Chapter 41: A Storm Named Melynda
The soft morning sunlight pierced through the gaps in the curtains, landing precisely on a silver tray holding still-steaming abalone porridge.
Agatha leaned against the headboard, which had been piled high with plush pillows. Her face was far fresher than the night before; a faint flush began to return to her cheeks, though her lips remained dry. The IV in her hand had been removed, replaced by a neat bandage that didn't hinder movement.
However, her biggest problem at the moment wasn't the throbbing pain in her back, but the man sitting on the edge of the bed with a spoon in his hand.
"Open your mouth," Xavier commanded flatly.
Agatha let out a long sigh, staring at the spoon with an exasperated look. "Xav, it's my back that was stitched, not my hands. I can eat by myself."
"I don't accept refusals," Xavier shoved the spoon closer, nearly touching Agatha's lips. "Dr. Pierre said you need high-energy intake without much movement. And seeing the way you held the glass this morning, trembling like a grandmother, I don't trust you to hold a spoon without spilling it on these expensive sheets."
"I was trembling because you kept staring at me like a psychopath about to dissect me," Agatha protested, but eventually opened her mouth.
Xavier fed her patiently. Every time a bit of porridge stuck to the corner of Agatha's lips, Xavier's thumb immediately wiped it away with a movement too gentle for a hand accustomed to holding a gun.
"You enjoy this, don't you?" Agatha accused with her mouth full. "Seeing me helpless like this?"
"I enjoy the fact that you are alive and within my reach," Xavier replied casually, scooping up the next spoonful. "Finish it. There are still vitamins, juice, and protein milk."
Agatha glanced at the full tray with horror. "I'm going to throw up if I have to finish all..."
BANG!
The double doors flew open as if forced.
"GOOD MORNING, MY BEAUTIFUL SLEEPING BEAUTY!"
Melynda Valois's high-pitched voice echoed throughout the room, making Xavier reflexively close his eyes and massage his suddenly throbbing temples.
Melynda walked in with the stride of a war general about to invade a country, but looking like a Paris Fashion Week model. She wore a pristine white Chanel suit, oversized sunglasses, and behind her... marched five maids, each pushing a gold trolley.
"Mother," Xavier growled, placing the porridge bowl roughly onto the nightstand. "She needs rest, not a parade."
"Quiet, you ungrateful child!" Melynda waved her hand, shooing Xavier away like a fly. "You take care of her stiffly, boringly, and aesthetically unpleasing. Move! Let the expert work!"
Melynda sat where Xavier had been, gazing at Agatha with sparkling eyes behind her sunglasses. She removed the glasses dramatically, revealing eyes that were puffy from crying the night before but now covered with expensive concealer.
"Oh, my Darling... look at your face," Melynda touched Agatha's cheek with her perfectly manicured fingertips. "Dry. Dull. Lackluster. You look like a beautiful living corpse. But relax! Your mother is here to bring a miracle!"
Melynda clapped her hands twice.
The first maid stepped forward carrying a trolley full of small glass jars.
"This is premium quality bird's nest. Excellent for skin regeneration and wound healing," Melynda explained proudly. "Xavier only gave you porridge? Tsk. Poor nutrition."
The second maid stepped forward carrying a pile of shimmering fabrics.
"These are pure silk pajamas from silkworms that only eat select mulberry leaves. Regular cotton is too rough for your injured skin. From now on, you are only allowed to wear this. Throw away Xavier's ragged t-shirt."
Agatha glanced at Xavier's shirt she was wearing. Comfortable, but in Melynda's eyes, it was trash.
The third maid brought a set of advanced facial spa tools.
"And this! Since you can't shower yet, we will do a facial and hair treatment in bed. I don't want my daughter-in-law to look disheveled when..." Melynda paused, glancing at Xavier meaningfully. "...when the important guest arrives tonight."
Agatha gawked. She looked at the pile of luxury items, then at Melynda who was grinning broadly. All her life, the definition of "care" for her was stitching her own wounds in a public restroom and taking cheap painkillers. No one had ever treated her like a precious porcelain doll like this.
