Chapter 20 Tabitha instruction

Chapter 20 Tabitha instruction
Chapter 20— Lucien’s POV

The house was silent, too silent. Even the clocks seemed to tick with caution, as if they were afraid to disturb the calm. I walked through the hall, my steps echoing on the cold marble floors, and stopped near the kitchen.

“Have you gone to give Susan her food?” I asked the maid, my voice low but sharp, slicing through the quiet.

The maid hesitated, her eyes downcast, her hands clasped in front of her. “Sir… we… we stopped giving Madam Susan food,” she said carefully, almost whispering. “Madam Tabitha… she stopped us a month ago.”

I froze. My pulse quickened. My stomach twisted.

“What?” I shouted, my voice suddenly breaking the calm, reverberating against the walls. “Someone is hungry, and you stop giving her food? How does she eat? How does she survive if no one feeds her? Why didn’t you tell me?”

The maid’s voice trembled slightly. “You always told us to do whatever she wants… we… we were following Madam Tabitha’s instructions.”

I felt my hands clench into fists. My jaw ached from tension. Rage built in my chest, hot and sharp. My mind flashed to Susan—my wife, carrying my child, forced to endure neglect, alone. I could almost see her in my mind, sitting quietly in her room, her stomach aching, her body tired, her eyes hollow from hunger and loneliness.

I couldn’t believe it. My baby. My wife. And she had gone hungry because of this… this wickedness.

I stormed out of the kitchen. My steps were loud, demanding attention. Every person I passed gave way, sensing the storm inside me. My eyes burned with anger.

I found her.

Tabitha. My first love. My past. My past that always had a way of controlling the present. She was standing there, calm, poised, smiling in that infuriating way of hers.

“Why are you so wicked?” I said, my voice low, dangerous, almost trembling with fury. “Why would you tell them to stop giving Susan food? Even if I am not married to her anymore… she’s carrying my baby. She’s pregnant! How do you expect her to eat when she doesn’t step out of the room? How… how could you be so cruel?”

Tabitha’s eyes sparkled, just enough to provoke me. She leaned slightly, her voice soft, almost teasing, almost innocent. “I didn’t… I didn’t. She must have told the maid to lie on her behalf. Tell me… do you believe her over me?”

Her words hit me like ice. Cold and sharp. My chest tightened. I couldn’t believe it. Could I? Could I really trust Susan over her? Could I trust anyone over her?

I opened my mouth to argue, but no words came. My mind reeled, my emotions clashing like storms. Rage. Confusion. A flicker of doubt. A pang of guilt I tried to push aside.

“Are you saying… I should believe the maid over you?” I asked, my voice hoarse, betraying the whirlwind inside me.

Tabitha only tilted her head, her smile calm, unbroken, as if daring me to speak.

“I… I’m sorry,” I said finally, my voice lower now, softer, almost broken. “I… I’m sorry for not trusting you. How could I believe the maid over you? I… I should have listened to you first. I should have…”

The words stopped in my throat. I wanted to scream. I wanted to go back to Susan, to see her, to make sure she was okay, to fix everything. But I couldn’t show it—not yet. Not here, not like this.

The anger lingered, but now it was tangled with something else. Something I didn’t want to name yet. Regret. A cold, hard regret that I had let this happen.

“I… I’m sorry,” I repeated, my voice quieter this time. “I shouldn’t have doubted you. How could I doubt you… even for a moment?”

Tabitha’s smile didn’t change. She only nodded slightly, as if my apology had been the thing she expected all along.

I turned sharply, my mind still racing. But now, in the corner of my thoughts, Susan’s face appeared. Pale. Hollow. Hungry. Alone. My stomach clenched. My chest burned with guilt I couldn’t swallow.

I needed to see her. I needed to know she was okay. I needed to make sure she had food, that she had water, that she… that she was alive and well.

And yet… I hesitated.

Because every time I tried to act, Tabitha was there. Waiting. Controlling. Provoking. Playing the game I had been losing for months.

I clenched my fists again, taking a deep breath, trying to push down the storm of anger, guilt, and fear.

“I… I need to go see her,” I muttered, more to myself than to Tabitha.

Her eyes met mine. Calm. Calculating. Her lips curved just slightly, almost a smirk. She didn’t stop me. Not yet. But the look in her eyes told me this was far from over.

I turned and walked toward the door, my mind already planning, calculating, fearing, and regretting.

Susan… my wife… my child… they were alone, and it had been my fault.

And for the first time in a long time, I felt the weight of what that meant.