The Flower That Grew from Ashes novel Chapter 135

The small postcard weighed practically nothing, yet it seared Annelise's fingertips like a red-hot iron.

Under the warm yellow light of the apartment, her pupils dilated sharply in shock.

The anonymous messenger.

The very person who had handed her the fatal clue during that absurd wedding at the Lehman Estate.

He—or she—had actually followed her to Norway.

The words "Welcome back" echoed through the empty apartment like an icy riddle, doubling as a silent warning.

She wasn't coming back; she was escaping.

Who was pulling the strings, and whether they were friend or foe, she had absolutely no idea.

Leaning against the cold door, Annelise slowly slid down until she was sitting on the icy floor.

She turned the postcard over and over a dozen times, the hand-drawn white daisy glaring at her like an eye in the dark, sending shivers down her spine.

Her mind was a whirlwind of confusion, countless thoughts tangling together like a yarn ball mauled by a cat, utterly impossible to untangle.

Eventually, she shoved the postcard behind the framed floral notes in her mother's handwriting.

Out of sight, out of mind. It was her way of temporarily locking away this massive, deeply unsettling mystery.

She slept terribly that night.

Her dreams were plagued by the gilded cage of the Lehman Estate, Lizzie's deranged shrieks, and Hackett's freezing, emotionless eyes.

Then came the blinding, blood-red void on the operating table.

At five in the morning, Annelise jolted awake from the nightmare, cold sweat drenching her pajamas as a tearing agony radiated from her back.

She couldn't fall back asleep.

Once the sun came up, the first thing she did was call Alyssa for the address of a nearby private clinic.

On her third day in Oslo, she had to treat the visible scars she had dragged all the way from Cresthaven.

The clinic was small but impeccably clean.

The faint scent of rubbing alcohol mixed with fresh coffee hung in the air, creating a strangely comforting atmosphere.

Her physician was a tall, middle-aged man with blond hair and blue eyes named Dr. Thomas.

He was a big man, but his movements were incredibly gentle, carrying a professional, warm smile.

When Annelise followed his instructions to remove her coat and hoodie and sat on the examination bed with her back to him, his smile instantly vanished.

"My God."

Dr. Thomas let out a low gasp, taking a subconscious half-step back, his blue eyes filled with absolute horror and disbelief.

Annelise didn't turn around. She simply sat there quietly, hands resting on her knees, staring at the pristine white wall in front of her.

Hanging on the wall was a painting of the Oslo fjords, depicting calm waters and distant, moody mountains.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify