Chapter 285

Chapter 285
Ophelia’s POV

I lay in bed after a long shower, my body finally recovering from the fever I'd contracted during my impulsive midnight visit to Finnegan's mansion. After helping Riley with his math homework, I'd retreated to my guest room.

My phone rang, breaking the evening silence. My heart leapt, hoping it was Finnegan, but Edward's name flashed across the screen instead. I hesitated before answering.

"Hello?"

"Ophelia? How are you? Just finished working overtime," Edward said, his voice tired but warm. "Haven't had a chance to rest yet."

"Working so hard?" I asked, guilt already building in my chest.

"While I'm young, I should earn as much as possible. It'll come in handy when I have a family to support someday." The implication hung in the air between us.

"I heard you caught a cold," he continued.

"Just a minor one. I'm better now," I replied, tracing patterns on the silk sheets—Finnegan's sheets.

"I have tomorrow off," Edward said suddenly. "I'm thinking of flying to London to see you."

My heart sank. "No, don't! You think I'm just on a domestic business trip? Edward, I'm in London! The flight alone takes over ten hours—it's too exhausting!"

"To see you, even that much effort would be worth it."

"Please don't." My voice softened. "Edward, you really don't need to go to such lengths. It's just a small cold. When you do things like this... it makes me feel guilty."

The line went quiet for a moment.

"Edward," I finally said, deciding to be honest, "there can never be anything between us! I'm sorry, please forgive me, but... I can't love you! I already have someone I care for, and I'm with him right now."

The weight of my words settled between us.

"The necklace you gave me—I haven't been wearing it. When I return, I'll give it back to you..."

Edward remained silent for several seconds before simply hanging up. The abrupt dial tone left me staring at my phone. Perhaps I'd been too harsh, but a clean break was better than prolonged suffering.

How ironic that in my relationship with Finnegan, I was playing Edward's role—desperately chasing someone who kept pushing me away. The thought made me both frustrated and determined.

After several minutes of internal debate, I dialed Lance's number.

"Mrs. Shaw—I mean, Ms. Clarke," he answered formally.

"Is Finnegan deliberately avoiding me?" I asked bluntly.

"I'm not with Mr. Shaw at the moment," Lance replied cautiously.

"I don't believe you. Give me his number, Lance."

After some resistance, Lance finally relented and provided Finnegan's direct line. My fingers trembled slightly as I dialed.

"It's me," I said when he answered.

"Hmm," came his noncommittal response.

"Why didn't you come home last night?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Since when do I need your permission to return to my own home?" His voice was cold. "Ophelia, you're merely a temporary guest, not the lady of the house. Mrs. Green tells me you've fully recovered. Tomorrow I'll have Lance come pick you up with your luggage."

"So you admit you're deliberately avoiding me by not coming home?"

"I'm not accustomed to sharing living space with women," he stated flatly.

"If you hate me so much, why bring me to your home in the first place?!" I snapped. "What's wrong with you?!"

I hurled my phone against the wall in rage, watching it shatter into pieces. Tears spilled down my cheeks as frustration overwhelmed me.

"Just because I love you? You bastard!" I shouted into the empty room.

I wiped my tears angrily. "Want me to leave? Fine! I'll do exactly the opposite! I don't believe you'll stay away from this house forever!"

In a surge of defiance, I went to the bathroom and filled the tub with cold water. I hauled ice from the freezer and dumped it into the water, watching it float in chunks. Without hesitation, I stripped and lowered myself into the frigid bath.

The shock of cold made me gasp. My teeth chattered violently as my skin prickled with pain, but I refused to get out. My stubborn nature wouldn't let me give up—if this was what it took to make Finnegan notice me again, so be it.

I don't know how long I stayed there, my lips turning blue, my limbs growing numb, when Mrs. Green's voice penetrated my consciousness.

"Ms. Clarke! What are you doing to yourself?" she cried, rushing to wrap a towel around my shivering body and helping me from the tub.

"You mustn't abuse yourself this way," she scolded, her voice thick with concern as she called for the private doctor.

Through chattering teeth, I heard her on the phone: "Mr. Shaw, something's happened to Ms. Clarke..."

The doctor arrived quickly, administered medication, and left instructions for my care before departing.

I drifted in and out of consciousness, vaguely aware of renewed activity downstairs—hurried footsteps, a door slamming.

Finnegan had returned.

"How is she?" His voice carried up the stairs.

"Ms. Clarke has developed a high fever again, sir," the butler reported. "And it appears her hands and feet may have suffered frostbite..."

Heavy footsteps approached, followed by the sound of my bedroom door being thrust open.

The sound reverberated through the room like a thunderclap, making poor Mrs. Green scurry downstairs to avoid the brewing storm. I barely had the strength to turn my head, but I knew who it was without looking.

Finnegan sat in his wheelchair, his hands trembling with rage, his blue eyes blazing as they took in my pitiful state—pale face, blue-tinged lips, feverish gaze.

"What's the point of this little drama?" he demanded, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

I bit my lower lip, shame washing over me. I'd succeeded in bringing him back, but at what cost? My selfishness had worried my family and now, seeing the fury and pain in his eyes, I realized I'd gone too far.

"Is this what you've resorted to?" he continued, his voice growing colder. "Torturing yourself just so you can stay here? Is your life really that worthless to you, Ophelia Clarke? Or are you simply that cheap?"