~ Clara’s POV ~
When I woke up, my entire body was sore.
My muscles ached, and my eyes felt too heavy to keep open.
I was sweating profusely, and my skin felt hot and sticky.
My throat was dry and it hurt to swallow.
Memories of the gala, Julian’s sneering face, and Evelyn’s cold command swirled in my head like a fever dream.
I had missed breakfast.
And lunch.
And probably dinner.
The world outside my dimly lit room felt miles away.
I had managed to drag myself to the bathroom earlier, but the reflection in the mirror had stopped me cold:
my eyes were swollen and red, my skin was pale, and my hair was a tangled mess.
I’d cursed under my breath and retreated back to the bed.
Around 6 PM, just as the sun finished setting, a soft knock sounded at my door.
My heart gave a weak, tired lurch.
Who could that be?
Another knock followed, a little firmer this time.
Then a third.
“Miss Clara?” a gentle voice called out.
It wasn’t Evelyn.
It was Lyla, the maid.
My mind, foggy with fever, struggled to process why she was here.
Does Miss Evelyn want to see me?
The door creaked open an inch, and she peeked inside.
Her face filled with worry the moment she saw the room.
Over the last few weeks, Lyla had become the closest thing I had to a friend in this house.
She must have realized I hadn’t come out for any of my meals.
“Miss Clara, you haven’t been at the table all day,” she whispered, stepping into the room.
She spotted me then, tangled in the sheets, my face flushed bright red from the heat.
Her eyes widened.
“Oh my goodness, Clara! You’re burning up.”
She rushed to my side, her hand hovering over my shoulder.
“I knew something was wrong. I told the kitchen staff I’d check on you.”
“I’m… I’m okay, Lyla,” I croaked.
My voice sounded like it was coming from the bottom of a well.
“Just a cold.”
“A cold? You’re shivering in a room that’s already warm!” Lyla started to turn, probably to find a cold compress, when the bedroom door swung open fully.
It was Miss Evelyn.
She stood by the doorway, still dressed in the work clothes, looking sharp, and imposing.
Her eyes swept the room, landing first on Lyla, then on me.
She stared at the hair plastered to my forehead and the dark circles under my eyes.
The intensity of her gaze was enough to make me want to pull the blankets over my head and hide.
Lyla, clearly intimidated, took a step back.
“Miss Vance! I was just checking on Miss Clara. She hasn’t eaten all day and seems to have taken ill.”
She didnt say anything, rather walked straight to the side of my bed.
But as she got closer, the expression softened, like she was worried about me.
She reached out, and for a second, I held my breath, wondering what she was about to do.
Then I felt her slightly cold hand pressed against my forehead.
I let out a small, involuntary whimper at the contact.
I saw her jaw tighten, her eyes flashing with a sudden annoyance.
“Lyla, leave us,” Evelyn commanded.
I tried to push myself up, my arms shaking.
“Miss Evelyn, I’m sorry. I’ll be down in an hour, I just—”
“Be quiet, Clara,” she said, and though the words were blunt, there was no ice in them.
She sat on the edge of my bed, something she had never done and pushed a stray, sweat-soaked lock of hair away from my eyes.
Watching her up close made my heart skip several beats.
It was such unfamiliar feeling having her touch me or be this close and strangely I loved it.
She tapped on her phone before bringing it to her left ear, her eyes never leaving mine.
“Francis. Clear my schedule for the next forty-eight hours. Call Dr. Aris and tell him to be here in twenty minutes. I don’t care what he’s doing. Tell him it’s an emergency.”
“Miss Evelyn, you don’t have to stay,” I managed to say, the fever making my heart race even faster.
“You have important meetings with important people”
“They can wait” she said, her voice dropping to that low, authentic tone she only used when we were alone.
Reaching for the water in the pitcher on the nightstand, she poured a glass, and held it to my lips, her hand steady as she supported the back of my neck.
“Drink. You’re dehydrated and you’re talking nonsense.”
The cool water was a blessed relief against my parched throat.
As Miss Evelyn waited for the doctor, she didn’t leave.
She sat on the chair near my bed, not too close, but present.
Too weak to do anything but obey, I watched her.
