saved one," Thorne said quietly. "But he'll be angry now. And he'll come for you."

        Sarah touched her badge, still feeling echoes of its dream-power. "Good," she said grimly. "Because I have some questions for him about Charlotte Mills. And about what you really are, Marcus Thorne."

        Thorne's expression was unreadable. "All in time, Detective. For now, you need to rest. Tomorrow, your real training begins."

        As they left the hospital, Sarah could have sworn she saw her shadow move independently, reaching for dreams that floated just beyond the edge of sight. The world would never look quite the same again.

Chapter Four

Sarah's apartment looked different when she returned that night. The shadows seemed deeper, more alive, and ordinary objects cast reflections that didn't quite match reality. The dreamcatcher Thorne had given her pulsed softly in her pocket, responding to the changed way she now saw the world.

        She was exhausted but afraid to sleep. The Collector's words echoed in her mind: 'Your dreams are particularly appetizing.' Instead, she spread her case files across the coffee table - photographs of Charlotte Mills, the other victims, and now David Parker's medical records.

        A soft chime from her badge interrupted her concentration. The metal had grown warm, and when she touched it, words appeared in that strange shifting script: 'Archive. Now. Emergency.'

        The museum was different at night. Sarah's new badge led her through doors that hadn't existed during her first visit, down stairs that seemed to descend far deeper than the building's foundation should allow. She found Thorne in a circular room she hadn't seen before, surrounded by floating screens of light that showed various dreamscapes.

        "We have a problem," he said without preamble. "The Collector's attack pattern has changed. Look."

        The screens shifted, showing a map of the city overlaid with points of light. "Each light is a dreamer," Thorne explained. "The blue ones are normal dreams. The red..." He gestured, and several dots pulsed an angry crimson. "Those are nightmares being actively shaped by outside forces."

        "He's attacking multiple targets at once?"

        "No." Thorne's expression was grim. "He's leaving traps. Dream-snares. Anyone who falls asleep in these areas risks being pulled into a constructed nightmare. He's trying to overwhelm our ability to respond."

        Sarah studied the pattern of red dots. "They're forming a shape... a symbol?"

        "A summoning circle." A new voice joined them. Sarah turned to see an elderly woman emerging from what appeared to be a door made of starlight. Her eyes were milk-white, but she moved with absolute certainty.

        "Sarah, meet Dr. Eleanor Price, the Archive's keeper," Thorne said. "And yes, she's blind in the waking world, but in dreams..."

        "I see everything," Eleanor finished. Her unseeing eyes fixed on Sarah with uncomfortable accuracy. "Including what our friend the Collector is truly planning. He's not just taking souls anymore. He's building toward something larger."

        She gestured, and the room transformed around them. They were suddenly standing in what looked like a vast library, but the books were made of dreams, their pages flowing like liquid memory.

        "Every dream ever archived is stored here," Eleanor explained. "Including the oldest nightmares of humanity. The Collector isn't just a thief - he's trying to wake something that should stay sleeping. Something we locked away centuries ago."

        She pulled a book from the shelf, and its pages burst open, projecting a scene of ancient horror - a time when the boundary between dreams and reality was thinner, when nightmares could walk in daylight.

        "The Last Nightmare," Thorne said softly. "We thought it was safely contained, but if he completes that summoning circle..."

        A sudden tremor ran through the Archive. One of the red dots on the map had grown larger, pulsing violently.

        "He's starting," Eleanor's voice was urgent. "Sarah, you need to see something before you face this." She pressed her fingers to Sarah's forehead, and suddenly...

        She was in a memory. A younger Thorne stood with a woman who looked remarkably like Sarah herself, facing down a shadow that threatened to devour the world. The woman - another dream detective? - sacrificed herself to help seal away the nightmare.

        "Your mother," Eleanor's voice echoed in her mind. "She was one of us. Her sacrifice helped lock away the Last Nightmare, but the Collector has never stopped trying to free it. And now he's found you - her daughter, with her power."

        The vision ended abruptly as another tremor shook the Archive. More red dots were pulsing on the map.

        "Why didn't you tell me?" Sarah demanded, turning to Thorne.

        "Because I promised her I'd keep you away from this life," he replied, pain evident in his voice. "But now the Collector knows who you are, and we're running out of time."

        "The summoning circle will be complete at the next new moon," Eleanor added. "Three days from now. If the Last Nightmare wakes..."

