SACRIFICE IN WARMTH
__Chiella Cruze's POV__
With my body still aching, I forced myself to rise from the chair and head toward the mansion's kitchen. Every step was heavy, my joints were stiff, and the bruises on my body seemed to protest every movement.
Bi Lin quickly followed me with a look of concern. "Let me help you, Miss. The Young Master surely won't know," she whispered pleadingly.
I shook my head slowly, the pain in my cheek making me reluctant to speak loudly. "It's alright, Aunt, thank you. Brayen's command was clear. I must prepare this lunch myself." I had to obey his order, not just out of fear, but because I knew this was a test of his authority.
"Very well then. I'll attend to other duties, Miss," Bi Lin said resignedly, then left me.
I stood in the center of the main kitchen. The room was immense, constructed of stainless steel and cold marble that reflected the light. The most sophisticated cooking tools lined the counter neatly, almost untouched. I felt incredibly small and isolated within this silent luxury.
I took a deep breath, gathering ingredients from the massive refrigerator. I took fresh vegetables, rice, mackerel, and fruit. It wasn't a luxurious meal, but a simple home-cooked one. I didn't know what kind of food Brayen wanted. I just made a simple meal, whether it suited his taste or not.
I started working. The sound of the knife hitting the cutting board, the hiss of boiling water for the soup, and the aroma of roasted mackerel filling the kitchen were the only sounds in the quiet morning. Every chopping motion, every time I bent down, the injuries on my body screamed. Yet, I forced myself, numbing the pain.
Once finished, I carefully arranged the food into a special lunch box. Vegetables, warm rice, roasted mackerel, and clear soup, plus cut fruit. This was a perfect representation of the purity Vallen sought and the humiliation Brayen offered me.
With the meal prepared, I left the kitchen, rushing upstairs. I had to clean up, conceal the wounds, and prepare myself to go to his office.
After finishing in the bathroom, I stood before the mirror, examining the bruises that were starting to turn blue all over my body. I concealed the wounds as best as I could with powder and concealer, a futile effort to hide the destruction that occurred last night.
I turned to the wardrobe. Ironically, the huge closet only held a few pieces of clothing. All of them were hand-me-downs from my older sister. I was never allowed to have new things; everything I owned was what she no longer wanted. It was quite pathetic, considering my status as the youngest daughter of the esteemed Cruze family.
Nevertheless, I chose the best clothes I had. After all, Brayen Mallen was the CEO of Mallen Group; I had to uphold his reputation in public. I put on a cream A-line skirt and the neatest blouse. But even my best clothes looked worn, a painful contrast to the luxury of the mansion that now surrounded me.
Once ready, I carried the lunch box containing Brayen's punishment. I was escorted by the mansion's private driver.
The luxury sedan glided out of the high gates, entering the hustle of the streets. We moved slowly through Virelle City, which was already heating up under the scorching sun. The city was busy, full of ambition, while in the back seat, I only carried pain, fear, and the duty to deliver his lunch.
This journey was my first venture outside after the wedding, a trip that should have felt pleasant, but now felt like a journey to an execution ground.
Upon arriving at Mallen Tower, I stepped out of the car. The skyscraper looked cold and haughty, reflecting the character of its owner.
I entered the lobby. The room was dominated by shimmering black marble and dark wood panels, exuding an air of suffocating power. I approached the long reception desk, carrying the lunch box.
I announced my arrival. "Good afternoon, I am Chiella Mallen, Mr. Brayen Mallen's wife. I have come to deliver his lunch."
The eyes of the receptionists lined up neatly in their expensive uniforms immediately scanned me from head to toe. They didn't scold me with words, but their gaze was piercing enough. They doubted me, even looked down on me.
I understood the situation perfectly. They saw what I was wearing. These worn hand-me-down clothes, though the best I had, clearly did not match the predicate of a Mallen Group CEO's wife, who should be bathed in luxury.
One of them finally picked up the intercom, contacting the top floor. The conversation was brief, but I could see their faces change slightly, becoming formal and a little surprised.
After hanging up, one of the receptionists bowed slightly. "Apologies, Madam. Mr. Mallen instructed you to return home immediately. We will deliver this lunch upstairs."
Those words, delivered in a professional tone, felt like a second slap. Brayen confirmed my identity, yet still refused my presence. He did not want me to contaminate his office with my presence.
I could only nod faintly. The searing shame choked my throat. I quickly turned, choosing to leave as fast as possible. I ran back to the mansion car, carrying the pain, and now, the unavoidable humiliation.
I jogged toward the exit door of Mallen Tower, trying to escape the shame. Just then, I bumped into someone near the lobby pillar.
Thud!!..
I lost my balance. The hot coffee the man was carrying spilled, soaking his expensive-looking suit and hitting my wrist. The heat stung, turning my skin red instantly.
"Ah, I'm sorry, sir! I didn't mean to!" I said in a panic, the guilt drowning out the pain.
The man, who should have been angry because his suit was stained, reacted very differently. Instead of scolding me, he reflexively held my wrist, which was red from the hot coffee.
His handsome face, with sharp features, looked filled with concern. "Are you alright, Miss? Your hand is red. It must be very hot. Here, let me clean it," he said softly.
I was still frozen. His touch felt foreign, so gentle, contrasting sharply with the rough touches I had just experienced last night. He took a handkerchief from his suit pocket and began cleaning the coffee that stained my skin.
However, as he held my wrist tighter, his attention stopped. His eyes widened in shock, staring at the visible bluish bruises beneath the sleeve of my blouse and on my wrist.
"Miss... are you alright? This is..."
He looked startled, and his deep gaze now shifted from my injury to my face, filled with questions and suspicion.
I felt awkward, panicking for fear of raising suspicion. I pulled my hand away quickly. "Oh, it's nothing, sir. Thank you. And, I apologize for not seeing you earlier," I stammered.
I didn't give him a chance to ask further questions. I hurried toward the waiting car. The man was still standing frozen where we had collided, his sharp eyes staring at my departure with a look full of question marks.