Chapter 2

It was a message from Old Man Arthur.

I took a deep breath, feeling a massive weight lift off my chest. The toxic arranged marriage was finally coming to an end.

Without hesitation, I typed back:

[Alright.]

With Arthur's promise, I focused on recovering in the hospital. I didn't even bother to text Ethan.

Perhaps driven by guilt, Ethan began visiting me much more frequently.

However, every time he came, his phone would ring within ten minutes, or an aide would rush in with some ridiculous excuse—Scarlett’s wound was hurting, Scarlett refused to take her meds, Scarlett was having an emotional breakdown—to drag him away.

Unlike before, I didn't scream, cry, or beg him to stay. I didn't even show a hint of annoyance.

I just stared at him blankly.

Before he could even make an excuse, I would tell him, "Go on. The nurses are here to take care of me."

At first, Ethan left without a second thought.

But strangely, the more "understanding" and indifferent I became, the more uncomfortable he got.

Sometimes he would linger at the doorway, casting a backward glance at me. The next time he visited, he brought more things—expensive supplements, designer bags, and jewelry soon piled up in the corner of my room. He would try to make small talk:

"How are you feeling today? Does the wound still hurt?"

Once, when Scarlett called, he actually declined it in front of me.

Of course, he only lasted a few minutes. When the phone rang again, he left with a dark expression anyway.

But I didn't care anymore.

Six days later, I checked myself out of the hospital.

Though I wasn't fully recovered, I was mobile enough. It was time to go back to the Vance estate, pack my things, and prepare for my departure.

The moment I pushed open the front door of our mansion, I froze.

Ethan was sitting on the couch, and Scarlett, her arm wrapped in bandages, was practically melted into his lap.

Their intimacy was glaring.

Sensing someone's presence, Ethan looked up. An awkward look flashed across his face, and he instinctively pushed Scarlett away a little.

"Sera, why are you back so suddenly? Why didn't you let me know you were being discharged so I could pick you up?"

"Scarlett injured her arm, so she can't look after herself. It's not safe for her outside either, so I brought her here to stay for a while until she heals."

Scarlett stood behind him, her eyes practically dripping with smug triumph. She sighed with fake innocence:

"Sera, I’m so sorry to trouble you."

"Ethan was just so worried about me and insisted on taking care of me personally. I really couldn't say no..."

I didn't have the energy to deal with her manipulative BS. My gaze locked onto Ethan.

"Fine."

"Since you're giving her 'personal care,' the master bedroom will be much more convenient. I'll take the guest room. Suit yourselves."

Without another word, I turned and walked upstairs.

But just as I was getting ready to sleep that night, chaos broke out downstairs. Screams of agony from Scarlett and panicked shouts from Ethan echoed from the master bedroom.

I followed the noise.

Scarlett was collapsed by the side of the master bed, her face flushed red and her neck covered in hives.

The family doctor finished a hasty examination and reported to Ethan:

"Mr. Vance, Miss Drake is having a severe allergic reaction. The source seems to be the bedding—it contains cheap, low-grade down feathers, which she is highly allergic to."

Before I could even process this, a young maid piped up, trembling in fear:

"Sir, it wasn't us! The day before Mrs. Vance was discharged, she ordered us to change the bedding in the master room to these specific sheets! We were just following her orders!"

Ethan whipped around, his furious gaze landing on me standing by the door.

"Sera! What did you do to Scarlett?!" he roared.

"Just because I brought her here, you resort to such petty, dirty tricks to poison her? When did you become so damn vicious?!"

I stood there, watching Ethan’s raging face, finding this cheap setup utterly ridiculous.

I couldn't help but sneer back:

"Ethan, Scarlett is your top assassin."

"When she's on a mission, she can tell if a drink is poisoned in a split second. And now you're telling me she couldn't tell her own bedsheets were compromised? Are you hearing yourself?"

Ethan choked on his words for a second.

But he was too blinded by anger to listen. He glared at me with deep disgust:

"Shut up! Scarlett is weak and badly injured right now. It's completely normal for her senses to be dull! You committed this crime, and now you're making up excuses!"

I shook my head. I knew there was no point in arguing with him.

In his eyes, I was already guilty, and anything I said was just a lie.

"If that's what you want to believe, go ahead."

"I have nothing to say."

I pulled my cardigan tighter around myself and turned to go back to my room.

But Ethan wasn't about to let me go.

He lunged forward, blocking my path, and barked at his bodyguards:

"Grab her!"

"You poison someone and think you can just go back to bed? It's not that easy."

Ethan turned to a trembling servant and ordered coldly:

"Go and blend a cup of pure, concentrated mango juice right now."

My entire body shuddered, and I looked at him in absolute horror.

Third Chapter