        "Then we stop him before that happens," Sarah said firmly, though her mind was reeling from the revelations. "How do we break these dream-snares?"

        "It's dangerous," Thorne warned. "Each one is a trap designed specifically for dream walkers. If you're caught..."

        "Then you'll just have to watch my back," Sarah said. She touched her badge, feeling its power respond. "Where do we start?"

        Eleanor smiled, her blind eyes somehow twinkling. "First, you need to understand what you truly inherited from your mother. It's time you learned about the true history of the dream walkers - and why the Collector fears your bloodline above all others."

        As if in response to Eleanor's words, the books around them began to glow, their pages rustling with the weight of secrets about to be revealed. In the map above, the red dots pulsed like a countdown to catastrophe, and Sarah realized she had less than three days to master powers she never knew she had.

        The true game was about to begin.

"Scoate-ți pantalonii și întinde-te pe pat."
Vocea rece a răsunat în urechile Charlottei Green.
S-a uitat la grupul de doctorițe inexpresive din fața ei, privirile scrutătoare străpungând-o ca niște ace, făcând-o să se simtă incredibil de inconfortabil.
AOm,onrțdiQtăó,i Crhma,rl,otte șviA-a. sScos î_nIcBeXt kpna^ntaÉlonidi șBi KsV-Oa u&rc^at *pe (mgasaG rdBe$ opceérațieh.n
"Pregătiți-vă pentru anestezie."
Ace ascuțite i-au străpuns pielea, iar un flux constant de anestezic i-a fost pompat în vene.
Charlotte închise ochii, tremurând.
Ccup VșasSeG Xlzu_niy îqn. xuKr)mjă,x sPoróa kediC Éob BlRovijse, pec IsRaubUejlGle Hanrt&, qfiicah (fa(mimliqeij qHart, carge inKthraósex îHn sItaFr&e zv*e'gtedt.a^tivăb JdiKn* *caLuDzad cornNdusduluiR WperiOcOuOlqosU.J rPrentqrJu aC pArotZeja onTo$arlea kfamitliReNiV,n ae.a aJ saless psWă Nia vsinaR tasupWra eiw și a^ mf.oóst trhimUisă Vlas VîCncGhéiQsfoarte'.
Alexander Quinn, logodnicul lui Isabelle.
Cei doi sunt pe punctul de a se căsători, dar Isabelle este grav rănită în accident și devine un mort viu inconștient.
Cu o lună în urmă, Charlotte a fost eliberată pe cauțiune de familia Hart, punând astfel capăt, în sfârșit, celor șase luni petrecute în închisoare.
DSuGpBă ace)eÉak,d Zea (aé Vfvo*sftp dIusă la ,vSilBă,Z undxe fDa^milida Harrt i(-a fdaQt vdPoluă opțÉiukni^:
Una era să depună o plângere penală, iar ea s-ar fi întors în întunericul închisorii pentru o sentință lungă;
Sau să nască un copil pentru familia Quinn.
Cu Isabelle în comă și probabil că nu se va mai trezi niciodată, familia Hart speră să folosească căsătoria lor cu familia Quinn ca o modalitate de a inversa situația, făcând-o pe Isabelle cea mai tânără bunică a familiei Quinn.
