Chapter 5
746 Words
The old butler's eyes lit up with excitement. “This is incredible news! Miss Isabel was abducted when she was only three years old. To finally find her after all these years—it’s a miracle! I’ll return to Sky City immediately and inform the Donovan Family.”
“Not so fast,” Micheal interrupted, his voice sharp. His expression remained calm, but his eyes darkened. “My sister was just a child when she was taken. She’s built a life here, and I won’t shatter it by barging in unprepared. We’ll proceed carefully. No one in Sky City is to know about this yet.”
The butler’s enthusiasm dimmed as realization set in. “Yes, Young Master. You’re absolutely right. If the news leaks, it could attract trouble… or worse.”
Micheal’s jaw tightened. His father’s enemies were always circling, and he wasn’t naive enough to think they’d overlook this revelation. “I’ll observe her quietly while I stay here. Keep this between us,” he ordered, brushing past the butler and toward the sleek black Porsche.
“Yes, Young Master,” the butler replied, bowing low.
Before climbing into the car, Micheal paused, his hand resting on the door. “Uncle Gavin,” he said, his voice softer, “buy a bouquet of white chrysanthemums. Place them at plot 413 in the cemetery.”
The old man blinked. “Young Master, is there…?”
Micheal’s expression betrayed nothing. “Today is my wife’s parents’ death anniversary. She can’t visit because she’s injured. I’m lighting incense for them on her behalf.” Without another word, he slid into the car, leaving Gavin frozen in shock.
---
In the car, Micheal sat in silence as the engine purred to life, his thoughts clouded with conflicting emotions. **Married?** He smirked faintly, though the gesture didn’t reach his eyes. The lie had come so easily, as if it were a truth he’d buried deep.
---
Back at the bungalow, the soft sound of rain tapping against the windows greeted Micheal as he opened the door. His gaze immediately fell on Hazel, curled up on the floor like a discarded doll. Her pale face contrasted against her dark hair, her lips faintly quivering in her restless sleep.
Micheal’s brows knit together. Why wasn’t she on the bed? His sharp eyes caught the makeshift bedding she’d crafted, and irritation flared in his chest. **She gave up the bed for me? Stupid woman.**
As he stepped over her, he hesitated, his conscience tugging at him. Turning, he studied her face—delicate, peaceful, and entirely unaware of the storm brewing in his life. **She’s tougher than I expected, but she doesn’t belong in this mess.**
He sighed, leaning down. Gently, he slid his arms under her and lifted her off the cold floor. She stirred slightly, her warm breath brushing against his neck. Micheal’s grip instinctively tightened, a strange protectiveness coursing through him.
He placed her carefully on the bed. As he adjusted the blanket over her, his eyes caught the laundry hanging by the window. His own shirts, freshly washed, hung neatly, the faint scent of lemongrass filling the room.
He glanced back at Hazel’s swollen hands and chafed fingers. Surprise flickered across his face. **A pampered little lady, hand-washing bloodstained clothes? Interesting.**
Micheal straightened, turning away, but his chest tightened as Hazel stirred again. Her slender frame shifted closer to the warmth of the blankets, and her nightgown rode up slightly, exposing the soft curve of her leg.
He averted his gaze, tugging the fabric back down brusquely. **I’m not here to take advantage of her.**
But then, Hazel’s leg shot out, catching him squarely below the belt.
A muffled groan escaped Micheal’s lips as his entire body tensed. His cold, composed face twisted in pain, and he shot a death glare at her sleeping form.
Hazel, oblivious to the havoc she’d caused, shifted again, draping her other leg over Micheal’s waist like he was her personal body pillow. She sighed contentedly, smacking her lips as she nestled closer.
Micheal’s glare darkened. “Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath, fighting the urge to toss her onto the floor. He glanced at her peaceful expression, her delicate features relaxed in slumber, and sighed in resignation.
Pulling the covers over them both, he turned his back to her. “If you kick me again,” he whispered coldly, “I’ll leave you outside to freeze with the wolves.”
!
- Writer
