I Hated Him, Now I Cherish Him

Chapter 5

Delilah couldn't bear to hear another word.

Turning on her heel, she fled the training ground in a flustered scramble.

She had no idea how she even made it back to the villa, staggering through the door, utterly broken.

The moment she stepped inside, she issued a stern command to every maid and assistant. No one was to breathe a word about her visit to the training ground today.

Slumping into a chair in the dining room, Delilah sat there utterly shattered. A searing pain ripped through her chest, as if her heart were being torn in two.

So that was why Gavin treated Sierra Miller so differently. They had been bound by a marriage contract all along.

The truth hit her like a physical blow, their feelings for each other were genuine, a mutual affection.

Delilah stared at the table groaning under the weight of meticulously prepared dishes, her eyes brimming with bitter anguish.

Back then, he had declared her cooking utterly unpalatable. Stung and unwilling to accept defeat, she had stolen every spare moment day after day, sweating over the stove to hone her culinary skills. She had clung to the hope that one day she could change his mind. But now, it all felt like a fool's errand from the very start.

When Gavin finally returned to the villa, Delilah was still sitting at the dining table, lost in a daze.

His gaze swept over the untouched feast, and a flicker of emotion crossed his eyes. "Didn't I tell you not to wait for me? Why haven't you eaten?"

Delilah snapped back to the present, her lashes quivering.

She swallowed the bitter ache surging within her and forced a calm smile onto her lips. "You've probably already had a business dinner. I'll have all this cleared away."

Before she could even summon a servant, Gavin walked straight over and sat down in the chair beside her.

Delilah froze for a second, then quickly blurted out, "The food's gone completely cold. Let me get someone to heat it up."

But Gavin simply picked up his fork, sampled a few dishes, and murmured, "It tastes wonderful."

That single, simple compliment sent a fresh wave of suffocating tightness crashing into her already aching heart.

The words tumbled out before she could stop them. "Then I'll cook for you every day, okay?"

As her words hung in the air, Gavin set down his fork. "You've been pampered your whole life. There's no reason for you to slave over a stove for a guy like me, someone who's always sweating it out on the training grounds or trudging through construction sites. And you don't need to stay up late waiting for me to eat. Starving yourself isn't worth it."

A pall of gloom settled over Delilah, dousing every flicker of hope.

A long, suffocating silence stretched between them before she finally forced out a hoarse whisper, "Fine. If you hate it so much, I'll never cook again."

The night deepened, swallowing the world in a hush.

They lay side by side in bed, backs turned to each other, a vast, chilly emptiness separating them.

Inside, Delilah waged a silent battle. Then, trembling with courage, she inched closer. Her hand shook as she slipped her arm around his waist, hugging him gently from behind.

Gavin's breath caught sharply. Her face burned as if a fever had ignited beneath her skin.

Moonlight poured through the window, painting their tangled silhouettes on the glass.

After a night of tender, breathless passion, their bodies glistened with a fine sheen of sweat.

The moment the haze of desire faded, and her mind cleared, Delilah reached up and curled her arms around his neck.

Her voice came out husky and broken. "Gavin... let's have a baby. Please?"

His entire body went rigid, muscles locking like stone.

His breath turned ragged. Through gritted teeth, he forced out a single, brutal word, "No."

It was as if she'd been ripped from a blazing hearth and thrown into a frozen crypt, her entire body turned to ice.

The night fell silent. The warmth evaporated.

Sleep refused to come.

Her mind replayed every poignant memory she'd shared with Gavin in her past life. Then her thoughts lurched forward to the economic crisis that would swallow the city whole in three years, and a cold, gnawing dread coiled tight in her chest.

In the hushed stillness of the room, she couldn't hold back any longer.

Her voice came out in a fragile whisper, "Gavin, what if I went to father and begged him to reinstate you as head of the group's core project? You could take charge of the business again. What do you think?"

The upheaval three years from now was unavoidable. If Gavin could seize real power now, lay out plans and preparations in advance, maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance to turn the tide of tragedy.

But Gavin took it the wrong way.

His voice turned icy. "Since I've already married into the Dupont family, I have no intention of returning to the core management. You don't need to keep hiding behind father's name to test me."

A sharp jab pierced Delilah's heart. She scrambled to explain, "I wasn't testing you at all—"

"It's late. Let's sleep." Gavin cut her off flat, turned his back on her again, and refused to say another word.

Delilah listened to his breathing grow slowly and even behind her. It felt like a heavy stone had lodged in her chest, suffocating and dull, the ache so fierce she could barely breathe.

The next morning.

When Delilah woke up, Gavin was already gone from bed.

The wide, empty space beside her made her heart feel just as hollow.

She waited until dusk before Gavin finally returned to the villa.

Before she could even step forward to greet him, he strode right up to her and dropped straight to his knees.

Delilah nearly jumped out of her skin. "What are you doing? Get up! Quickly!"

Gavin's expression was solemn as he said in a low, grave voice, "There's something I need to ask you for help with."

"Tell me. As long as I can do it, it's no problem," she said in a rush.

"I want you to go plead with father to issue a special waiver. Help Sierra Miller break her contract with the entertainment club and get her freedom back."