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The Princess and the Pauper (Arabella)

Chapter 1818
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Serena could feel her spirit, slowly and painfully slipping away from her body.

"Serena, Serena."

A familiar voice softly whispered her name.

Could it be Martha?

It was Martha's voice!

With all the strength she could muster, Serena tried to pry her eyelids open, searching for Martha's silhouette. But all she saw was

darkness, as if she was trapped in a cold and shadowy void, blind to her surroundings.

She was scared, panicked, and she desperately wanted to ask Martha where she was, but when she opened her mouth, no sound

cout.

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"Hold on, you can't die."

Martha's voice was as gentle and resolute as a breeze from the past, "Hang in there, you must."

Tears streamed down Serena's face. How she longed to speak to Martha, but her body was devoid of strength.

She couldn't see Martha, couldn't touch her, didn't know where she was.

She wanted to tell Martha that the Collins had given up on her, truly abandoned her, indifferent to whether she lived or died, left

her to perish in the bone-chilling basement.

She yearned for someone to hold her.

She was so cold.

Her whole body ached with an unbearable pain.

She wanted to leave this place.

The Collins family was only interested in finding her biological father, uncovering the truth behind the hospital fire from years ago,

and exposing the true culprits. They didn't care at all about her wellbeing.

Her heart ached, and she wanted to cry.

But Martha's voice had faded away, replaced only by the cold wind brushing against her frail body, causing her to shiver

uncontrollably.

She felt death approaching.

Perhaps in death, she could be with Martha, be heard, be cared for, be warm.

Meanwhile.

Belinda glanced at the clock; only the last hour remained of the 24 the doctor had mentioned.

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"Can't believe the guy's got such a poker face. Does he think we'll definitely save his darling daughter?" Belinda was surprised.

Erik, always so meek and diligent, had such a ruthless side.

The news had been out for hours. His daughter was about to die, and yet he hadn't shown up.

"The New Year is coming. We can't have someone die in our home." Darren was partly superstitious, partly fearful that her restless

spirit would disturb the peace of their house.

After all, the older generation held strong beliefs in such matters. They didn't want to spend the rest of their days avoiding the

basement, letting it be a constant thorn in their side, a reminder that would only grow more painful with time.

Kenneth and Louisa, Bard and Eunice sat in the living room in silence.

As the seconds ticked by.

Suddenly, a servant crushing in with news, "Mister and Madam, it's Mr. Cooper. He's here with Erik—oh, | mean, he's brought

Erik with him."