Chapter 56 Fifty six
Mira slammed the bedroom door behind her and twisted the lock with shaking hands. For a long moment she stood there, staring at nothing, her chest rising and falling as she struggled to breathe.
Then her knees gave out. She slid down the door until she hit the floor, wrapping her arms around herself as though she could somehow hold the broken pieces together.
The tears came before she could stop them.
She buried her face in her knees and cried until her head throbbed. Every time she closed her eyes, another memory forced itself into her mind.
The first day she’d met Salvatore.
She remembered standing in the foyer trying not to look intimidated while he watched her with those impossible hazel eyes. She’d thought she’d hidden her nerves well.
Now she knew he’d probably been laughing at her inside his head.
She remembered every conversation they’d shared, every sarcastic remark, every smile he’d given her. She’d spent weeks believing she was slowly earning his trust, believing she was getting close enough to uncover whatever he was hiding.
God… He’d known.
Every question she’d asked.
Every lie she’d told. Every excuse she’d made to wander around the mansion.
He’d known all of it. She let out another broken sob.
Then her mind betrayed her again.
The kiss. She squeezed her eyes shut as though she could erase it.
She remembered how she’d kissed him back without hesitation, how she’d melted into his arms instead of pushing him away. She remembered every touch, every whisper, every promise her body had made that her mind never should have allowed.
Then came last night… His hands.
His voice telling her she belonged to him.
Her stomach rolled violently.
She rushed into the bathroom and barely made it to the toilet before throwing up.
When it was over, she stayed on the cold tiles, resting her forehead against the bathtub. She felt filthy. It didn’t matter how many times she washed her hands or scrubbed her skin. She could still feel him everywhere.
“I hate you,” she whispered hoarsely.
She wasn’t even sure anymore whether she was talking about Salvatore… Or herself.
Hours passed without her noticing.
The room grew brighter, then dimmer again as the afternoon slipped away. She never opened the curtains. She never changed out of her clothes. She simply sat on the floor beside the bed, staring blankly at the wall while her thoughts tore her apart.
A knock sounded at the door.
“Hello, Miss?”One of the maids called out, “I brought your lunch.”
Mira didn’t answer.
The maid waited for a few seconds before speaking again. “I’ll leave it outside.”
The footsteps faded away. Mira remained exactly where she was.
She didn’t want food. She didn’t want company.
She just wanted to get the hell out of this house.
Sometime later, there was another knock.
This one was heavier.
“Mira,” Antonio called out. “I know you’re in there.”
Mira stayed silent, staring into blank space.
“You should eat,” Antonio said softly
“I’ll leave you alone,” Mira said, her voice shaking
His footsteps disappeared down the hallway.
Mira hugged her knees tighter. The thought of eating after someone just died made her sick.
By late afternoon, her throat was dry, and her head pounded, but she still refused to leave the room. Eventually, her hunger got the better of her. She unlocked the door and opened it just enough to peek outside.
A tray sat neatly on the floor.
Tomato soup. Fresh bread. Tea.A slice of chocolate cake.
She stared at it for several seconds before anger rushed through her as her stomach grumbled, begging to be fed.
She grabbed the tray and carried it into the bathroom. Disgusted, she threw the soup down the sink. Then the tea followed. The bread landed in the bin.
She crushed the cake into the trash with force before placing the empty tray back outside her room.
“Take it back,” she muttered as she slammed the door shut.
She climbed back onto the bed and pulled the blanket over herself. For the first time in years, she wished she had never become a reporter.
She wished she’d ignored the assignment. She wished she’d never stepped foot inside the Corvin mansion.
Because none of this would’ve happened.
Night settled over the estate. The silence outside her room was almost unsettling.
Then came another knock.
Three soft taps.
She frowned. Nobody spoke this time.
After waiting almost a full minute, she opened the door again.
Another tray.. There was grilled chicken with roasted potatoes, steamed vegetables, fresh fruit, and a bottle of sparkling water.
Her stomach twisted.
He noticed. He’d noticed she hadn’t touched the soup. She clenched her hand into a fist and looked down the hallway; there was nobody there. Just another tray waiting outside her door.
She carried it inside only because she didn’t want it sitting in the hallway.
She placed it on the desk and walked away.
“I’m not eating this.”
Her stomach growled painfully.
She ignored it. Mira tried pacing around the room to distract herself, but the smell of roasted garlic drifted through the room.
Her stomach growled even louder.
She pressed a hand against it. “No, please don't do this.”
Another ten minutes passed. Then twenty.
The hunger and pain became impossible to ignore.
With an irritated groan, she walked over to the desk.
“It’s just food,” she muttered. “Nothing more.”
She picked up the fork. Just one bite. That’s all.
The chicken was warm. Fresh. Not something that had been sitting outside for hours. It warmed inside her mouth, and she hated the relief it gave her.
She took another bite. Then another.
Before she realized what she was doing, the plate was empty.
Mira froze.
She looked down at the clean plate in disbelief.
A sharp ache spread through her chest.
“No…”
Her fingers loosened around the fork. It slipped from her hand and clattered onto the plate.
Tears filled her eyes. She had done exactly what he wanted. She had accepted something from him.
It didn’t matter that it was only dinner.
It still felt like she’d lost.
She covered her face with both hands as another sob escaped her lips. Somewhere in the mansion, Salvatore would know she’d eaten despite her stubbornness
Smiling as he had won … that hurt more than her empty stomach ever could.