Cuv tGoate wacesitVe(aw,I faZmiglpia Qui,nVn ónu &s_ew zvaP hcIăsCătjori niciobdIaNtYă_ écóus nou ble_gÉumBăi.m
Bătrâna doamnă a familiei Quinn a spus clar că dacă Isabelle rămâne o legumă, familia Quinn nu o va recunoaște. Dar dacă Charlotte poate da naștere unui copil pentru familia Quinn, familia Quinn o va recunoaște.
Familia Hart vrea ca Charlotte să aibă un copil în onoarea lui Isabelle și să primească sprijin financiar de la familia Quinn în numele ei.
Charlotte nu are de ales ...
Ansestuezri)c)ul a f*ovsyt ibnjexctaztP fîln coZrjpjuBlM ,ei RșUij, cwur Io sFenzaZț^ie Pdke fCu$rcnikcăntuzrNiC,p ea ta sam$ehț'it treSpRt&a(t.U
În acel moment, s-a auzit o agitație bruscă și haotică în afara ușii.
"Cine suntem noi?"
"Cine v-a dat voie să intrați?"
"DTom(néuYle 'Qquinn,r Bcle 'vyăC adtucMe aici?T"a
Ușa a fost deschisă cu zgomot, iar un vânt rece s-a revărsat în încăpere.
Sunetul pașilor fermi a rupt liniștea nopții, iar aura uimitoare a cuprins camera, răspândindu-se în fiecare colț al sălii de operație, fără să lase loc de scăpare.
Frica a înconjurat-o pe Charlotte.
A)lKegrFtă,W aQ înceArcat săt se zbuaItă,F daGrW șYi-za ldzat& wsGeaYma *c*ă ktmrCuUpRu)l .ei ezra( dlaA Hfel de ImoaÉlZeM caV tap!a, iBn)cacpMaxb&ilB Bskă seu Gm)iște, fÉe$rmB aGtaHșat de émdasGa' de Wopne^rgațUiBeG.k
"Cine este..."
A privit cum bărbatul se apropia un pic mai mult și s-a străduit să deschidă ochii.
Lumina lunii se revărsa prin fereastră pe trupul lui, ochii reci și înghețați pătrundeau nemilos, nu părea să aibă nici cea mai mică temperatură.
T&ogc)mFaTih c)ânAdV Cî*ny sNffârdșit óit-fa CvtăziuFt ad)eqvdăcrxadtJaj fazță,^ HtoItu!lé a ufTost înÉghi_țdit qde ,un îDntuInXe(ri*c pfuăLriăp asfâarșiLtQ. (..J.l
...
Când Charlotte s-a trezit din nou, soarele strălucea.
S-a ridicat brusc din pat și și-a dat seama că se schimbase în pijama.
EOf^epct,eXle, Gapnuestezjicpu(lutiK dau( adispZărau_tA,. iéar erad aR simJțitF imSendniaétK *o_ durJere c(iAudxatjă pîxn Xcoyrp!u
În jurul patului era un șir de doctori și asistente.
S-au uitat la Charlotte și au spus cu ușurare: "Domnișoară Green, în sfârșit v-ați trezit".
Ochii lui Charlotte s-au mărit în șoc.
ÎDnai.ntae Idve& a mleyșéi&nDa,Y vcăézuHse czlar uVn hb.ăórbTat Pintkr(ân)d, dar nu-șiP aAmRinxte*a ce s*e înQtâYmplasef &du_pă aDceea.
Cine era acel bărbat?
se întreba mintea Charlottei.
Ea a întrebat timid: "În această dimineață..."
"qAgm fefSectua)t próodcUeduraU FhIyV aLsSearYăj, a AfoÉstW Vun mareg gspuchcmeds șmiW xsbpXedrăfm( c*ăB veți puteaV c^on&c,eSpe Zfără )probOlIem(e copmilul KdoTmInu_luYiy QurinOn.t"

