Chapter 15
1114 Words
Geraldine’s Point of View
My eyes stayed closed as I listened to the chaos around me. Footsteps, voices, panic. They thought I was unconscious. Honestly, why panic? Everything was going exactly as I planned.
“Where’s the medic?” I heard a commanding voice.
So he was worried? Funny. Wasn’t he the one who bullied me earlier?
The truth is, I’m used to situations like this. Collapsing in a cloud of pesticide is nothing compared to the intense training I’ve had before. This little incident barely scratched the surface of my endurance.
When I finished cleaning the cabinet earlier, I was ready to leave—until I realized the door was locked. I knew right away it wasn’t Mike who did it. No, it reeked of childish spite, the kind of trick someone petty and insecure would pull.
So I did what any clever woman would do. I lay flat on the floor, where the air was cleaner. Before that, I dampened my handkerchief and pressed it against my nose. That way, the toxins in the air couldn’t reach me as easily. It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough.
Did karma strike me too quickly for killing those cockroaches? Maybe.
But then strong arms lifted me, and suddenly the heavy air was replaced by the subtle fragrance of him. Mike. His scent was clean, masculine, with a trace of something expensive but understated. My face was buried in his neck, and for a fleeting moment, I inhaled him shamelessly.
He carried me into the living room and gently laid me on the sofa. A pillow was tucked under my head, and the maids fluttered around in panic. All this, when I was only half-asleep from exhaustion.
I tilted closer into his neck, ready to continue my nap, but then—he pulled away. My safe little pillow was gone.
Reluctantly, I opened my eyes, blinking at the faces leaning over me. Concern filled their eyes.
“Am I in heaven already?” I mumbled. “Oh no… this angel looks just like Master.”
“You’re still in the mansion,” Manang scolded gently. “And you’re very much alive.”
I sat up slowly, feigning weakness, letting my gaze drift over the worried faces of the staff. Then my eyes locked on someone in the crowd. I didn’t need proof. My instincts told me who locked that door.
I smiled faintly, pretending not to know, and turned toward Mike, who was still watching me with uncharacteristic concern. My jaw cracked in a small yawn just as the medic arrived.
“I’m here!” the medic announced breathlessly.
I widened my eyes theatrically. “What’s going on? Why am I on the sofa? I was just… sleeping there.”
“Sleeping?” Mike repeated, his brow furrowed.
I nodded sheepishly. “I got sleepy while cleaning the dirty kitchen. After I finished, someone locked me inside, so I thought, why not just nap on the floor? For a moment, I even thought you locked me in, Master.”
His eyes sharpened. “It wasn’t me.”
“I know,” I said sweetly, though my eyes darted to the culprit again. “But still… I sprayed pesticide and someone locked me inside. Sounds like an inside job, doesn’t it?”
Gasps filled the room.
“Oh no!” I pressed my hand to my chest dramatically. “Does that mean someone wanted me dead? How cruel. I only work hard here every day, and still, there are jealous people willing to hurt me. Maybe it’s because I’m too cute.”
A few of the maids snickered nervously, but Mike’s expression only grew darker.
“Whoever did it will pay,” he said flatly. “No one dirties my mansion with blood. And if that’s what it takes to find the culprit, then so be it.”
His words sent a shiver down the room. He wasn’t exaggerating. When Mike spoke like that, he meant it.
“Master, please eat your lunch. We’ll take care of Girlie,” Manang said, breaking the heavy air.
He glanced back at me one more time before leaving. My lips involuntarily pouted at his retreating figure, but I quickly turned to the others with a bright smile.
“I’m fine. Really. Sorry for worrying everyone.”
They nodded, though still uneasy. One maid, Jane, moved closer. “Are you sure you’re alright?”
“Of course. I just napped a little too long,” I assured her.
But then, Cook raised her brow at me and gestured discreetly toward the dining hall. It was clear what she wanted: I should go to the Master.
We walked together, and soon enough, I found him seated at the long table. His eyes flicked to the dish before him.
“What kind of food have you made this time?” he asked, his tone more curious than usual.
“Beef steak,” I answered.
He looked at me, waiting.
“What else should I say? Beef steak is beef steak,” I replied with a teasing tilt of my head.
“Are you mad?” he asked, his brows lifting.
I sighed softly, shaking my head. “Not at all. It’s a tender, juicy steak seared perfectly and served with a rich garlic herb gravy. I paired it with roasted vegetables and mashed potatoes—something hearty, comforting, and satisfying.”
His lips tugged upward. A smile. A real one. Slowly, he nodded.
“And the soup?” he asked.
“Lentil or vegetable, with whole-grain crackers and a side salad,” I answered smoothly.
“It looks delicious.”
“Then try it, so you can finally eat.”
He lifted the spoon, ready to taste the soup, when suddenly the door burst open.
“Don’t eat that, Master!”
Everyone froze. A maid stood at the threshold, her voice sharp with urgency. Cook blinked at her in confusion.
“What are you doing here? Aren’t you assigned to the garden?” Manang demanded.
The maid’s eyes darted to me. “Don’t eat it. She put something in the soup.”
My breath hitched. I bent closer to the bowl and sniffed. My heart dropped. She was right—someone had tampered with it.
All eyes turned to me.
“What did you put in it, Girlie?” Mike asked, his gaze like steel.
I lifted my eyes to the accusing maid, whose lips curled into a hidden smile she thought no one else noticed. My own eyes narrowed.
So it was her. That wicked woman.
Inside, I burned. You little snake. She put something in my dish too!
******
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