Chapter 6
When Sylvie woke again, it was to the urgent voice of a nurse.
“How come no one’s watching you? The IV backflowed! This could’ve been really serious!” the nurse scolded.
Sylvie lifted her hand, only to notice the back of it was badly swollen. She picked up her phone and realized seven hours had passed.
Alaric still hadn’t come back.
“Miss, where’s that handsome boyfriend of yours?” the nurse asked as she changed the dressing. “You can’t be left alone with an IV like this. That was dangerous.”
Sylvie forced a smile. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
She made her way down the hall alone, steadying herself against the wall, but the voices drifting through the corridor pierced her like needles.
“That Ms. Pritchard is so lucky. Her stepdad treats her like a princess, and her boyfriend is drop–dead gorgeous!”
“I heard her boyfriend not only booked out the whole VIP floor but even brought in specialists from abroad. He hasn’t left her side all day. With a stepdad and a boyfriend like that, Ms. Pritchard must’ve saved the world in a past life…”
Almost without realizing it, Sylvie found herself standing outside that hospital room.
Through the half–open door, she saw Alaric bent over, carefully adjusting Clarisse’s IV drip, his long fingers turning the dial with delicate precision.
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Chapter 6
Devin sat by the bed, peeling an apple into one long, curling strip, feeding the slices to Clarisse piece by piece.
Suddenly, Sylvie couldn’t breathe.
Hot tears spilled down her cheeks before she could stop them, scalding her skin.
She wiped them away, hard.
“Sylvie,” she whispered into the empty hallway, “who are you crying for? There’s no one left who cares. Don’t you dare cry.”
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When she turned, her back was ramrod straight, her steps brisk and steady.
Only her tightly clenched palm betrayed her, blood seeping from where her nails dug in deep.
Alaric didn’t show up once in the days that followed.
Not until the day she was discharged did Sylvie spot that familiar black Maybach at the hospital entrance.
The window slid down, revealing Alaric’s sharply defined profile.
“Get in,” he said, his voice as cold as ever.
Sylvie turned to walk away.
“You want me to take you right here, in front of all these people?”
She froze, stunned he’d say something like that. He used to threaten her this way, back when it was just a twisted kind of affection. But now that his first love was back, what right did he have?
Jaw clenched, Sylvie got in the car.
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Chapter 6
205 Wraucher
Alaric handed her an auction catalog. “You’ve seemed down lately. Didn’t you always love shopping? I’m taking you to an auction today.”
Sylvie was about to refuse, but as she flipped through the pages, her eyes went wide.
It was Paige’s pearl necklace.
Ever since Thalia moved in, she’d claimed nightmares as an excuse to have Devin clear out every last one of Paige’s belongings.
Sylvie had begged, but all she got was Devin’s cold reply, “She’s dead. Keeping her things around is just bad luck.”
She never expected to see Paige’s favorite necklace here.
Sylvie clutched the catalog so tightly that the paper crumpled in her palm.
Hands trembling, she pulled out her phone and quickly messaged her private attorney, “Sell everything I have in my safety deposit box. Immediately!”
For that necklace, she’d endure any humiliation–even if marrying into that family meant being the butt of every joke.
The auction hall glittered with gold and crystal.
Following Alaric into the VIP section, Sylvie immediately spotted
Clarisse in the reserved seats.
Clarisse wore a white dress and flashed her a sweet, dazzling smile.
“Sylvie!” Clarisse looped her arm through hers with practiced affection. “I told Alaric I wanted to apologize to you at the auction–I can’t believe he really brought you! You two must be so close.”
Sylvie went rigid.
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Slowly, she turned to look at Alaric.
He was scanning the auction list, his sculpted profile cold in the lights, not sparing her a single glance.
So that was it.
He hadn’t brought her because he noticed her sadness or wanted to cheer
her up.
He’d only brought her along because Clarisse wanted to “apologize“—and she was just a convenient prop.
But strangely, the pain she expected never came.
Sylvie only felt an empty ache in her chest, as if a piece had been carved out long ago, and there was simply nothing left to bleed.
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