Chapter 3 Fake Death Plan Confirmed
702 Words
Zara's eyes lit up with relief the moment she saw Oscar. She pointed at Noelle's left hand—already swollen and misshapen. "Mr. Pearson! This woman smashed Mrs. Pearson's trophy, then stomped on her hand with her heel!"
Oscar's gaze landed on Noelle's hand. His pupils dilated.
In one swift motion, he grabbed Seren's wrist hard. "You b***h. I let you out because I didn't want to take things further and resort to retaliation. You already ruined one of her hands—you trying to finish her? Get back to your room. Now."
Seren pouted. "Fine, fine. I'll be waiting for you to come 'discipline' me."
She shot Noelle a smug look before disappearing down the hall.
Noelle stared after her, disbelief curdling in her chest.
Someone once made a comment that Noelle wasn't good enough for Oscar. He made sure that person couldn't show their face in Haldor City ever again. But now? Seren practically crippled her, and all he said was "get back to your room"?
Oscar crouched down, gently rubbing Noelle's wrist. "She's basically a child. Doesn't mean any real harm. You shouldn't take her so seriously..."
Noelle cut him off. "What are you going to do to her?"
She locked eyes with him, demanding an answer.
Oscar's hands stopped on her wrist. "I'm thinking of hiring her as a designer at the company. Drown her in assignments. Work her to death. That'll teach her."
The words sucked the air right out of Noelle's lungs.
Working her to death meant giving her a better job?
"You like that? Keeps her where I can see her, plus everyone thinks I'm being generous..." Oscar was practically glowing, pleased with his own brilliance.
Noelle forced the corners of her mouth up. Her lip split open again, blood welling up.
Had he told so many lies that he had started to believe them himself? Since when did Oscar care what people thought?
Whatever tiny flame of hope she'd been nursing guttered out. All that remained was a heavy, suffocating disappointment.
His vows at City Hall still echoed somewhere in her memory. But she was so tired—too tired to love him anymore. "Do whatever you want. I'm going upstairs."
Oscar reached for her. "Noelle..."
His hand closed on empty air. He watched her go—that thin, stubborn back—and started to follow.
"Mr. Pearson!" A servant's urgent voice cut through. "Ms. Knox was drinking water, and she choked. You should come quickly."
Oscar hesitated three seconds. Then he headed for Seren's room.
Upstairs, Noelle's phone lit up with a message: Fake death plan confirmed. Countdown: 13 days.
She typed back instantly: Okay.
Oscar wanted to trample her heart into the dirt. So she'd walk away and never look back.
That night, Oscar sat on the edge of their bed, trying to soothe her. "Come on, don't be upset. You love riding, right? I'll take you to the stables tomorrow."
His voice dripped with gentleness. But when Noelle arrived the next day, Seren was already there.
"I brought her along just in case," Oscar explained. "If something happens to you, she can break your fall."
He turned to get the horses. That's when the stable hands started whispering.
"Mr. Pearson hasn't been here in forever! But I heard Ms. Knox got into riding recently, and now he's here every time she comes."
"More than that! Yesterday she choked on water, and he was feeding her mouth-to-mouth."
"Check out her riding outfit. Hermès limited edition. Mrs. Pearson's doesn't even compare... Looks like the Mrs. Pearson title might be up for grabs."
Every word landed like a slap.
The beautiful stable grounds bled to gray in Noelle's eyes.
Oscar said she loved riding. But she hadn't touched a horse since her right hand got crushed.
Turns out he was talking about someone else.
She felt like a clown, then turned to leave. Just then, hooves thundered behind her.
Seren charged toward her on a massive brown horse, grin sharp and vicious. "We're enemies for life anyway. Might as well see who kills who first, right?"
The horse reared up, hooves slicing the air, ready to come down on Noelle with everything it had.
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