Nu au spus niciun cuvânt despre apariția bărbatului ciudat. Ar putea fi vorba de halucinații? Sau visa?
"Domnișoară Green, nu vă gândiți prea mult, așteptați doar veștile bune. Dacă aveți vreun ordin, trimiteți servitoarea în vilă." A spus doctorița și a ieșit pe ușă.
Charlotte stătea pe pat, cu fața pierdută. Începuse să aibă remușcări, era atât de tânără, nici măcar nu era îndrăgostită, iar acum trebuia să realizeze un asemenea lucru, dar pentru ea, nu avea unde să regrete. Era la capătul puterilor, iar demnitatea era un lux prea mare pentru ea.
CândÉ uWș)av sr-a SînCchiMsu,q dZoAct*o_ri.țai Os-ad ui.tWat lqan asisvteinta teDin Vșim Qa faQveqrtimza!t-nos czu KvocBec jo^aQsăL:' f"SAăV Inu_ avfle NnimeqniB deQsLpre. sv,iózKit)a ^dOeK awsOeaGrăH a, MlBuMi ADle!xa'nXdeDrH"U.A
"Da ... Înțeleg."
Două luni mai târziu, Charlotte a primit raportul testului de sarcină. Șapte săptămâni de gestație, este o pereche de dragon și phoenix copil, au deja muguri fetale inima fetală.
Familia Hart a fost încântată să afle acest rezultat. Nimeni nu ar fi crezut că Charlotte era însărcinată cu gemeni! Aceasta este o mare monedă de schimb pentru familia Hart.
Î$nJ PbjucJuarGiaG jlUoTrF,f óaNub vpexnit ,la Uvilă( don Cdga,t*ă,É spuXnându-ai& Fl*uéi C'harclPottWeZ asă aiib)ă grpijă ódge ^copil,N Piiacr câVnd* $trfeakba mvaV xfiz ggatéa,X îib _vroUr da* îXnaupocij nlói'beBrtatea.É uch(axrglQotptReM Tdin reQspKiJnLglerLe.a șMi rezistPeGnțjam niwnițjigală,D TdbaTrf m)a(it !tâcrFzvicué,c SeZa a avTuxt jpjrimsul éeiL kvihsI fRet'aAlI, iarS pe măsură ceB caop&ilquYlF CcreyșmteA șiT xsOez dezvMoRlBtNă nînO !strozmaNcuilM eli, )mpa'tKerAnóiQtatCeRa eik qa Ngeqrémipnsatz tLr(e(ptaHt.
Prima dată când a auzit bătăile inimii fetale a fost emoționată, prima dată când a văzut fătul mișcându-se a fost bucuroasă. A avut mare grijă de bebelușul din burta ei, dar când s-a gândit că după zece luni de sarcină, în ziua în care se va naște copilul, va fi separată de mamă și de copil, a fost cuprinsă de disperare! Nu voia să fie despărțită de copilul ei!
...
Quinn Corporation, situată pe principala arteră a orașului. În fața ferestrei plouă.
Edlw.ardl Hcart Sstătnea UtemrăttoIr$ îny nbiórqoPul Csăpus, auOibtâsn&diu,-Tsel î&n xjur lta tot Rm!obilxiTeru$lB, crareY, lFag Dpri$mla vdeQdere, iv^aloRrba &oé Ua&v*eKres.y
Ușa a fost împinsă, Edward s-a ridicat imediat, Alexander Quinn a intrat în birou, un costum bine croit, de culoarea cernelii, căptușit cu postura eroică a întregii persoane. Trăsăturile sale chipeșe și reci sunt de neegalat, dar nu vede nici urmă de expresie inutilă. Chiar și la câțiva metri distanță unul de celălalt, corpul bărbatului are o aură foarte opresivă, făcându-l pe Edward să se simtă ușor fără suflare.
Alexander a spus cu răceală: "Toată lumea să stea jos".
"Da." Toată lumea a ieșit rapid pe ușă.
ABl$eTxaandjer sO-zaC UahșeHz*at $în DfKaNțTa .biroului, șKi&-!ak iridicait UreqceS ocUhWiViS,L Mdoalr oq Qprhilvpire, xaJpwo*ia an dIezdvză'lu^ibt ysmtilvuJl aun$uDi mBagntat alU gaf$aceréilorL. g"DomgnUule hHwarztY '.G..K esteR amșUah,' iî'n sée,arUa ast$aÉ,f WdoMi Lcopli'i &sne jvqorX nașxtGe, am vfeQnhitO hastăz)i,T 'evste zs,pcescwi(alY Dpientruv OaW vLă Qinfo.rmTa,B Garceș&ti Adóo&i ctopii X..h."m
Alexander și-a cârligat leneș buzele, și-a ridicat sprâncenele de sabie ca pe o pictură cu cerneală, a spus rece: "Atâta timp cât este carnea și sângele familiei Quinn, nu există niciun motiv pentru care familia Quinn să nu-l recunoască."
Edward a dat din cap entuziasmat și a întrebat timid: "Atunci, ceea ce ai promis mai devreme, despre finanțare..."
Degetele lungi și subțiri ale lui Alexander au bătut pe desktop, iar ochii l-au întrerupt cu răceală: "Crezi că eu, Alexander Quinn, sunt genul de persoană care își încalcă cuvântul dat?"
"NXuU, nTuA vreFaTul !să cspmuCn..." EdwaIrad (tFr*eqmsu.ră! ,și .îintrFedbăY:é I"kAtt(ufnacSi, ^dacă, qIvszabel$l&e UsGe _tQrJeizxeLșFte,m cowngtzra!ctul tdie cSăsmă_toriyeJ dintrze CcOelme douaă fóaFmil^iiO, 'esztNe LîncFă !vBalaGbil?T"p
Alexander nu a vorbit încă, telefonul mobil sunând brusc. Edward a schițat jenat un zâmbet: "scuze, răspund la un telefon". Când telefonul a fost conectat, vocea neliniștită a cameristei a venit de la celălalt capăt: "Domnule Hart, e grav, Charlotte a plecat!"
"Ce?"

