Six Feet Under 

Initially, Emelie thought that William would drag his feet forever in bringing her to the hospital to help Greta bathe and change her clothes. She was even prepared to make a fuss 

about it 

But to her astonishment, the very next morning, William brought it up himself. He said he would take her to the hospital that evening after work. 

Emelie’s carefully crafted speech died in her throat, replaced by a mumbled, “Alright.” 

william, of course, could read her like an open book. He scoffed. “I’m not as untrustworthy as you think I am. 

Emelie retorted, ““Truly noble people don’t need to constantly remind everyone of their nobility. It’s those who lack it who feel the need to keep saying it.” 

William lifted his head to glance at her. 

Seeing her indifferent expression, he said slowly, “In the past, you would only argue with me when you weren’t feeling well. Now, you take issue with everything I say. Angel, your temper seems to be getting worse.” 

All of a sudden, Emelie remembered Ashley mentioning that there were drastic changes in her habits ever since she got pregnant. Was her worsening temper a drastic change too? 

Her eyelashes fluttered, and she lowered her head to take a sip

of oatmeal “You’re keeping me captive here, and you still expect me to be nice to you? Don’t get greedy, Mr. Middleton.” 

William pushed a bowl of blueberries and green grapes in her direction. “Now that you’re pregnant, eat more fruit.” 

Emelie had been wanting to ask him this question since yesterday. “Why did you tell everyone that I was pregnant? 

“To make us appear like a loving couple,” he replied simply. 

Emelie scotted. “Appear” was the perfect word because it was all an act 

After breakfast, William rose from the table. A servant hurried over with his suit jacket. © - All rights reserved.

As he slipped iron, he said, “I’ve picked out a few wedding dresses. They’ll be delivered here in a few days. Take a look and see if you like any. We’re on a tight schedule, so custom- made is out of the question, but these are all brand new. If you don’t like any of them, we can look at others.” 

What? Wedding dresses? 

Emelie was so angry that she laughed humorlessly. “There’s no way I’m marrying you!” 

William ignored her outburst. He took a few steps toward the door, but then turned back. “Mr. Middleton is off to work. Isn’t Mrs. Middleton going to see him off?” 

Emelie held back her anger, but to no avail She cursed, “I’ll see you off when you’re six feet under! Bastard!” 

Oursing him provided a fleeting sense of satisfaction, but as the clock struck half past seven in the evening, a different worry crept in. It was well past the time to get off work, but William still wasn’t back yet. 

She was afraid that he was still angry at what she said in the morning, so he didn’t want to come back and being her to see Greta. 

Fortunately, ten minutes later, two beams of light illuminated the house through the windows. Emelie bolted toward the window and looked down 

The silver and black Cullinan was parked under the streetlamp, looking luxurious and expensive. He was back. 

Emelie hurried downstairs as the car pulled up to the porch. She flang open the car door and hopped inside. 

William, leaning against the door with his head resting on his hand, tumed to face her. “You only seem to run to me when it’s convenient” 

Emelie retorted swiftly, “I used to run to you all the time, but you never appreciated it.” 

William put down his hand. “Enough.” 

Just like how Emelle used to call him “Liam“, those were a thing of the past. 

They arrived at the ICU. The previous two times Emelie came here, she could only see Greta through the glass window. 

This time, she could go into the ward. However, as expected, there was a keypad lock on the door, 

William stepped in front of her, blocking her view as he punched in a six–digit code. The door came buzzing open. 

Emelie didn’t do something as futile as asking him why there was a lock. She was just eager to go inside. She had already put on a sterile surgical gown, hat, and mask. Emelle approached the bed. 

Greta laid there quietly, connected to a web at medical equipment. Despite that, her face held a surprising Cush of color. 

Emelie held her hand. She could feel the warmth emanating from her mother’s skin through her gloves. Greta looked more like she was peacefully asleep than anything else.