Chapter 24 QUEST FOR THE TRUTH (Demilia’s POV)
“I don’t know!” she snapped softly, pacing the room. “One second he was shouting at someone, the next second he was pointing at me like I was a security threat."
Something cold twisted inside my stomach, making me more nervous and agitated.
Ethan had been acting strange for days… but this? Chasing away Lena...the one person who actually helped me...felt rather calculated.
“Did he seem… drunk? Angry? Sleep-deprived?” I asked.
“He seemed… scared,” Lena whispered.
I froze as the word seemed strange for someone like him.
“Scared?” I echoed.
She nodded quickly. “But not scared of me. It looks like scared of something, shaken. Like he’d discovered something and didn’t know how to handle it.” My breath hitched just as she said that.
Ethan? The man made of stone and fire and unbreakable ego…
Scared? Something is definitely wrong.Very wrong.
“And now you're telling me he chased you out?” I whispered.
“Yes. But one of the maids helped me sneak in through the staff staircase. I had to see you.”
My hands shook slightly as I held out the soup toward her. “Taste this.”
Lena frowned. “What?”
“Something’s different. Taste it.”
She hesitated before dipping her finger inside, pressing it against her tongue. Immediately, her brows pulled together.
“You’re right,” she whispered. “This is different. There’s something added to it, something… bitter.”
A wave of nausea and fear rolled through me.
“Do you think he...?”
“No,” Lena cut in quickly. “Not poison. It’s more like…” She squinted harder. “Medicinal? Something herbal. Something to help the stomach maybe?”
My throat tightened as my thoughts were going wild.
“Lena,” I whispered shakily. “Ethan did something. He must have.”
She looked around again, nervous. “What exactly happened yesterday? You barely told me.”
I swallowed hard, very nervous.
“I fainted in the hallway,” I whispered. “I don’t even know when I lost consciousness. When I woke up… Ethan was there. And then I remember someone touching my wrist. Checking my pulse.”
Lena’s eyes widened. “The doctor?”
“I’m not sure.” But I suspected it was him. And that scared me even more.
Lena crouched in front of me. “Demilia… if Ethan brought a doctor, do you think he...”
“I don’t know,” I whispered, my voice shaking. “I don’t know what he knows or what he suspects. But he did something, Lena. Something to my food, something to me.”
She opened her mouth to reply, but her head snapped toward the door at the same moment I felt it: it was a presence, and a heavy one at that.
It was hovering, listening and watching, making us to both froze. A shadow passed under the door. Footsteps that were slow, calm and controlled.
That was Ethan.
Lena shot up silently. “I should hide,” she whispered. But before she took a step, the door knocked softly.
Once. Twice. Three times. Not a request. It was a command.
“Demilia,” Ethan’s voice slipped through the wood, low and controlled. “Open the door.”
Lena mouthed a desperate No. I shook my head softly.
“Demilia,” he called again, the softness turning into steel. “Open the door.”
Lena sprinted into my bathroom and gently closed it behind her. I hurriedly covered the soup bowl and wiped my face, willing my heartbeat to calm.
I walked to the door slowly, unsure whether to fear him or thank him...or both.
When I opened it, Ethan stood there, dressed in a dark shirt, sleeves rolled up, hair tousled..like he hadn't slept. But the worst part… the part that sent heat and cold rushing through me....
His eyes. They scanned me immediately.
From my face, to my hands, the my stomach. Too closely. Too intensely.
“Good morning,” he murmured, voice low and oddly gentle. “How are you feeling?”
My throat tightened. “Fine.”
“Liar.” His reply was instant.
I stiffened, fury and worried.
He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation. His presence filled the room like smoke...thick, consuming, suffocating and intoxicating at once.
He looked around as if expecting to see someone. My heart dropped. Did he know Lena was here? His gaze returned to me.
“You should be resting,” he said as he moved closer. “You don’t look strong enough to stand.”
I took a step back. “I can take care of myself.”
“I noticed,” he said quietly, his eyes holding something I couldn’t identify. “You’ve been trying very hard.”
My stomach flipped at the mockery. “What is that supposed to mean?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he held out a small pill packet.
“What is this?” I whispered.
“Medicine.”
“Why?”
“You’re sick.”
Sick? When did I tell him that I was sick?
He didn't say that I'm pregnant.
And I'm also not dying.
Just… sick.
But his tone said something else. Something sharper. Something knowing.
“What kind of medicine?” I pressed.
“The right kind.” He lifted a brow. “Take it.”
“I don’t want to.”
His jaw clenched. “Demilia. Take it.”
“You don’t even know what’s wrong with me!” I snapped.
That earned a loud silence. Cold, heavy silence.
Ethan’s eyes darkened...calculating, guarded, dangerous.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” he said quietly. My blood turned cold on hearing that, my thoughts drifting to many possibilities.
“What?” I whispered.
He stepped closer, slowly, like approaching a frightened animal. Every inch he moved, my heartbeat doubled.
“Eat your meals,” he murmured. “Take your medicine religiously, and rest. And stop pretending you’re fine.”
My throat felt too tight to swallow. “Why do you care?”
He froze, like he literally froze at a spot.
As if I had just stabbed him.
His jaw tightened. His chest rose too much. His eyes lowered to the floor, then lifted again to meet mine with a storm behind them.
When he finally spoke, his voice was rough...almost broken.
“You’re… under my roof.”
That was a smooth lie, do easy to say. But also a weak one. A flimsy shield to hide something deeper.
“Ethan,” I whispered, stepping back. “What did you add to my food?”
His eyes didn’t flicker, that would give him away. His expression didn’t change, not even for a second. But his silence answered everything.
“You drugged me,” I breathed. “No,” he said sharply. “I helped you.”
“Without my consent?”
He stepped forward. “You would never have asked for help.”
“I still deserved the truth.” His jaw locked that instant.
“You weren’t ready for the truth,” he said quietly.
My heart raced.
“What truth?”