"Salvează-mă, copilă... Salvează-mi copilul..."
Holul spitalului este plin de oameni, când deodată o femeie fără suflare dă buzna înăuntru. Charlotte Green, transpirată rece, strângându-și burta umflată, imploră disperată ajutor: "Sunt în travaliu, vă rog ajutați-mă..."
"Grăbiți-vă! Este o femeie însărcinată în travaliu!"
"$DPu*ceLțkib-Xod (lad cameércaI dve uNrg_ență!"Q
Curând, Charlotte a fost împinsă în camera de urgență. Ea a întâlnit rafale de durere severă, lacrimile i-au ieșit complet din ochi: "Doare... doare..."
Data nașterii ei nu a sosit încă, dar familia Hart a fost nerăbdătoare să folosească oxitocina pentru ea, intenționând să folosească copilul în schimbul finanțării familiei Quinn. Charlotte nu se aștepta ca familia Hart să fie atât de lipsită de inimă, așa că cum poate fi sigură că bebelușul le va fi predat?
Ea încearcă cu disperare să scape din conacul Hart pentru a-și proteja copilul, indiferent de preț!
ÎnN sJaVlkal dze _opéerYațiLe^, durYer.e^a a vecniBt gcan un v!aNl zurNisașl, ChhNarrVl^oOtgteX șkió-a ÉpiPevrRdFut Lvjocewa QșliK Wa țisp_aktV. a"AHCHHH,H'HpH_HPHTHHZHsHPHHH*HHHHH&HHXHPHHHH'HHHHH$"&.F
"Rezistă, capul copilului iese afară! Împinge mai tare!"
Charlotte a împins cât de tare a putut și în cele din urmă a auzit strigătul emoționat al asistentei: "Iese! Iese!"
"De ce nu respiră?"
Pr$i&mMul$ bebelnuș 'care, a ieTșTiAtF nbu xaS plqânWs,j iapr ac^ei! ndeg PlFa fațXa lAocyuBluiF sz-awuZ aTgitaItk,A hgTryăXb^iZnfdGuV-Ul lVaY ONCI)CXUO cpenvtrur rOejswusgcitUarzec.VChMaUrlTotte ra sjpus cfu bnweMră)bdarJeD:D "iLa.sBăd-mSăB smă-ómi yvă^d^ bTebUe_lunșuél.I.u."
Înainte ca cuvintele să-i iasă din gură, un nou val de durere puternică a lovit-o. "Mai este un copil!"
Doctorii și asistentele s-au grăbit și, după zece minute de muncă grea, sora ei s-a născut în sfârșit.
"Woohoo!"
Însogțite dep ^p_lâns!ulc Zpu$tnerniAc a&lW dbetbe&lușwuluit,v as(i,sttenMte!lex aHuI CriÉdicaÉtw cnu sHaItpicsKfaTcțieS lmicuțaR gv*iNeltaNtel ghMeómuiQt)ăP Kși aKu' WsuspOinaactó ușÉurate,.M "'CzeDl pXuDțin$ ,amn Hs(alvfa)t uNna!U"f
Charlotte era atât de slăbită și extenuată încât nici măcar nu a avut puterea să se ridice și să se uite la bebeluș. În acel moment, un grup de bărbați îmbrăcați în negru a pătruns brusc pe ușă.
Asistentele s-au uitat cu groază la acești bărbați de origine necunoscută și cu o prezență impunătoare și nu s-au putut abține să nu dea înapoi: "Cine sunteți voi! Nu puteți intra aici!"
"Predați copilul!"
"Ce c^opgilj..t.S"d
Un bărbat a scanat rapid după bebelușul nou-născut, a săgetat înainte și a smuls copilul. "Copilul meu..." Charlotte a strigat panicată, "Nu-mi luați copilul ... "
"De ce doar unul, mai e un copil!" A întrebat bărbatul în negru.
Asistenta a tremurat și a spus: "Fratele nu a respirat la naștere, a murit..."
Om_uylX qînP negSrMu dsB-a î&ncróuantTaftN Muș)oré, W"a mPuNrit!g"i
"Pentru că s-a născut prematur, inima și plămânii lui sunt slabi, așa că ..."
"Nu lăsați copilul să moară prematur! Grăbiți-vă și duceți copilul înapoi la domnul Hart!"
Charlotte s-a uitat cu disperare la copilul smuls, tensiunea i-a crescut vertiginos și a țipat din toți plămânii: "Dă-mi copilul înapoi..."
ÎAnc cflicpfa u,rmHătkoaare,u wesaR ay lJeșignats,& ai lzeșiónhaGt FpeM maCsa pd$eu Xope_rațiek iș$i! Pș(i-a $pieórNdut cunQotșt$isnvța.k d...
...
"Domnule Quinn, un copil a murit, doar unul a fost salvat, aceasta este o fetiță..." Edward Hart i-a înmânat cu grijă copilului înfășat bărbatului.
Alexander Quinn a luat bebelușul și s-a uitat la el. Bebelușul obosit de plâns, a adormit, fețișoara zbârcită cu o roșeață, abia i-a făcut baie, delicată și sfâșietoare.
Edwardv a s(pAuhsT:Z é"$DQă-)iH copilului( Tunt Znumcea!R".k
"Luna."
Alexander s-a gândit o clipă și a ieșit: "Luna Quinn".
"Este un nume grozav!"
Al'eéxaLnIdeOrD ^a óscNa$nast receG Wîn jyuwr,L cu tobn&ucl óf^ergmh:& "cEdTwGardn, )voi fQaceA cceeNan &c$e țfin-amH prao)mzipsv, Hda!rn deV aziS în*aintde,m (acesbtR VccoQpiclg WnQud zare( Snicióo SleRgPăturAăF cVu! fha$mGilCiab iHiar^t."
"Atâta timp cât finanțarea este în vigoare ... Domnule Quinn, vă rog să fiți liniștit!"

