The Real Heiress Rules the World (Sloane Rivers) novel Chapter 390

Chapter 390 Milk Baths

Chapter 390 Milk Baths

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Sloane was suddenly transferred to a lavish suite; through the floor-to-ceiling windows, she could even see the endless stretch of blue sea. The woman had even arranged for a doctor to treat her external injuries- especially the scar on her face-and the doctor tended to her with unusual care.

Sloane noticed this at once, though she couldn’t understand why.

During this time, two tall, heavyset Virelia women guarded her without leaving her side. They spoke English with a strong accent. Since Sloane never uttered a word, they assumed she couldn’t understand them.

That day, they brought in water for her bath again-bucket after bucket of milk carried inside.

Ever since she had been moved here, they forced her to soak in a milk bath for one hour every day.

As they poured the milk into the tub, the two women muttered to each other in dialect.

The heavier one grumbled, “We don’t even get milk to drink, and here they waste it on her bath. What a shame.”

The thinner one cast a wary glance at Sloane, who sat with her eyes closed as though resting, and lowered her voice. “Don’t you know? Only half of the people who went out to get milk yesterday came back…”

Together, their eyes flicked toward Sloane in the bath, their expressions conflicted. The heavyset maid couldn’t resist brushing her fingers along Sloane’s arm, only to snatch them back as if burned. “So soft… like a baby’s…”

The thin maid suddenly let out a strange, nervous laugh. “The boss even ordered roses from France-just for her bath.”

Footsteps sounded outside the door, and the two women instantly fell silent.

After bathing, Sloane sat alone before the mirror. She lifted a hand to study her now smoother, more delicate skin and sank into thought. What do they want with my skin? One thing was certain, if that woman was nourishing my skin so carefully, it was not out of kindness.

Late at night, a bloodcurdling scream tore Sloane from her sleep. Barefoot, she crept to the window and peered into the courtyard. In the moonlight, several shadowy figures were dragging something bloody across the stone path.

The figure left a dark red trail on the ground. Sloane held her breath, her pupils constricting sharply-it was a body, naked and pale, the skin so unnaturally white it looked as if… as if it had been flayed.

“Another failure…” one guard muttered bitterly. “That’s the third already.”

From among the shadows came the woman’s cold, cutting voice. “Useless! You can’t even manage the most basic skin processing!” The scalpel in her hand gleamed under the moonlight. “Throw it to the sharks.”

Sloane’s fingers dug into the window frame. At last, she understood-the milk baths, the careful treatments. The woman wasn’t pampering my skin, she is preparing it.

In the distance came the splash of the shark pool, followed by the sickening sound of tearing flesh. Sloane

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7:14 pm P p pp

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