Mara's POV
"David—please stop!" I yanked my wrist free from his grasp. He tried grabbing me again, but I jerked away, my pulse hammering. We stood in the hallway, the echo of our footsteps filling the silence.
"Why would you do that In front of him? Are you insane?" I demanded.
He ran a hand over his face, jaw tight, voice low and tense. "You don't get to start. I need to understand what I saw before I lose my mind."
"David—"
"Mara," he cut in, stepping closer, eyes dark. "I saw him kissing you the other night. Your late husband's brother of all people. Explain that to me. How does it make sense?"
"He… he was drunk," I muttered, not looking at him.
"Drunk?" He let out a bitter laugh. "So that excuses him touching his brother's wife?"
I clenched my jaw. "We shouldn't be seen together. We shouldn't even be talking."
I turned to leave, but his hand shot out, gripping my arm again, tighter this time. "And why not? Because you're scared I'll kiss you again?"
My stomach twisted at the memory. "David, stop!" My voice cracked, a mix of anger and frustration. "Do you hear yourself? You don't get to question me like that!"
"And you don't get to walk around acting innocent!" His voice rose, the tension in his body spilling over. "You didn't push him away, Mara! Tell me why?"
My eyes burned—not with guilt, but with the fury of being cornered. "You want the truth? Fine. I froze because I was scared. Not because I wanted him. Scared. Do you understand that?"
His expression hardened. "No. I don't understand. I don't understand anything you do anymore. You're always hiding, shutting me out, running…"
"And you act like you own a part of my life!" My voice broke. "You don't! You're engaged to my sister-in-law, David!"
His jaw tightened until the muscles quivered. "Don't throw Andrea in my face. She's not the point."
"She is the point!" I shouted, tears stinging my eyes. "You want answers while engaged to another woman? How does that make sense?"
He ran a hand through his hair, muttering under his breath. I turned and walked away, hearing him slam his fist against the wall in frustration.
I walked into my office with shaky breath, slumped into my chair, and pressed my palms against my face. Every emotion—from Elias's kiss to David's jealousy to the guilt pressing against my ribs.
When I lifted my head, my gaze drifted to the glass wall. Elias was inside his office, Richard by his side. My breath caught. I stared longer than I should have, remembering the feel of his mouth on mine, the betrayal of my own body.
Then my phone rang sharply, cutting through the haze.
"Clara?" I answered immediately.
Her voice trembled. "Mara… your dad. He was admitted."
My heart stopped. I scrambled to my feet, nearly knocking over my chair. "What?! Is he okay? I'm coming. Now!"
I hung up before she could answer and raced to the hospital. Clara met me as I arrived and guided me to my father's ward. I froze outside the door, hands trembling as I pressed them to the handle, unable to open it.
Tears blurred my vision. It had been months since I'd last seen him. After I married Philip, he had disowned me. How has he been doing since? Does he miss me?
"He's stable now" Clara said softly, placing a hand on my shoulder. "The doctor wants to keep him for a few days. They are running tests."
Relief crashed over me, almost making my knees buckle. I clutched her hands. "Please… make sure he's okay."
"I will," she said, pausing. Then, softly, "Don't you think you should talk to him? He must miss you. How could a father not?"
I shook my head. "No. Don't let him know I came. Please. Don't tell him."
Clara's expression softened. "Mara…"
"Please," I whispered.
She nodded.
I moved to the window beside his room. He lay there, pale, tubes connected, chest rising and falling. Despite our situation, he was the only family I had left. I pressed my hand against the glass, tears spilling freely.
He stirred awake.
I gasped, stepping away quickly, pressing myself against the wall so he wouldn't see me. My hand covered my mouth to muffle the sob.
He almost saw me.
I wiped my tears and quietly paid all the hospital bills. Clara promised again not to tell him.
Night had fallen when I returned to the mansion, carrying the ache of my father all the way home.
But my legs didn't take me to my room.
They carried me to Philip's study.
He was partly the reason I no longer had a relationship with my dad. One mistake, one drunken night that left me pregnant had cost me my family. If only I hadn't gotten drunk. If only things had gone differently. I would've still had my father.
I stepped inside the study, breathing in memories that felt like ghosts clinging to the walls. My fingers traced the edge of Philip's desk as I tried to force the fragments of my dream into a memory.
Why couldn't I remember?
Why was that night locked so tightly inside my head?
Footsteps echoed in the hallway.
My blood froze.
Elias?
If he saw me here, he would have a thousand questions I couldn't answer.
I ducked under the desk, heart pounding so loud I feared the whole mansion could hear it.
Someone entered.
Slow steps.
From beneath the table, all I saw was a familiar fabric.
Not Elias.
Camille.
She moved quietly, almost deliberately, lingering near the drawer beside the desk. I couldn't see what she was doing. She didn't speak. She didn't hesitate.
Then she left as silently as she came.
I waited several seconds before crawling out, my legs shaking.
What was she doing here?
I walked to where she had stood.
My shoe bumped into something on the floor.
I looked down,
picked it up
and my breath stopped.
A small bottle labelled;
Arsenic poison.
My eyes widened as Elias's voice flashed in my memory, talking on the phone about poison being found in Philip's system.
A sharp gasp escaped me.
"Did Camille… kill him?"