Her voice cut through the air, sharp with jealousy.
“Were you chatting with your cousin again? Or someone else I don’t know?”
I had already booked my flight, and without responding, I turned off my phone.
“Just reading the news,” I replied.
Her displeasure deepened at my words, the furrow between her brows deepening.
Suddenly, she snatched the phone from my hands, demanding my password.
“It’s my birthday.”
Nine years of marriage, and yet she kept entering the simple six-digit code wrong, frustration creeping into her face until the phone locked itself, stubbornly refusing to unlock.
We rode in silence, the tension hanging between us, until we reached our destination.
As soon as the car stopped, her pregnancy nausea hit, and she let Knox help her upstairs to the master bedroom.
Knox, playing the role of the doting husband, ordered the chef to prepare all her favorite dishes.
When she came downstairs, she saw me walking toward the guest room, the sight of my solitary figure striking a chord in her.
For a moment, she hesitated, then turned to the chef and said, “Make two more dishes he usually eats. Set three places for dinner.”
Inside the guest room, I opened my luggage, only to find that my clothes had been slashed to shreds.
Thankfully, the passport and documents I’d tucked deep inside were still intact.
As I began to gather my things and prepare to leave, Knox suddenly blocked the door.
With a black bottle in hand, he looked me up and down with a sneer.
“Milo, I didn’t think you could be this shameless. You’ve become the laughingstock of the entire upper circle, publicly humiliated by me, and you still haven’t left?”
He scoffed, his eyes full of disdain.
“Then again, your old grandma from the Thatcher family passed away last month. Without that big backer, of course, you’re clinging to Miss Deveraux like she’s your only lifeline.”
A thought seemed to amuse him, and he grinned.
“Milo, remember the day you begged and cried for Miss Deveraux to send you to the hospital by helicopter just to see your grandma one last time? Do you know why she didn’t go?”
“Because she had already promised to watch the sunset with me at the beach.”
He held up his phone, showing me a photo.
“Look, this kissing photo was taken at that exact moment.”
I slapped his phone out of his hand and grabbed him by the throat; I couldn’t hold it in any longer.
The bottle in Knox’s hand slipped, and the harsh scent of gasoline hit me instantly.
In the chaos, panic took over, and Knox lit the spilled fuel.
Thick smoke erupted, and flames soon swallowed the room.
Having just been discharged from the hospital, my strength faltered, and I collapsed to the ground, struggling to breathe.
Then, I heard Giselle’s voice, “Milo!”
The sound of servants shouting followed, “Madam, it’s too dangerous! You can’t go in there! Please wait for the fire extinguishers!”
“Move! Milo is still inside!”
Without hesitation, she rushed into the flames.
What she didn’t expect was that Knox was still in there, too.
“Miss, help!”
Before Knox could finish, Giselle dashed toward him without a second thought.
She didn’t even glance at me, turning away without a second look.
Half an hour later, after soothing Knox, she searched the entire villa, but I was nowhere to be found.
At midnight, I stood at the airport.
After mailing a package, I boarded a flight to the UK, coughing all the while.
Just before takeoff, my phone buzzed. A text from Giselle appeared.
[I don’t have time to play hide and seek. Knox has a check-up tomorrow at 10 a.m. You’re coming too to get your lungs checked!]
I didn’t reply.
Instead, I pulled out the SIM card and powered off my phone for good.
Giselle, from that moment on, we were strangers forever.
The next day, at the hospital.
“Giselle, are you okay? Is the baby alright?”
Looking into Knox’s worried eyes, Giselle wrapped her arms around him, her voice soft and tender as she whispered.