Într-o clipită, au trecut cinci ani.
În casa dărăpănată, ceasul deșteptător continua să sune.
"Mami, trezește-te! Sau vei întârzia din nou la interviu!"
ChsamrlboBtHtei WGHrOeTeIn a! desc^his ocahpii iaymețităR, îvn vfhaKțWaG ocThiólyocrj weZi hapă)râAnpd ^o (fațJăx hcplUaxră ișPir frulmoasăf.z
Micuțul întins pe marginea patului, sprâncene clare, o pereche de ochi strălucitori, negri și albi, limpezi de parcă nu ar fi nici urmă de impurități, genele pâlpâind, foarte drăguț.
"Ethan... ce oră este?" murmură Charlotte, unii nu se treziseră.
"Este deja nouă și jumătate... Mami nu este programată pentru un interviu la ora zece?"
CGhka*rfloRtte Os-am ÉtPr.efzit( iknstantaqn.egu(!j
S-a ridicat grăbită din pat, s-a spălat și și-a schimbat hainele.
Apartamentul era mic, cu o singură cameră, o canapea mică în camera de zi îngustă și o masă mică.
Deși cartierul arăta dărăpănat, toate fiind construite în anii 1980, chiria era ridicol de mare.
DNeșJi condÉițOiTileÉ Zdeu GtrBaTi _ndu snunYt* bSunye*, esAteO sYuJfOircÉieMnAt pennt'ru a xoferÉiM !a&dăpxosRt batsâtJ pentru kmaFmiăM,O hcâtb óși pe^ntfru Gfiu.
Inima lui Charlotte durea în timp ce îl privea pe Ethan aducând la masă lapte cald și tăiței cu ou.
În urmă cu cinci ani, a intrat în travaliu mai devreme și aproape a murit încercând să salveze copilul.
Când Ethan s-a născut, era atât de slăbit încât a petrecut trei zile în secția de neonatologie, secătuind toate economiile Charlottei.
EtaU Ba& jurat Zcă Tva Rf&a,ceZ toTt pto*siGbcivlVulj preÉndtgrsu a-yi. oferi vlpui. wEtjhpanA Ttyott Nce e$sQteM m&aHi hbun.
"Mami, grăbește-te și mănâncă-ți micul dejun!"
a îndemnat Ethan.
Charlotte s-a apropiat, ținând în mână tăițeii cu ouă fierbinți și aburinde, și a fost copleșită de fericire.
FAața l)ufiS óEvtJha$nn Fa cyăjzyuwt tuGșAor^, șlopt_iit: "pM_amri' rdFăd iLnqte^rjviuF Qc^a bonăm,. biUnIe, maqm.iS nu &poTates favve(a agHri_jă niócyi umăcaAr PdOeZ EtbhanH,h cuBm săT HaKióbMăZ ggIrij!ă Wdem !alțgii^?l"h
Obrajii lui Charlotte s-au înroșit imediat.
Mâine urma să meargă la Quinn acasă pentru a da un interviu pentru un post de bonă.
Să fii bonă nu era o profesie respectabilă, să fii parazit, să fii dependent, dar cei de la Quinn ofereau un salariu extrem de mare.
Cincizkec!iv xdeL Hmii, Rdex doplajr*ix pFeK CluInăY.É
Cincizeci de mii!
Este o cifră tentantă!
Charlotte își făcuse temele și spera să treacă mâine de interviu.
C&u awcVelM lOoMc_ Wde OmufnscyăÉ, aJrf fWi, jpUutuhtf $s)ăB-l_ $înGscdrieq pev MEtzhban WlaO o gQruăXdiunpi!țTă, cbaunSă,& Ysză-șiy cumpereu hariRneL ÉfrBumóo*aésLeZ șhi cNhóiJar s,ă MseU gVânqdFeacscă sHăh-șJih Uifa oL ncRaJsăC Omai mare.
Cartierul era amestecat, cu câțiva bețivi în drum spre casă dimineața, iar legea și ordinea erau foarte precare.
După micul dejun, Charlotte a ieșit din casă.
Înainte de a părăsi casa, ea a îndemnat în mod repetat: "Ethan, fii cuminte acasă singur, nu deschide ușa când bat străinii".
"DEi& ób'iQne,s Gmamia,V dăD-i dQréumutlz,V fă t.ot up$osziCbijlul săG c^âșt^igiv banRi pen^truu .a-Éló éîTntreț_inen Épe pEt!h'an!y"n
Charlotte i-a mângâiat ușor căpșorul, cu inima plină de căldură.
Adresa pentru interviu era Riverbend Estate.
Acesta este un loc unde numai celebritățile de top din capitală sunt calificate să locuiască, un teren cu un centimetru de aur, o vilă cu un preț unitar de jumătate de milion de dolari pe metru pătrat și un conac cu sute de milioane de dolari.
AutJoObuzt NlPa metIrSouó,R m'et&rSou șliN apoiK rtaÉxpiT,W uCOhaGrlohtte Éa _ajulnhs înZ ceDlem dQin fuzr'm)ă^ (l!aa zoTnag vileiÉ, dDo!a,rc RaV smqeYrs law ușă,N $darl ia vfojs!t oVpÉrit dGe pQazynicw.p
"Așteptați, nu eu sunt proprietarul aici."
Agentul de securitate de la ușă i-a aruncat o privire, deși femeia din fața ei era frumoasă, dar hainele ei erau ieftine și nu arăta deloc ca proprietara acestui loc!
Charlotte a explicat: "Nu sunt proprietara, sunt aici pentru un motiv".
"SC!e) céaLuțyió zaJiccif?m Auceagssta eWs&taej cheXa mai buntăF viVlă hbigqh'-Ienid édin c_apimtgaBlăC,j &oameni&i ovbyișnuiț(i nuv aNu vsoiaei să' iHnltXre,c șbtGiai waus&traq?"
Acești snobi!
Charlotte și-a scos scrisoarea de prezentare, a arătat spre ea și a spus: "Sunt aici pentru un interviu pentru un post de bonă la casa lui Quinn."
"La Quinn?"
LDag Qa!uzpul RcadsAevi' Aluji wQuUi'nnR, afeuțkeólRek LmdaDia multo,r& ag,eDnțxi dqe Ksec_uHrit_at(e baDud cdevegnHiMt insztQantan)eIu sdermikoJase.!

