Kelvin forced a smile onto his face, hoping it looked genuine.
“Please don’t worry about it, Mrs.
Ahn.
I understand.
Family comes first.
Besides, I’m fine.
See?” He gestured at himself.
“All in one piece.” But Mrs.
Ahn’s eyes glistened with unshed tears.
“You’re such a kind soul, Miss Kelly.
Most people would have been furious with me for abandoning them in such a state.” “You didn’t abandon me,” Kelvin said, reaching out to pat her hand.
His fingers were slender enough, his voice soft enough—he prayed she didn’t notice the slight roughness of his palm, the calluses from years of manual labor.
“You had an emergency.
These things happen.” Mrs.
Ahn sniffled, dabbing at her eyes with the corner of her apron.
“Is there anything else I can do for you?
I can help you apply ointment to your wounds.
If you have any injuries on your back, I can—” “No!” The word burst out of Kelvin’s mouth louder than he intended.
He softened his voice immediately.
“I mean—no, thank you.
I’m fine.
Really.
I’ve already taken care of everything.” Mrs.
Ahn looked skeptical, her eyes scanning Kelvin’s face, the bruises that painted his skin in shades of purple and blue.
“Are you sure?
It’s no trouble at all.
I’ve raised three children of my own.
I’ve tended to my fair share of scrapes and bruises.” “I’m sure,” Kelvin said, his voice firm but gentle.
“You’ve done more than enough.
Please, go rest.
You must be tired.” Mrs.
Ahn hesitated, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her apron.
For a heart-stopping moment, Kelvin thought she was going to argue.
But then she sighed and nodded.
“Very well.
But if you need anything—anything at all—please don’t hesitate to call me.
I’m just down the hall.” “Thank you, Mrs.
Ahn.
Goodnight.” “Goodnight, Miss Kelly.
Sweet dreams.” She turned and walked toward the door.
Kelvin followed, his heart pounding, and unlocked the door for her.
She stepped out into the hallway, then turned back one last time.
“Get some rest.
Tomorrow is a new day.” Then she was gone, her footsteps fading down the corridor.
Kelvin closed the door, locked it, and leaned against it, letting out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding.
His hands were shaking.
“Close call,” he whispered to himself.
“Too close.” But he was safe.
His secret was safe.
And there was a tray of hot food waiting for him.
Kelvin walked back to the table and sat down, picking up the spoon with renewed vigor.
The soup was perfect—warm, savory, filled with tender chunks of chicken and vegetables.
The bread was soft and buttery.
He ate like a man who hadn’t seen food in days, because in a way, it felt like he hadn’t.
The stress, the fear, the running—it had all burned through his energy reserves.
Halfway through his meal, he paused, a thought striking him.
‘I’m not afraid of Marcus anymore.
My secret is still safe.
And I’m not going to bed hungry.’ For the first time in what felt like forever, Kelvin smiled.
It was a small, fragile thing, but it was real.
“Tonight,” he said to the empty room, “is one of the best nights of my life.” He finished his meal, took the painkillers Mrs.
Ahn had left, and crawled into bed.
The sheets were soft, the pillows were fluffy, and for a few precious hours, Kelvin allowed himself to forget about the chaos of his life.
He let sleep pull him under, into a dreamless void where there were no debts, no contracts, no secrets.
Just peace.
****** The next morning, sunlight streamed through the curtains, illuminating the entire room.
Kelvin stirred, groaning as consciousness slowly returned.
His body felt like it had been run over by a truck.
Every muscle ached, every joint screamed in protest.
His head pounded with a dull, persistent throb, and when he touched his forehead, it was warm to the touch.
‘Great.
A fever.
Just what I needed.’ He forced his eyes open and glanced at the clock on the nightstand.
10:47 AM.
His eyes widened.
“What the—” He sat up too quickly, and the room spun around him.
He clutched his head, waiting for the world to stop tilting.
No one had woken him up.
No one had knocked on his door.
Every morning since he had arrived at the estate, there had been a maid or a servant or Mrs.
Ahn herself, rapping on his door at the crack of dawn, reminding him of his schedule.
But today—nothing.
‘Did they forget about me?
Did Alexander decide to fire me after all?’ Panic clawed at his chest.
He stumbled out of bed, his legs wobbling beneath him like jelly.
His head throbbed, his vision swam, and for a moment he had to grip the bedpost to keep from collapsing.
But the panic was stronger than the pain.
He had to find out what was happening.
He had to get to the company.
He had to apologize to Alexander for what happened last night before the CEO decided to tear up the contract and leave Kelvin and Gabriella to rot.
He dragged himself to the bathroom, turning the shower to cold, hoping the shock of the water would wake him up.
It did—but it also made his feverish body shudder violently.
He gritted his teeth and endured it, scrubbing himself clean, forcing his battered muscles to cooperate.
When he stepped out, he caught his reflection in the mirror.
The bruises had darkened overnight, spreading across his face like a storm cloud.
His left eye was nearly swollen shut, a sickly purple-black ring surrounding it.
The cut on his eyebrow had scabbed over, but it was still raw and ugly.
‘I look like I went ten rounds with a professional boxer and lost.’ But he didn’t have time to dwell on his appearance.
He had a role to play.
He was Kelly Austin, Alexander’s fiancée, and he had to look the part.
He dried himself off, put on his chest binders with practiced efficiency, and slipped into a modest floral dress that Mrs.
Ahn had left in his wardrobe.
He sat down at the vanity and got to work on his makeup.
Today, he took extra care.
He used concealer to hide the worst of the bruises, blending it carefully until his face looked almost normal.
He added a touch of blush to bring color to his pale cheeks.
He lined his eyes, added mascara, and shaped his eyebrows to soften his features.
And finally, he picked up a tube of pink lipstick—bright, cheerful, feminine—and applied it with steady hands.
He was an artist after all.
He put on his wig, adjusted it until it sat perfectly, and examined himself in the mirror.
Kelly stared back at him.
Flawless.
Elegant.
Untouchable.
‘Perfect.’ Kelvin took a deep breath, steeling himself.
He would go downstairs, have breakfast, and then head straight to the company.
He would find Alexander, apologize for slapping him, and beg for forgiveness if necessary.
He would do whatever it took to keep this contract alive.
He walked to the door, his hand reaching for the handle— ‘Knock.
Knock.
Knock.’ Kelvin froze.
To be continued…