"Then what?" Dawn Sutherland's voice trembled.
"Then—" The security guard recalled the events of the party that night, his eyes distant, "I wanted to take Miss Grant to the hospital, but she smeared the pink marks on her neck with the blood on her forehead, then deliberately placed her hair over her chest to cover those faint marks, turned around, supporting herself on the staircase railing, and went upstairs step by step with difficulty."
"Miss Grant refused my suggestion to take her to the hospital, telling me to return to my post and not to worry about her. But at that time, I saw Miss Grant's leg was quite seriously injured; with every stair she climbed, her brows furrowed deeply, her face turned pale, and sweat beaded on her forehead..."
The security guard's words fell into Dawn Sutherland's ears one by one, like sharp blades slicing through his heart, causing an unbearable pain.
