Kelvin’s hand shook as he pressed the answer button.
He didn’t even wait for Marcus to speak before the words came tumbling out of his mouth.
“Marcus, listen to me.
I promised I’d pay you in four days, and I will.
I swear I will.
I’m getting the money, just give me four more days.
Please.
Don’t go after my sister.
Please, Marcus, I’m begging you—” “Kelvin.” Marcus’s voice cut through his frantic rambling.
But it wasn’t the sneering, mocking tone Kelvin was used to.
It was…
different.
Shaky.
Uncertain.
“Kelvin, I…” Marcus paused.
His breath hitched.
“I’m sorry.” Kelvin froze.
“What?” “I’m sorry,” Marcus repeated, his voice cracking.
“I’m sorry for going after your sister.
I’m sorry for beating you up.
I shouldn’t have done any of that.
It was wrong.
I was wrong.” Kelvin’s mouth opened and closed.
He couldn’t form words.
Was this a dream?
A hallucination brought on by the concussion he probably had?
“Marcus, what are you talking about?” “I’m letting you off the hook,” Marcus said, his words rushing out like he was desperate to get them out before he lost his nerve.
“You don’t have to pay me back.
The debt is forgiven.
I won’t come after you again.
I promise.” Kelvin’s knees buckled.
He sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, the phone pressed so tightly against his ear that it hurt.
“You’re joking.” “I’m not joking.” “Why?
Why are you doing this?” There was a long pause.
When Marcus spoke again, his voice barely sounded like his, it was soaked in fear.
“Just…
don’t contact me again, Kelvin.
Please.
Stay away from me.
And I’ll stay away from you.” The line went dead.
Kelvin stared at his phone, the screen glowing in the dim light of the room.
The call had ended.
Marcus had hung up.
And Kelvin was left sitting on the bed, completely and utterly flabbergasted.
‘What the hell just happened?’ His mind raced, trying to piece together the puzzle.
Marcus, the man who had been hounding him for months, who had threatened his sister, who had beaten him to a pulp just hours ago—had just called to apologize.
Had called to forgive his debt.
Had called to beg ‘him’ to stay away.
Something had happened.
Someone had gotten to Marcus.
Someone had scared him badly enough that he was willing to let go of a debt he had been chasing for months.
But who?
But who?
Kelvin’s mind raced, turning over possibilities like a gambler shuffling cards.
Was it Alexander?
Had the cold-hearted CEO somehow discovered Kelvin’s predicament and decided to intervene?
It seemed unlikely—Alexander barely tolerated Kelvin’s presence, let alone cared enough to solve his problems.
Was it the unknown number?
The mysterious figure who seemed to know Kelvin’s every move?
The thought sent a shiver down Kelvin’s spine.
If that person had enough power to make Marcus disappear from Kelvin’s life, what else could they do?
What did they want from him?
Kelvin stared at his phone, the call log showing Marcus’s name, the conversation that had just ended.
His heart was pounding, a chaotic drumbeat against his bruised ribs.
He should be celebrating.
The debt was gone.
Marcus was gone.
Gabriella was safe.
But he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had just traded one cage for another.
“I need to know,” Kelvin muttered to himself, his thumb hovering over the call button.
“I need to know who’s pulling the strings.” He pressed call.
The phone rang once.
Twice.
Three times.
Then a robotic voice filled his ear: “The number you have dialed is not available.
Please try again later.” Kelvin’s blood ran cold.
He tried again.
“The number you have dialed is not available—” He tried a third time.
“The number you have dialed—” Marcus had blocked him.
Kelvin lowered the phone, staring at the screen like it had personally betrayed him.
Of course.
Of course Marcus would block him.
The coward had said his piece and then disappeared, leaving Kelvin with nothing but questions and a growing sense of unease.
“Unbelievable,” Kelvin breathed, running a hand through his tangled hair.
“Absolutely unbelievable.” He sat there for a long moment, the silence of the room pressing in on him.
His body ached.
His head throbbed.
His stomach growled so loudly it echoed off the walls.
‘Food.
I need food.
And a bath.
And then maybe I’ll be able to think straight.’ Kelvin pushed himself off the bed, his muscles screaming in protest, and shuffled toward the bathroom.
The warm water was a blessing, soothing his battered body, washing away the grime and blood and fear.
He stood under the stream for what felt like hours, letting the heat seep into his bones, trying to wash away the chaos of the day.
But when he stepped out, wrapped in a towel, his stomach let out another furious growl.
He was starving.
He had drank so much on an empty stomach, and now his body was demanding repayment.
But the thought of leaving this room, of walking through the mansion, of potentially running into Alexander— ‘What if he’s waiting for me?
What if he’s been planning his revenge all this time?
What if he’s standing right outside my door, ready to—’ His stomach growled again, more insistent this time.
Kelvin groaned.
“Fine.
I’ll go find food.
But if I get murdered, at least I’ll die with a full stomach.” He began pulling on a fresh set of clothes—loose pajama pants and a baggy t-shirt.
No wig.
No makeup.
No pretending to be Kelly.
Just Kelvin, alone in his room, where no one could see him.
