Chapter 33: Chapter Thirty-two

After breakfast, Mirabella followed Ashley down the long hallway to her room, her feet sinking into the soft rug that lined the polished floor. Hunter had left them minutes ago, telling Mirabella that he would be busy for the rest of the day before disappearing toward his study. She had only nodded, not daring to ask anything. Before he would drag her along with him.

Ashley’s room was on the opposite wing of the house. When the door opened, Mirabella paused for a second, surprised by the sudden brightness inside. It wasn't as bright as yesterday. Unlike Hunter’s heavy, masculine suite, Ashley’s room was airy and full of color. White curtains fluttered by the tall windows, a vase of fresh roses stood by the bed, and stacks of books lay scattered on the desk beside a half-finished painting.

“Wow,” Mirabella breathed, stepping inside. “What did you do to your room Ash…It’s… really pretty in here.”

Ashley smiled warmly, tossing her long hair back as she motioned for Mirabella to sit on the cushioned chair by the window. “Thank you. You didn't notice the few times you have come to my room, but I like bright things. Hunter’s side of the house is always so dark and intimidating. I don’t know how he stands it.”

Mirabella chuckled softly, folding her hands on her lap. “It suits him though… don’t you think?”

Ashley tilted her head. “Maybe. He’s always been like that. Dark. Intense. You know, the kind of person who walks into a room and makes everyone nervous without even saying a word.”

Mirabella laughed, but she couldn’t deny the truth in Ashley’s words. Even now, sitting in his sister’s room, she could still feel Hunter’s presence echoing in her mind, his voice, his relentless control.

They settled into easy conversation, Ashley sitting cross-legged on her bed.

“So,” Ashley began, plucking a rose petal from the vase and twirling it between her fingers. “What’s school like in New York? I’ve always wondered.”

Mirabella leaned back, thoughtful. “Busy. Loud. There is always something happening. I made a few friends in school, but Aria… she was the only closest friend I had. The only one who really got close to me.”

Ashley smiled knowingly. “Everyone needs at least one real friend. I get it. And you are lucky you had that.”

“Yeah,” Mirabella nodded, smiling faintly. “Aria became like family.”

Ashley leaned forward, curious. “But what about before New York? Did you have friends from childhood? People or someone you grew up with?”

Mirabella hesitated. Her chest tightened with old memories she had buried deep. She pressed her fingers together and finally said, “There was Daniel. My childhood friend. We used to do everything together as kids. But when I left for New York, we lost contact. I haven’t seen or heard from him since.”

Ashley tilted her head, her expression soft. “Oh. Do you… miss him?”

Mirabella looked out the window, her eyes distant. “I guess I got used to not seeing him. Life went on. It’s strange though. I don't really think about my childhood often.”

“It happens,” Ashley said.

“So, what about you? What was school like?”

Ashley sighed and started, “well, I schooled in the US, but I often come back here during holidays. Hunter hardly comes home; he prefers to stay at the penthouse in the club. So whenever I'm here, I stay alone and sometimes go to the club to see him." Ashley stared at her fingers.

“Oh… I can imagine. So what was school like in the US? Had any major difficulties?" She asked.

“Not at all. School was just so so. It wasn't a big deal at all and I got by just fine. Everything was provided for me, so I had no challenges at all." Ashley replied with something like a smile of gratitude on her face.

Silence stretched between them for a moment. A peaceful silence.

Finally, Mirabella broke it. “Ashley… Do you know why your brother hardly comes here? I mean, this house is beautiful. I don’t understand why he’d rather stay away.”

Ashley’s expression shifted, growing more serious. She leaned back against her pillows, staring at the ceiling. “Since our mom died, that’s just how he’s been. When he doesn’t feel attached to something, he leaves. He did the same when our dad remarried. Can you imagine? A woman about his age suddenly calling herself our stepmother? He hated it. He was only twenty when he left home, swore he’d never live under our father’s roof again. And he didn’t. He only went back on extremely special occasions. So he hasn't gone home for a very long time even though dad kept on organizing dinners and get-togethers, he still refuses to attend them. He built his empire with his own hands. Hunter has always been… rebellious.”

Mirabella nodded slowly, absorbing her words. They painted a picture of a man who would not do things because someone wants him to.

Ashley’s voice softened. “We grew up with our cousin Damian.” she sighed. “—things are just a little bit complicated now.”

Mirabella leaned forward. “I saw Damian yesterday. At the club. He and Hunter don’t seem… close.”

Ashley’s lips pressed together. She gave a small, reluctant nod. “They don’t. You know what? Enough of the tense stories. Let's talk about something else.”