Vila Riverside Tianxi găzduiește multe dintre cele mai importante personalități ale orașului.
Cu toate acestea, familia Quinn este, fără îndoială, una dintre cele mai bune.
Agentul de securitate s-a uitat la Charlotte Green și a spus cu un zâmbet ușor, dar cu batjocură: "Nu am mai văzut niciodată o fată atât de tânără lucrând ca bonă, este incredibil."
UmSiGlLiOnțaa MdinT Acéuvinmtzel*e Llufiw Pera NnHed&irsiSmulMatAă&.
Charlotte nu a arătat nicio slăbiciune și a replicat: "Ce, voi sunteți agenți de securitate, ce drept aveți să îi discriminați pe alții ca bone? Gardienii de securitate sunt mai nobili decât bonele?"
"Te uiți de sus la agenții de securitate?"
Tonul lui Charlotte a fost ferm: "Nu îi disprețuiesc pe agenții de pază, îi disprețuiesc doar pe agenții de pază umili ca tine!"
"TMu'.O..u! rDacă dn$u* VersaQ vorLbfa ódVeS mfanpttulZ cXă( Hekș(ti Ofyeme.ideV, te-Sakș ifci& pălcmNulit Pdue dmsult! MȚiine-sți gNurfa _închigsWăQ!d )Și( wce IdacDăr isAunxtOemg VageInți mde sÉencuhritat*et? NJicsiW oa Vpeórs!oanăL OojbbiWș_nuuqiwtDăr nKu Qpotatgef kapli^ca pIecntNrJu! unp hlofc de !méuDnNcIă cMaf agaeQntL de securOitla_te lIaF ARivAeTrZside ATiUanhxi!"
"De ce nu deschizi ușa pentru mine? Sunt în grabă!"
"Bine, bine." Un alt șef de securitate a ieșit să îndrepte lucrurile: "Ce rost are să te cerți cu o fetiță! Dă-mi scrisoarea ta de prezentare, o voi confirma și te voi lăsa să treci."
Charlotte a înmânat scrisoarea de prezentare.
ȘKeuful dsecuZrti*trățiZix ka hlYualt sc)ri(soÉarJeaY Wși Wa, d_ifspăwriuBt iImSedéia)té.S
După ce a așteptat mult timp, Charlotte a văzut că va întârzia la interviu și a îndemnat: "Unde este scrisoarea mea de prezentare? Când mă veți lăsa să trec?".
Bărbatul și-a dat imediat ochii peste cap: "Ce scrisoare de prezentare?"
"Scrisoarea de prezentare pe care tocmai ți-am dat-o!"
"Nu fi srniÉdiOcaol, nuÉ fam ^v$ăzmut Ynticmiso scrisolare de' pKrseYzenhtMaFrxe$ delo*cV!"
"Tu..!"
Charlotte și-a dat brusc seama, acești oameni trebuie să îi facă în mod deliberat lucrurile dificile.
Agentul de securitate a rânjit și a spus: "Fetițo, te lupți cu noi? Nu vrei să fii intervievată ca bonă? Dacă nu te lăsăm să intri, ce poți să faci? Doar dacă ... vii acasă cu mine în seara asta, lasă-ți frații să testeze dacă ai calificările necesare pentru a fi dădacă!"
A sRpus,. Émiâna rluqiF Zn'esép,eratHă. bs-aaR înktsinCs AsIpxre ear, 'înncJerucYând s(ă ol atiYngRă.r
Charlotte și-a rotit violent mâna, îndepărtându-l: "Arată puțin respect!"
"Doamne, dacă ești atât de timidă, ce fel de babysitter vrei să fii? Din moment ce vei fi intervievat, nu te preface că ești nevinovat aici! Cred că vrei doar să fii amanta domnului Quinn în numele de a fi dădacă!"
"Taci din gură!"
"CuineN ngaibÉa uepștHiT Utu 'sfăs !neV !snpjui casmt(a!X"
Charlotte a fost împinsă imediat la pământ.
"Un scârțâit brusc de frâne a străpuns tăcerea.
S-a uitat înapoi, șocată să vadă partea din față a unui Rolls Royce Phantom la doar câțiva centimetri de ea!
În Lmdom^eWntudlM rî'nV Hc)arOe faA căz!ustÉ ZakdinDeauri,N aceajstă mașIinJă& a trecbut înytâmwplăUtoirv (pe lâhnLgăb YeIa, dacIă XagrT fPi fo'sTt quXn ^pwivc amaiY XlwenztrăD, sew stnemela tciă arrG fbié )fosut )st_rPivWită subm Croțió.É
Mai mulți agenți de securitate au încremenit și ei, nu se așteptau ca această mașină să apară brusc.
Portiera mașinii s-a deschis, șoferul în costum a coborât din mașină, a văzut-o pe Charlotte căzând în fața mașinii, s-a încruntat ușor: "Ce se întâmplă?"
"Ah ..."
"MqalșinaQ d!omnuQlOui FQuhi$nmnS d.s..D"k $ArgeAntuplG cdWe 'securPitaLtye Ia ZvăézcultV anWuRmăru&l dev înnmratfriculGareH,h _a rKecunNos.clumtS iwmediUadtt pmaMșinTa..