The Contract Said No Strings Attached (Charlotte) novel Chapter 116

Garcia jolted upright in bed, heart pounding as she stammered, “Who’s there? Who is it?”

Her voice shook with fear, every nerve in her body on edge.

But the crying didn’t stop. If anything, it grew louder, echoing all around her like it was right by her ear.

Goosebumps prickled along her skin. Clutching the blanket in a white-knuckled grip, she trembled uncontrollably, her body shuddering like a leaf in the wind.

She looked wildly around the room, but saw nothing—no sign of where the sound was coming from. It was as if the entire room, even the ceiling, was haunted by the wailing of children.

That mournful, pitiful sobbing continued: “Waaah… waaaah…”

Panic rising, Garcia scrambled to the bedroom door and grabbed the handle. She yanked hard, but the door didn’t budge.

Her stomach dropped. She pulled again, harder, but it was as if some invisible force had jammed the door shut.

“What’s going on?” she muttered, brow furrowed with confusion. She tried the handle again, but it was still locked tight.

Her anxiety tipped into full-blown panic. She threw her weight against the door, banging and shouting, “Open up! Please, someone open the door!”

The only answer was the echo of her own voice. Outside, there was nothing but silence.

Her cries became more frantic, her breath coming faster: “Help! Somebody help me!”

She hammered at the door until her palms stung and her voice went hoarse. “Is anyone out there? Please! Get me out of here!”

Pressing her ear to the door, she strained for any sound—footsteps, a voice, anything. But all she heard was the frantic thudding of her own heart and her ragged breathing.

Meanwhile, behind the curtains, Ethan and Evan stifled their laughter, hands clamped over their mouths. The terrifying child’s cries were a prank—they’d recorded them on their phones earlier and hidden speakers around the room to play them back.

All the color drained from Garcia’s face. Cold sweat trickled down her forehead, her eyes wide with terror and disbelief.

So this was all Mrs. Austin’s doing?

She’d heard rumors—how the Austin family had only one son per generation, how desperate they were for heirs.

Was that why Mrs. Austin insisted she stay here? So she could give them a grandson—and once she did, she’d be cast aside?

And worse, Mrs. Austin only cared for boys. She despised granddaughters. Was that what happened to this dead little girl—a victim of Mrs. Austin’s cruelty?

It suddenly dawned on her—she wasn’t the first woman brought here to bear an heir for the Austins.

As panic overwhelmed her, Garcia’s mind spun wild, piecing together a dark and sinister conspiracy.