The conversation shifted again. Mirabella found herself worrying about Hilda. “My late brother’s girlfriend, Hilda… she wasn’t happy when was moving out of her house to the new place me and Aria found. Neither was she happy when I told her I wanted to get a job at a club.”

Ashley tilted her head. “She must care about you a lot.”

A wide, genuine smile stretched across Mirabella’s lips. “She does.”

But then the smile faltered. Her voice dropped low. “But… I have a problem.”

Ashley’s brows furrowed. “What is it?”

“Hilda wants to visit me. But I keep making excuses. She doesn’t know I’m not staying at my place anymore. And if she finds out I’m here…or that I somehow crossed paths with the person my brother warned me against…” Mirabella trailed off, so much worry flickering in her chest. “She’ll freak out. She’ll think he kidnapped me. In a way, she wouldn’t be wrong.”

Ashley’s lips parted in surprise, then pressed together in worry. She reached across the bed, squeezing Mirabella’s hand. “We’ll think of something. A way for you to meet her without suspicion. Don’t worry.”

She still felt uneasy. Her chest still felt heavy. She felt bad for lying to Hilda and even Aria. But she doesn't want them to worry about her. She has no idea what Hunter would do if they tried to get in his way. So it was for the best.

They talked longer—about small things, about little nothings that made the afternoon pass like a dream. By the time Mirabella returned to her own room for a nap, her eyelids were heavy. Sleep claimed her quickly, wrapping her in a cocoon of quiet.

When she woke, the sky outside her window was tinted with the deep oranges and purples of evening. Her body stretched lazily against the soft sheets.

She didn’t have a shift tonight. Or tomorrow. But even if she did, some instinct told her Hunter would never allow it. He liked keeping her here, under his watch, within reach of his control.

Enough, she told herself. She couldn’t let him keep dictating her life. She needed to have a serious conversation with him. He has to learn to stay the hell out of her personal business.

Pushing the covers aside, she stood and made her way to the door. The air in the hallway was still, so still it made her ears ring. Her footsteps carried her downstairs, and the faint sound of clattering in the kitchen pulled her in that direction.

Maria, the housekeeper, was bustling around the counter, setting washed dishes neatly onto the basket. She looked up with a warm smile when she saw Mirabella.

“Señorita, you’re awake,” Maria said kindly, her accent wrapping around the words like music. “Hungry?”

Mirabella’s stomach growled on cue, betraying her. She gave a small, sheepish smile. “Yes… actually, I am.”

Maria chuckled softly, as if she had expected that answer. “Good. I made sopa de pollo. Chicken soup, fresh and warm. It will be good for you.”

Mirabella’s lips curved into a grateful smile. “Thank you, Maria. That sounds perfect.”

Maria gestured for her to sit at the counter, then placed a steaming bowl in front of her. The rich aroma filled the air—savory chicken, vegetables, and herbs simmered together into something that felt like comfort itself.

Mirabella picked up the spoon and tasted it, the warmth spreading down her throat and into her belly. “This is so good,” she said softly.

Maria’s smile deepened with pride. “I am glad you like it. Food heals the heart as much as the body, señorita.”

For a few moments, silence fell between them, broken only by the sound of Mirabella’s spoon clinking against the bowl. Then curiosity slipped out before she could stop herself.

“Maria,” she asked quietly, “has Hunter… gone out?”

Maria paused, setting down the cloth she had been using to wipe the counter. Her expression was unreadable, calm but knowing. “No, señorita. He is still in the house.”

Mirabella’s spoon stilled halfway to her lips. She lowered it slowly back into the bowl, her chest tightening. “I see, thank you,” she murmured, trying to keep her tone casual.

When she finished the last spoonful, Maria took the bowl gently from her hands. “Rest if you need to,” Maria advised softly. “The house is safe. Don’t carry too much weight in your heart.”

Mirabella gave her a weak smile. “Thank you, Maria.”

She left the kitchen and climbed the stairs back to her room. Once inside, she sank onto the bed, her hands gripping the sheets.

Hunter hasn't gone out. He is somewhere in the house. Maybe in his study.

She lay down, staring at the ceiling, her mind racing.

Should she go to him?

Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she thought about it. If she confronted him, there was no turning back. He was intense, unpredictable. A man who could ruin her resolve with a single look. But if she avoided him, he would only continue pulling strings in her life, controlling her without remorse.

Her heart thudded hard.

She needed her voice. She needed to claim some space for herself.

And yet… part of her hesitated.

Because facing Hunter meant more than just words. Facing Hunter meant facing everything he made her feel—the confusion, the anger, the unwanted pull, the way her body seemed to betray her every time he was close.

Mirabella curled onto her side, her fingers tangling into the blanket. The house was silent, but her thoughts were loud.