Agatha's throat tightened. A warmth spread through her chest, not from fever, but from emotion. However, seeing this excessive luxury, she felt reluctant.
"Ma'am... this is too much," Agatha murmured softly, returning to the formal address out of awkwardness.
Melynda glared at her. "What did you call me? Ma'am? When you already sweetly called me Mom before? Don't go backward! Call me Mom now, or I'll have them massage your feet right now in front of your husband!"
Agatha chuckled, a genuine laugh even though her eyes were glassy. "Alright, Mom. Thank you."
Xavier stood in the corner, crossing his arms while shaking his head at his mother's antics. "Mother, she just escaped death. Don't kill her with face masks."
"Are you jealous because you're being ignored?" sneered Melynda without looking back. She started opening a jar of face cream. "Go on, take care of the 'package' you want to send. Let Agatha and me have some girl's time."
Xavier's eyes narrowed. He looked at Agatha, asking for approval with his eyes. Agatha just nodded slowly, signaling 'I'm fine, go'.
"Fine," Xavier walked closer, bent down, and kissed the top of Agatha's head in front of his mother and the maids without a shred of shame.
"I'll be back later," Xavier whispered. "Don't let this old woman put clown makeup on you."
"HEY! I HEARD THAT!" yelled Melynda, throwing a silk napkin at Xavier.
Xavier caught the napkin with one hand while smirking, then sauntered out of the room.
After Xavier left, the atmosphere in the room became more fluid. Melynda began applying a cold cream that smelled of roses to Agatha's face with care.
"He loves you very much, you know?" Melynda said suddenly, her voice softening, no longer manic like before.
Agatha opened her eyes, which had been closed enjoying Melynda's massage. "He's possessive, Mom."
"That's the Valois way of loving. Intense. Sometimes scary," Melynda smiled wistfully, her hands still massaging Agatha's temples. "Since childhood, after he returned from Siberia after losing his father... Xavier was always alone. He built high walls around him. Cold. Untouchable. I'm his mother, but sometimes I feel I can't reach him. He's a child who... bears all the burdens."
Melynda looked into Agatha's hazel eyes intently.
"But when he brought you home yesterday... with panic on his face, a bloody shirt, and screaming for a doctor until the veins in his neck popped out... I saw those walls crumble. You destroyed them, Agatha. You made my son human again."
Agatha fell silent. Her heart warmed. That confession felt more precious than all the luxury items on the trolleys.
"I didn't do anything, Mom," Agatha replied softly. "I just... burdened him."
"You survived. That is enough," Melynda wiped the remaining cream on Agatha's cheek with a soft sponge. "And you gave him a reason to come home. For a man like Xavier, home isn't this building, Agatha. Home is a person. And that person is you."
Agatha looked down, playing with her fingers on the blanket. That foreign feeling grew stronger. A sense of belonging. A sense of being protected. A sense of having... a family.
"By the way," Melynda changed the topic quickly, returning to cheerful mode, tapping Agatha's cheek lightly. "We have to prepare you. Tomorrow night there will be a big dinner."
"Dinner?" asked Agatha, confused. "In my condition?"
"Precisely because of your condition!" Melynda's eyes glinted cunningly, exactly like her son's. "Xavier invited a special guest. An old grandfather from Italy."
Agatha's heart raced. Cardios.
"So he's really coming?"
"Xavier already sent the invitation," Melynda chuckled cruelly, as if talking about sending a cake. "And that old geezer won't be able to refuse."
Melynda held both of Agatha's shoulders, looking at her seriously.
"So, my job is to ensure you look perfect. Not as a wounded and weak victim, but as the invincible Queen of Valois. You must look strong, beautiful, and intimidating."
Agatha stared at her reflection in the small mirror Melynda held. Behind her pale face, a fire began to reignite. She was no longer a discarded orphanage child. She was Agatha Arionsa Valois.
"Make me beautiful, Mom," Agatha said firmly, a faint smile etching onto her lips. "I want to welcome that special guest properly."
Melynda grinned broadly, full of triumph. "That's my daughter-in-law! Dion! Bring in the dresses! We have a big job to do!"