Six Years as His Mistress

Chapter 6 You'll Be Fine

When Violet woke again, she found herself lying in a soft, spacious bed. Thick gauze was wrapped around her wrist.

"You're awake." Percival was sitting beside the bed, with faint traces of exhaustion in his expression. "I had the best doctor in Morvani look at your hand," he said. "You'll be fine."

Violet didn't react. Her eyes were open, but there was nothing in them, only a dull, hollow stillness. A flicker of pain crossed Percival's gaze. He scooped up a spoonful of warm soup and leaned closer, intending to feed her.

"Going out of your way like this... I'm afraid I'm not worthy of the trouble." Violet turned her head slightly, avoiding the spoon.

Percival had always been like this, first the blow, then the comfort.

Four years ago, when Cynthia had angered the ruthless Morvani press, Percival had used the same tactic, pushing Violet out to take the backlash.

Back then, he hadn't been as composed as he was now. When he spoke, there had been an unmistakable urgency on his face.

"You're Cynthia's stand-in. She's overseas right now. Someone has to step forward and draw attention. This is the reason you exist."

Just like that, with a few casual sentences, he had completely negated her. It was as if she had been put on this earth solely to act as a human shield for Cynthia Farley.

After Violet agreed, Percival had gently brushed the loose strands of hair beside her ear, his movements soft and almost tender.

"When this blows over," he'd said gently, "how about I take you to Europe for a vacation?"

Back then, Violet had forgiven him easily because she had willingly taken the bait.

But now she had no interest in acting along with Percival anymore.

She had never been a woman who thrived on self-sacrifice just to earn a few pathetic crumbs of affection.

"I know you're furious. I went too far," Percival said, rubbing his brow with a tired sigh. "But it was only to teach you a lesson."

He didn't try to feed her again.

"Cynthia hit you for your own good. You shouldn't have fought back. Since you're awake, go apologize to her tonight."

"If I don't?" Hearing him demand it with such arrogant entitlement, Violet actually found it funny.

"Plenty of people have tried to challenge me before. You know how they ended up."

Percival narrowed his eyes.

The threat was plain.

Violet looked at him quietly for a moment. Then suddenly she smiled. "Alright. I'll apologize to her."

Her obedience was calm, almost gentle. Something about it stirred a strange uneasiness in Percival's chest.

"As long as you understand." He frowned faintly, but in the end said nothing more.

*****

When Violet followed Percival back to the house, she paused for a moment at the door. The place where they had lived together for six years now felt both familiar and strangely distant.

Cynthia was lounging on the sofa, soaking her feet. When she saw Percival come in, her face immediately lit up with a sweet smile.

"Percy, you're just in time." She pouted slightly and lifted one foot toward him. The meaning was obvious.

Percival smiled helplessly, crouching down to take her foot in his hands. He pulled out a cloth and carefully wiped away the water droplets. The motion looked effortless, as if he'd done it a thousand times before.

His sharp profile was focused and calm. Even the simple act of drying someone's feet seemed graceful in his hands.

But Violet wasn't watching him.

Her eyes were fixed on the cloth.

Two swans had been embroidered onto it with delicate, masterful stitching. When the fabric shifted, the silver threads caught the light like flowing water.

Four years ago, Percival had taken that handkerchief from her hands with a teasing smile.

"Swans? Vivi... Are you hoping we'll stay together forever?"

Violet hadn't expected him to see through her so easily. Her face had flushed red in embarrassment.

"If it's something you made for me," Percival had said with a soft laugh, "then I'll treasure it." The way he looked at her when he said that still felt as vivid as yesterday.

It had taken Violet an entire year to finish that handkerchief. Every stitch carried the awkward courage and quiet hope of her first love.

And now, just like the feelings she once thought were so precious, it was being used as a rag to wipe another woman's dirty feet.

"Vivi. Apologize to Cynthia." Percival frowned slightly when he saw Violet standing there coldly.

"Sorry." Violet apologized without hesitation.

Cynthia let out a delicate huff, clearly dissatisfied with how casual it sounded. "Sorry for what?"

Violet didn't answer.

Cynthia grew impatient and looked up, only to meet Violet's eyes that were currently brimming with mocking, absolute contempt.

"Sorry... That I didn't hit you harder." Violet let out a soft, dark chuckle, enunciating every single syllable as a suffocating, terrifying aura suddenly rolled off her.

Cynthia's face instantly drained of color.