Kelvin wished he could simply go out like that.
But it was impossible.
He let out a long sigh, then he started walking towards his closet about to check for a simple wig to put on incase he ran into someone outside when— ‘Knock.
Knock.
Knock.’ Kelvin’s heart stopped.
‘He’s here.
Alexander is here.
He’s come to kill me.
This is it.
This is how I die.’ Kelvin stood frozen, his breath caught in his throat.
He could feel his pulse in his ears, a frantic drumbeat of fear.
He didn’t move.
He didn’t breathe.
Maybe if he stayed perfectly still, Alexander would think the room was empty and go away.
But then a voice came through the door, and it wasn’t Alexander’s cold, cutting tone.
“Miss Kelly?
Are you awake?” ‘Mrs.
Ahn.’ Relief washed over Kelvin so intensely that his knees almost buckled.
He pressed his forehead against the door, letting out a shaky breath.
“Miss Kelly, I’ve brought you something to eat.
I thought you might be hungry after everything that happened today.” Food.
She had brought him ‘food.’ Kelvin’s stomach lurched with desperate gratitude.
“One minute!” he called out, his voice cracking.
“Just give me one minute!” He scrambled across the room, his heart pounding for an entirely different reason now.
He grabbed the wig from where he had discarded it earlier, his fingers trembling as he pulled it over his head.
He winced as the cap tugged against his bruises, but he didn’t have time to be careful.
He quickly tied on his fake boobs binder and then he snatched a long nightgown from the wardrobe—something flowing and feminine, with lace trimming at the collar.
He took off the pajama pants and t-shirt and then pulled the gown over his head, smoothing it down over his binder.
Then he rushed to the mirror.
He looked…
passable.
The wig was slightly askew, so he adjusted it, tucking stray strands of his own hair beneath it.
The bruises on his face were ugly, but they were just bruises.
They didn’t scream ‘man.’ His makeup was gone, washed away in the bath, but in the dim lamplight of the room, he could pass for a woman who had just woken up from a rough night.
He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and opened the door.
He peeked out first, his eyes darting left and right down the hallway.
Empty.
No Alexander.
No guards.
Just Mrs.
Ahn standing there, holding a tray laden with food.
The smell hit Kelvin like a wave—soup, warm bread, something savory and rich.
His mouth watered instantly.
“Thank you,” he said, ushering her inside quickly.
He locked the door behind them before Mrs.
Ahn could even step fully into the room.
The older woman blinked at him, a curious look crossing her face, but she didn’t comment.
She simply walked to the small table by the window and set the tray down.
“I brought you some chicken soup, fresh bread, and some painkillers,” Mrs.
Ahn said, her voice warm and motherly.
“Mr.
Alexander asked me to make sure you ate something and took your medicine.” Kelvin froze mid-step, his hand reaching for the soup spoon.
“Mr.
Alexander asked you?” he repeated, disbelief coloring his voice.
Mrs.
Ahn nodded, a small smile playing on her lips.
“Yes.
He called me before he went to his study and told me to prepare a meal for you.
He said you must be hungry and in pain after everything that happened tonight.” Kelvin stared at her, his mind struggling to process her words.
“Alexander.
The man I slapped.
The man I humiliated.
The man who threatened to have me arrested.
He sent me food.
He sent me painkillers.
He’s taking care of me.’ Kelvin’s head spun.
What game was Alexander playing?
Was this kindness genuine, or was it part of some elaborate trap?
Was this his ‘last supper’?
The thought sent a chill down Kelvin’s spine.
He imagined Alexander standing over him, watching him eat, a cold smile on his lips as he revealed that the food was poisoned— ‘No.
That’s ridiculous.
Alexander is cold, but he’s not a murderer.
At least, I don’t think he is.’ Kelvin shook his head, clearing the paranoid thoughts.
He was hungry.
The food smelled amazing.
And if Alexander wanted to kill him, he would have done it already, not sent him soup.
“Thank you, Mrs.
Ahn,” Kelvin said, sitting down at the table and picking up the spoon.
“Really.
Thank you.” Mrs.
Ahn clasped her hands in front of her, her expression softening.
“I’m so sorry, Miss Kelly.” Kelvin paused, the spoon halfway to his mouth.
“Sorry?
For what?” “For leaving you earlier,” Mrs.
Ahn said, her voice heavy with guilt.
“When Mr.
Alexander asked me to undress you and check on your wounds, I had to leave suddenly.
There was a family emergency that needed my immediate attention.
I should have been there for you.
I should have helped you.
I’m so sorry.” Kelvin’s blood ran cold.
‘She was the one.
She was the one who unzipped my dress.
She was the one who could have exposed me.’ His heart hammered in his chest as he realized how close he had come to disaster.
If Mrs.
Ahn had stayed, if she had removed his dress, she would have seen his bindings.
She would have realized that Kelly was not a woman.
She would have told Alexander, and Kelvin would have been thrown in jail, his contract torn to shreds, Gabriella’s life hanging in the balance.
But she hadn’t.
She had left.
And by some miracle, she hadn’t seen anything.
‘I am the luckiest man alive.’ Kelvin thought.