Chapter 32
1026 Words
Geraldine’s Point of View
Mike was still in the bathroom while I busied myself fixing our bed. I had taken a shower earlier, so I was already dressed in my nightclothes.
As I straightened the sheets, I froze. A faint rustling sound came from the balcony. The door was slightly open, and with my sharp hearing, I caught the noise easily.
Another assassin?
What clan could they belong to? I had studied assassins long before, memorizing their movements, their habits, their weaknesses. Maybe I even knew this one. And if they knew I was in Mike’s room, then perhaps they were surprised as well.
I slipped my hand into my pocket and pulled out a marble-like weapon I always carried with me.
I put on a thin robe that reached down to my calves, just to cover my nightgown, and walked toward the balcony. I acted casual, as if I only wanted some fresh air, but my body was alert, every sense on edge.
“The air feels good tonight,” I said aloud, pretending to stretch. My eyes darted upward. “Oh? There’s fruit up here?”
I crouched and pretended to pick something up from the tiled floor. My gaze focused on the branches above where I had already spotted him—an assassin who thought I hadn’t noticed. With a swift flick of my marble, it struck his forehead. He slumped, unconscious, and fell from the tree.
I scratched my head lightly. “Eh… no more stones around. Guess I’ll pick the fruit tomorrow.”
“What are you doing?”
I jumped at the voice. My eyes flew to Mike, leaning against the doorframe, his damp hair clinging to his forehead.
“Waaah! You scared me!” I exclaimed.
He walked closer and flicked my forehead. I winced in pain.
“Why would you do that?” I rubbed the sore spot. “I didn’t even do anything wrong.”
“What are you doing out here? What if you get sick?” His tone was firm, like he was scolding a child.
I pouted, pointing at the apple hanging from the tree.
“I wanted to pick that.”
He sighed, massaging his temple as if I were giving him a headache.
“If you want it, call one of the maids—”
“I am the maid,” I interrupted.
“Then tell them it’s my order.”
“I can get it myself.”
I turned back inside, hiding the fact that I had just saved him from danger. He should be thanking me, not flicking my forehead.
I reached for the doorknob when his voice stopped me.
“You’re really going out dressed like that? Are you trying to seduce other men?”
My brows knitted together, and I looked at him in disbelief.
“What? I wasn’t even thinking that. Forget it.”
I walked to the bed instead, throwing the blanket over myself. Better to stay quiet than start another argument.
Moments later, his phone rang. He answered with a simple, “Oh?” but I couldn’t hear the voice on the other end.
He left the room without a word. No explanation. No goodbye.
I sat up on the bed with a pout. Coldhearted as always.
“He’s possessive,” Rafayel’s words echoed in my head. I remembered how Mike had looked at me earlier—his gaze sharp, territorial. He was possessive, yes, but that didn’t mean he loved me. Impossible. Our marriage was nothing but paper, an arrangement. He needed me for his meals. I needed him for his information. Nothing more. No feelings involved.
That was how it should be.
I stood and wandered around the room. My eyes landed on his cabinet. Curiosity tugged at me, so I opened the drawers one by one. Nothing unusual. Then I noticed the picture frame on the dresser. It was from our wedding. My disguise had been intact that day, but somehow he had recognized me.
How? Did he feel me instead of seeing me?
My gaze shifted to the large frame hanging on the wall. Mike was seated in a wheelchair, his eyes closed. My brows furrowed.
“Why do I feel like I was the one tricked here? He can walk perfectly fine.”
I shook my head, letting out a frustrated sigh. Nothing made sense anymore. I walked back to the bed and sat down heavily.
The door opened. Mike stepped inside, carrying something in his hand. I froze when I realized it was an apple—carved into the shape of a rabbit. My lips parted slightly. It was… cute.
He set it on the table without looking at me. I didn’t move, unsure if it was even for me.
“Wife,” he said, finally meeting my eyes from where he sat on the sofa.
I blinked.
“Eat this.”
My eyes widened. I scrambled closer, pointing at the apple. “That’s really for me?”
“Who else would it be for?” he muttered.
“The way you carved it… it’s adorable. Thank you so much!”
“Just eat it. You talk too much.”
I grinned and took a bite. Sweet and crisp. My heart swelled at the thought that he had actually made this for me.
Then I noticed the mug of hot chocolate on the table, topped with marshmallows. Apples and hot chocolate didn’t seem like the perfect pair, but somehow, right now, they felt like comfort.
I didn’t say another word. I didn’t want to ruin the moment. I just ate, savoring everything.
“You didn’t notice anything suspicious in the mansion today?” he asked suddenly.
I nearly choked on my drink. My eyes flew to him, alarmed. Did he see? Did someone report the assassin who had fallen earlier?
“Tell me the truth, Gerry.”
My pulse raced. So that was it. That was why he had given me the apple and the chocolate. It was a bribe. He wanted to make me confess.
Waaa… was this man really trying to use food against me?
******
LMCD22
- Writer
