Chapter 7
Caroline walked into the dining room expecting Kaisen, the butler. Instead, she found chaos at the table—plates and silverware scattered everywhere—and Dereck sitting there like he’d just finished a meal.
Anger flared hot in her chest. Before she knew it, she’d crossed the room and wrapped her hands around his neck, driven by some sudden urge to confront the man who seemed hell-bent on keeping her starving.
As she tightened her grip, her voice turned childish and singsong. "Dereck, where’s my food? I’m hungry."
Dereck had meant to mess with the "simple-minded" woman, but now he was caught in his own trap. For someone who looked so innocent, she had a grip like a vice.
"Cough... cough... Let... let go..." he wheezed, voice thin and strained as he fought for air.
Just then, a dish shattered somewhere in the room, followed by Kaisen's alarmed cry. "Madam, please release Mr. Palmer! Let him go!"
Kaisen hurried in, rushed to Caroline's side, and pried her fingers off Dereck's throat with effort.
Finally able to breathe, Dereck gulped down air, his face red and marked with her fingerprints. Caroline, meanwhile, felt a dark flicker of satisfaction—though on the outside, she kept up a mask of fear and remorse.
Standing beside him, she trembled and spoke in a shaky voice. "I’m sorry, Dereck. I was just hungry."
As Dereck's breathing steadied under Kaisen's calming presence, his eyes went cold at her timid apology. "Hungry?" he mocked, sarcasm dripping from the word, and a chill crawled down Caroline's spine.
She silently cursed herself for maybe taking things too far—then heard his voice turn even colder.
"Kaisen, tomorrow—no, tonight—send this dangerous fool back to her family. Tell them the Palmers will pursue the Hall family's medical negligence to the fullest extent. Let them deal with the consequences."
Caroline's initial relief at being sent back vanished with his later words. Her revenge—and her mission—were unfinished. Panic set in. She couldn't afford prison. Leaving wasn't an option.
Quickly, she switched tactics, swallowing her pride as she reached for Dereck's hand. He yanked it away sharply.
"Get lost."
She choked down her anger. She had to play this carefully. Jail wasn't part of the plan. Kneeling, she gazed up at him with wide, imploring eyes.
"Dereck..."
When Dereck ignored her, Caroline didn't back off. After all, she was playing the fool. She reached again—this time for his sleeve—her big, doe-like eyes brimming with tears as she faced his unyielding indifference.
"Dereck, I’m sorry. I messed up. I won’t do it again. I promise I won’t cause trouble again."
Tears spilled down Caroline’s cheeks as she pleaded. Her innocent act was flawless—and it grated on Dereck’s nerves. Irritated, he waved a hand dismissively and turned his wheelchair away from her and Kaisen.
"If you don't want to leave, then stay out of my sight. You annoy me."
His exit from the dining room left Caroline feeling victorious. His words were music to her ears, and his aversion was exactly what she wanted. Their paths wouldn't cross, and that was just fine with her.
Kaisen sighed from where he stood, clearly surprised. He had expected her to be sent back to her family, yet here they were. Was Dereck softening toward her? Or was something else at play? With a curious glance at Caroline, he spoke respectfully, "Madam, I'll prepare some ravioli for you."
Caroline nodded, then remembered the crash of dishes from earlier. Turning, she saw the mess near the doorway—a jumble of ravioli, sauce, and broken crockery.
She plopped into a chair, casting an apologetic look toward the chaos Kaisen would have to clean up.
About twenty minutes later, Kaisen returned with a bowl of ravioli, his expression apologetic. "Madam, the ravioli only have eggs—no vegetables. Sorry, the vegetables are rationed daily."
Caroline shook her head and flashed him a broad, feigned-innocent smile. "That’s okay. I’m not picky."
She picked up the fork and started eating, relishing every bite.
Watching her contentedly devour the ravioli, Kaisen wasn't sure whether to feel sorry for Dereck or relieved. His master, once so esteemed, now had an... unusual wife. But as he watched Caroline, blissfully unaware, he couldn't deny a sense of ease. The simple-minded woman was content, and that was peace enough. With a sigh, Kaisen left to continue his duties.
A short while later, he returned with cleaning supplies to tidy up the mess.
Once Caroline was done, she went back to her room, washed up quickly, and collapsed onto her bed. She pulled out her phone, scrolling through the latest news with a smirk.
Her father had capitalized on her marriage, creating a stir in the media.
One headline proudly declared, "Hall Group Successfully Acquires Paris Fashion Company. Hall Group to Become a Leading Private Enterprise in the City, Expanding Beyond Fashion Sales to Include Design and Production."
As she scrolled through the comments, she encountered speculation and hearsay:
Pastinthewind: I heard the Hall Group's daughter married into the Palmer family. True or false?
Steadyking: I heard the same, but isn't the Hall daughter said to be simple-minded?
