Their Wife

Chapter-9

TWO YEARS TWO MONTHS AGO

As I gazed at the bouquet of roses resting on my bed, my headache grew more intense. I felt my knees give away as I struggled to process the situation. I had explicitly asked George not to receive any flowers on my behalf, so how did they find their way here once again?

I hadn't seen Killian Schmidt since the club incident for two weeks, and my memory of that night was hazy as I vaguely recalled getting into a taxi and feeling a mix of shock, fear, and numbness, fueled by alcohol. I remembered crying and trying to wash away my pain in a hot shower. Since that day, I had been too afraid to leave the house, but recently I started receiving scarlet red roses from an anonymous sender. And deep down, I suspected they were from Killian Schmidt.

A dizzying sensation surged through me, causing the room to swirl and the world to dance around like a mischievous sprite. What an unwelcome alarm for a morning that had barely dawned! My head throbbed relentlessly, each swallow causing convulsive contractions, as my gaze fell upon a cluster of enchanting roses concealing a secret treasure - a piece of brown parchment. This was the first instance of him leaving behind any trace of his existence. The mere sight of it sent shivers of trepidation down my spine, unveiling the immense danger this man possessed and the depths of fear that he effortlessly instilled within me.

'You cannot hide forever, Schmetterling.'

The paper lay before me, and my gaze lingered on its surface, unwilling to move. A whirlwind of emotions swept through me, as my breath quickened and my heart underwent a chaotic dance within my chest. Its rhythm shattered, splintered and contorted in a way that seemed incomprehensible. No, it couldn't be true. It simply couldn't. I vehemently shook my head, an act of defiance against the accusations my mind was making. He, of all people, couldn't possibly be here.

Inhaling deeply, I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes, a searing pain that threatened to escape. Just as I was consumed by pure terror, a knock echoed through the door. Swiftly, a surge of anxiousness urged me to gather the sheets and delicately conceal the roses beneath their protective layers. The consequences of Papa discovering this clandestine would undoubtedly damn me. Gently, the door creaked open, revealing the tentative head of our housemaid.

"Ms Morris, breakfast is served. Sir is requesting your presence downstairs," I acknowledged with a nod, as my throat felt parched. She gave me a suspicious glance before departing. As soon as I heard her fading footsteps, I hastily retrieved the damned roses and the letter, swiftly stashing them in the closet and securing it with a lock.

As I stepped into the elegant dining room, my hands quivered with anticipation, mirroring the rhythmic thumping of my heart. Papa's eyes zeroed in on me, capturing my nervous smile. Scarlett leaned in and asked if I was alright, to which I responded with a mere nod, concealing my inner turmoil. As the dishes were placed before us, my appetite faded into oblivion, leaving me with an empty plate and a restless soul.

"It's fatigue, nothing else," I mumbled lowly avoiding Papa's piercing gaze. His thin lips twitched. He didn't believe me, but that was all I could come up with.

Should I tell Papa about the unfortunate event?

Furthermore, I couldn't bring myself to tell anyone. Kilian's threat was clear-still ringing in my head. Papa seemed annoyed, continuously looking at me with suspicious eyes. My brothers and little sister-Scarlett-were however worried. For hell's sake, my hands were fickle.

She eyed me worriedly as Papa cleared his throat.

"There's been an offer for your hand. An important alliance." Papa sneered. The second the words left his mouth, my eyes widened. Anxiousness cleaved my feet to the floor, holding me motionless. I glanced down at my shivering hands. He couldn't be serious, right?