Chapter 18 Chapter 18
(Martha's POV):
"Martha, you need to be confident that the medicine will work," Mr. Weston said at last, and I felt faint.
"Alright, sir. But I am famished and I am feeling weak. Can I have something to eat?" I asked him weakly, trying to lie back as I felt my head spinning, like I was seeing double.
"Sure. Let me rush and get you some food. What would you like to eat?" Mr. Weston asked with concern, watching my face.
"Hot potatoes and chicken sauce. You can debit the money from my monthly paycheck," I said at last, as his fingers reached for the door and he swung it open.
"Martha, you shouldn't worry about paying me," Mr. Weston said as he swung the door open and dashed out of the room.
I lay on the bed weakly, wondering how my life had become such a mess.
I stretched my hand to reach for the table to pick up my phone and check the time. The huge clock on the wall showed 9 p.m.
Sighing, I wanted to call Bolu, but she called me first.
"Martha, oh my goodness. What happened to you? Your boss said that you are unwell and that I cannot see you. I have been trying to contact you, and your phone was switched off," she said, all in one breath, and I answered her weakly.
"I am sorry. I had a low blood count and my boss said that’s why I fainted, but I am getting better now," I explained, leaving out the fact that I slept with a werewolf or that my boss was a werewolf too.
Bolu doesn't believe werewolves exist; she thinks it's all rumors, and the ruler warning us not to travel across the sea or into the mountains.
"I am glad that you're getting better. Rest well. I will come to see you tomorrow. About what I wanted to tell you—it's your stepsister, Elena, and your fiancé, Mark. I saw them come to my jewelry store today and they both had matching diamond rings. I thought you said that you and Mark are getting married next weekend. Martha, I know that you love Mark, but that guy is openly cheating on you with Elena. You should have seen the way he was hugging her closely. They also bought a pair of matching rings with their initials on them. I advise you not to agree to marry Mark Eliott. You deserve better," Bolu said, her voice laced with anger.
"Don't worry, Bolu. I will not marry Mark. He wants my inheritance and that's why he is fooling me. It's a good thing that I caught him and Elena cheating in her room. I will sue them in court when I am ready," I declared, my tone firm, just as the room door swung open.
Mr. Weston stepped in, carrying a tray of food, and my eyes widened at the sight of my boss serving me. I was sure that he wouldn't want to send any of the staff to avoid them misjudging us or thinking we were in a relationship.
"Martha, I'm glad that you found out. Alright, I will call you back later. Take care," Bolu said.
The call ended and I put the phone away, peering at my boss's face.
"I was calling my friend, Bolu, to assure her that I am fine," I explained to my boss with a friendly smile on my face.
"It's fine, Martha," Mr. Weston replied calmly. "Here's your meal. Should I help you sit up?"
He walked forward to meet me and extended his right hand to help me pull myself up from the bed. My body felt weak, and I felt my head spinning like I would collapse.
Mr. Weston sat next to me on the bed. He didn't mind that I had dirtied his bed or soaked it with my blood. His hand curled around my shoulder as he held me against himself. His masculine, woody scent filled my nostrils and he spoke softly, "Martha, grant me the honor of feeding you?"
My cheeks flamed red and I mumbled, "Sir, I am not your wife or your girlfriend. I can feed myself."
"Shush. You are burning more of your energy by talking. I am not complaining, so let me take care of it." I watched my boss pick up the spoon, cut a piece of potato, and rub it in the tomato sauce.
My stomach growled with hunger, but my boss blew the steam away from the spoon so it wouldn't scald my lips or burn me.
Once he drew the spoon closer to my lips, he fed me softly, and I wondered if he didn't have any work to do.
I was grateful for Mr. Weston's help, and I regretted that I didn't have feelings for him.
Little by little, Mr. Weston fed me until the plate of potatoes was empty and I felt my strength returning.
"Thank you, sir," I spoke softly when he rose from the bed and peered at me.
"Do you want more?"
"No. I am fine. I am not used to eating too much," I pointed out, knowing that I was skinny because I hardly ate much.
"You should eat more. You don't have to worry about the cost. If I had known that you were starving before, because of the cost of feeding yourself and sponsoring your education alone, I would have added more money to your monthly income," he spoke regretfully, and I smiled.
"You don't have to take the blame, sir. I appreciate your kindness," I replied respectfully.
"It's alright. I will leave you to rest. If the blood bag empties, call me. I will help you take it off. And here is my contact in case you need to reach me." Mr. Weston stepped forward and picked up my phone from the shelf.
After he had input his number, a smile curled up his lips as he glanced at me and said, "I already added my contact to your phone. Call me if you need anything. The bathroom is behind that door."
He gestured to the huge black door and I smiled.
"Alright, sir. Good night."
Mr. Weston left the room, and I lay back on the bed weakly. My body felt sore and exhausted, and I wanted a warm bath, but I couldn't even move a muscle.
As I lay on the bed, I drifted off to sleep again.