Windwhisper: So what if she's simple? The Palmer family...
The comment trailed off, left unfinished out of caution.
Caroline chuckled at the gossip before shutting her phone, closing her eyes, and settling down to sleep.
Just as she was drifting off, a loud commotion startled her awake. Groggily, she opened her eyes, got out of bed, and pulled on a coat before opening her door...
Chapter 8
Caroline had just stepped outside when she spotted the butler rushing toward the elevator, a crowd streaming in through the main entrance close behind him. Her brow furrowed. Usually, the mansion housed no one but the butler and Dereck—so why were there so many people here at two in the morning?
Curiosity got the better of her. Caroline quickened her pace and fell in with them, determined to find out what was going on. She reached the elevator, pressed the button, and stepped inside. Just as the doors began to slide shut, a calm voice rang out.
“Hold the door.”
A man carrying a medical kit slipped in, hit the button for the fifth floor, then turned to glance at Caroline. His gaze swept over her outfit—plain pajamas under a light jacket. A brief, amused smile crossed his face.
Trying to fill the awkward elevator silence, he struck up a conversation. “So. You’re the woman True Palmer chose to stay with Dereck?”
Caroline caught the comment, frowned slightly, and said nothing.
The man’s curiosity only grew. “Playing hard to get, are we?”
Caroline dipped her head and rolled her eyes where he couldn’t see. Thankfully, the fifth floor arrived fast.
When the doors slid open, two men who looked like bodyguards were waiting. Surprise flickered across their faces at the sight of Caroline, but they quickly turned to the man beside her, with obvious respect.
“Mr. Sanchez.”
“What’s my cousin’s condition?” he asked briskly.
The bodyguards hesitated, exchanging glances before answering. “This way, sir.”
He caught the urgency they didn’t voice, nodded, and followed them out. Caroline was about to follow when Kaisen, the butler, emerged from Dereck’s room.
Kaisen quickly ushered Sanchez inside, then blocked Caroline at the door. “Miss, please return to your room and rest.”
“Dereck...” Caroline looked up at Kaisen, eyes wide with curiosity.
Kaisen gently guided her back toward the elevator, reassuring her. “Don’t worry, ma’am. Mr. Sanchez is handling Mr. Palmer’s care. He’ll be fine by morning.”
“But... I want to see Dereck.”
At his wit’s end with her naive persistence, Kaisen fell back on Dereck’s words. “Don’t you remember what Mr. Palmer told you tonight?”
Feigning innocence, Caroline blinked up at him, clueless. “What did Dereck say?”
Kaisen nearly muttered to himself. Ignorance really was bliss. She had no idea how bad Dereck’s condition was—and she didn’t seem to care. He sighed. “He said he doesn’t want to see you right now. If you go in there, you’ll only upset him.”
He paused for effect. “And if he gets upset, he might send you back to your family. Is that what you want?”
Caroline nodded, as if she understood. “I don’t want to go back and be mistreated by my aunt and sister!” she muttered, fidgeting with her fingers.
Kaisen watched her step back into the elevator and let out a breath of relief. “Sleep well, ma’am. He’ll be better by morning.”
“Okay,” Caroline agreed. She nodded and headed back to her room. She couldn’t have cared less what happened to Dereck; all that mattered was finishing her mission and getting back to her uncle and aunt in the States.
With that thought, she drifted into a pleasant sleep.
Meanwhile, tension simmered in Dereck’s room. Sanchez worked tirelessly, administering CPR and setting up an IV for the unconscious Dereck until he started to come around.
When Dereck’s eyes finally fluttered open, Sanchez smiled with relief. “Glad to see you’re back.”
“Yeah,” Dereck croaked. “You got here just in time. Better than me being sick overseas and making you fly out.”
Sanchez grimaced, then studied Dereck’s unnaturally pale face. Guilt pinched at him. “Sorry about the poison, cousin...”
Dereck waved him off. “Don’t worry. I’ve posted a query on that medical site, hoping to find a specialist.”
“The specialist? You’re finally taking my advice?” Sanchez asked, surprised.
“Is a miracle worker like that even real?” Dereck shook his head, exhausted. “If someone with your skill set can’t crack it, why would anyone else?”
“Then why bother...?”
“A last-ditch hope,” Dereck said with a shrug.
“Has anyone taken the case yet?” Sanchez asked, hopeful.
“Yeah,” Dereck said. He caught the flicker of excitement on Sanchez’s face—rare, considering the man had been calmer accepting his Nobel Prize.
“Seriously?” Sanchez asked, momentarily at a loss for words.
Dereck let out a quiet chuckle. “I put it out there on a whim. Maybe the hefty reward reeled someone in.”
“They’d better have some real expertise,” Sanchez warned, ever the realist.
Sanchez considered that for a moment, then mused, “Could it be that woman you met in Italy two years ago when you got sick?”