The Scorned Bride: His Cruel Vows

Chapter 8- Questions

Thalia's Pov

“M… Marge?” I stammered, my eyes wide, “You… You didn't leave?”

Ever since the day Adrian forced me to come back to the house using Marge to threaten me, I never saw her. So I assumed Adrian had fired her because she was trying to help me. I really didn't expect to see her ever again.

“How... How are you here?” I walked towards her, tears in my eyes, “You need to leave, you really can't be here.” I don't know how she had managed to come back but in this house, if Adrian wasn't around, Corinne's words were law. Nobody dares to defy her.

“Corinne asked people to lock the door... she said no one was allowed to give me food. If she catches you here or hears something about this, she'll punish you. I don't need food, you have to go, Marge.” I begged, my voice shaking now.

Marge didn't look up at me immediately. She quietly walked over to the small table near the window, setting the tray down with care. The warm, rich scent of fresh chicken soup and warm bread instantly filled the quiet bedroom, making my mouth water instantly. But I didn't dare rush to eat.

Marge turned around and looked at me. Her eyes held a serious look as she glanced at the bloody towel I was holding near my shoulder.

“Madam Corinne did lock the door, miss,” Marge said in a low, quiet voice, making sure no one was in the hallway outside. “And she did order the staff to leave you here.”

“Then why are you here?” I asked, holding my robe tight. “If she catches you, she's going to fire you.”

Marge pulled a small silver key from her apron pocket and held it up briefly before sliding it back inside.

“I have my own set of keys to every room in this house,” Marge replied calmly. “And I do not answer only to Madam Corinne.”

I frowned, completely confused. “What do you mean?”

Marge walked closer to me, her voice dropping to a low whisper. “Adrian didn't send me away, Miss Thalia. Before he left for his business trip, he asked me to look after you and make sure you were okay.”

“W… What? Adrian asked you to look after me?” I repeated, the words so unfamiliar in my mouth. Marge nodded, but I didn't believe it.

“Adrian hates me, why would he ask you to look after me? He left because he didn't want to be near me! He threatened you, how can you believe whatever he's saying?” I said quickly, the words spilling out before I could even catch it.

“I don't know what he's thinking, but what I said just now is true. He was the one who asked me to look after you. Even if Mrs Corinne comes in here, she can't do anything to me.”

“Marge, no, you don't understand. She's his mother! Even if she wants to kill me, she can. You can't risk this.”

I gripped Marge’s hand with both of mine, my fingers trembling against her skin. “Please, Marge. You don't know how far they can go. If Corinne finds out you unlocked this door, she won't just fire you, she'll make sure you suffer for it.”

Marge gave me a small, gentle smile, her hands steady and warm against my freezing fingers.

“Don't worry, Miss Thalia,” she whispered, her tone completely calm. “Adrian gave me strict orders. If anything happens, I will take full responsibility. Madam Corinne may run this house when he is away, but she knows better than to go against Master Adrian's direct instructions regarding the staff.”

I shook my head slowly, stepping back. I just couldn't believe Adrian was willing to do something like this for me. It didn't make any sense. I could still clearly remember the deep, suffocating hate in his eyes from last night. I remembered the cold way he spoke to me, the way he called out Aria’s name while holding me.

He could never care for me. He despised my very presence. I understood that much better than anyone else. Was this just another cruel game to him? Was he doing this out of pity, or guilt for what he did before he left.

“Come, sit down,” Marge said softly, cutting off my spiraling thoughts.

She took the towel gently from my hands and guided me to sit on the edge of the bed. Opening the small first-aid kit she had brought on the tray, she pulled out a bottle of antiseptic and some cotton pads.

I winced and closed my eyes as the cold medicine touched the open cuts on my shoulder where Dory’s nails and Seth’s hand had torn my skin. Marge worked with gentle, practiced hands, carefully wiping away the fresh blood and cleaning the wound before placing a clean bandage neatly over it.

“There,” Marge murmured, taping the edges down. “That should stop the bleeding. Now, you need to eat. Your body is too weak.”

She walked over to the small table, picked up the silver tray, and placed it on my lap. The rich, steaming bowl of chicken soup sat in the center, flanked by two thick slices of warm, freshly baked bread.

My stomach gave a loud, painful growl. I picked up the spoon with a shaking hand, my fingers so weak I could barely hold it steady. I dipped the spoon into the warm broth and brought it to my mouth.

The moment the soup touched my tongue, my entire body went completely rigid. The rich flavor, the subtle taste of roasted garlic and fresh herbs, it was so painfully familiar. My throat tightened instantly. The soup tasted so much like the ones from years ago, back when Adrian used to make chicken soup for me whenever I was sick.

Before Aria came, whenever I had a fever or felt down, Adrian would go into the kitchen himself. He would ignore the cooks and spend an hour making a special broth just to make sure I ate something warm. He used to sit beside my bed, blowing on the spoon and forcing me to finish every last drop.

A single, hot tear spilled over my eye, trailing down my cheek and landing right into the soup bowl. Then another followed, and another.

I tried so hard to stop, but the tears just kept dropping silently from my eyes, blurring my vision completely. I swallowed the soup, each bite tasting like a mixture of warm broth and bitter, painful memories.

Marge stood beside the bed, watching me silently. She didn't say a word, nor did she tell me to stop crying. She simply reached out, gently patting my head with her warm hand, letting me cry in the quiet room as I forced myself to keep eating.

Why did things have to be like this? Why did Adrian have to change? Why did Aria have to come? Why?!