I saw her perfectly composed features soften slightly, her gaze flicker towards my feverish face with an intensity that felt… possessive, almost.
It was a look I couldn’t understand.
By the second morning, the fire in my blood had finally died down to a simmer.
I woke up feeling light, a little tired but nevertheless today was better than yesterday.
I sat up, my head spinning only slightly, as i wrapped a thick cardigan over my nightgown.
I was thirsty, not for the lukewarm water on my nightstand, but for something warmer.
I crept out of my room.
Reaching the top of the grand staircase I stopped when I heard Miss Evelyn’s voice.
Down in the foyer, seated at the massive table I usually only saw used for mail or decorative vases, was Ms.
Evelyn.
She looked… different, in a good way.
she wore a cream-colored cashmere sweater, the sleeves pushed up to her elbows.
Her hair wasn’t in its usual lethal bun; it was down, falling over her back in dark, elegant waves.
And she was wearing glasses; a round, gold-rimmed glass that made her look less like a shark and more like a scholar.
In front of her were two computers, and a mountain of files, and her fingers flying across a keyboard.
“Miss Evelyn?” I whispered.
The clicking stopped instantly.
Her shoulders dropping about half an inch as she looked up, her gaze sharpening as it landed on me.
“Clara,” Her voice was scratchy, like she’d been talking on the phone for hours.
“You should be in bed.”
“I… I wanted some tea,” I managed, clutching the banister.
“What are you doing? Why aren’t you at the office? Lydia mentioned a board meeting today.”
She simply ignored my questions and turned back to her screen, her expression shifting into that practiced, unreadable mask as she typed away.
“The air conditioning at my office are being revamped and it’s a distraction. I decided it would be more efficient to handle my business for the next few days from here.” She finally answered after pushing the keyboard away.
It was a lie.
A blatant, beautiful lie.
Her company probably had the best ventilation system in the entire country and it importantly it was installed early this year.
‘Could she be staying home for…me?’
“Oh,” I said, my heart doing a strange little flutter that had nothing to do with the flu.
I made my way down the last staircase, moving slowly.
As I passed her to go toward the kitchen, I noticed she was staring at me.
“Lyla is out running an errand. Sit. I’ll bring it to you.”
“Miss Evelyn, you don’t have to—”
“Sit, Clara.”
I sat at the far end of the table, feeling like I was intruding on her private time.
A few minutes later, she returned from the kitchen.
She brought not just a hot cup of tea, but also a tray with a bowl of sliced fruits and two piece of toast.
She set it down in front of me
“Thank you Miss Evelyn..” i murmured, feeling slighly overwhelmed at her actions
As I tried to reach the cup, our fingers brushed.
She didn’t pull away immediately.
Instead, she reached out and cupped my right cheek.
The sudden physical contact on my cheek and the warm sensation of her palm made my light headed.
“The fever is gone,” she murmured, her eyes softening in a way that made my breath catch..
I blinked repeatedly, darting my eyes everywhere but her face, as I didnt know what to say.
“Eat,”
She watched me briefly over her glasses before she sat back down to work..
I sat there for a long time, the warmth of the tea spreading through my chest and for the first time in forever I felt safe.
The foyer was quiet, save for the steady, comforting click of Miss Evelyn’s keyboard.
I found myself watching her, in fascination.
I felt like I could finally breathe.
Like the shadow of the Gala was finally starting to recede.
Then, my phone buzzed on the table.
I reached for it with my free hand but the screen showed an unknown number.
“Hello?”
“You sound terrible, Clara. Is the air in that mansion too thick for you?”
The voice was like a bucket of ice water being poured down my body.
It was Julian.
Smooth, arrogant, and dripping with that familiar, mocking amusement.
My heart stop.
Literally and immediately.
The tea cup in my hand suddenly felt a tad too heavy.
I looked up at Ms.
Evelyn.
She was still focused on her laptop.
I didn’t say anything, I couldn’t.
I just sat there, frozen, as his laughter crackled through the receiver.
“I saw the way you looked the other night,” he continued, his tone casual, as if we were just old friends.
“Clinging to Evelyn like a frightened child. Does she know she bought a broken toy?.”
Without a word, pulled the phone from my ear.
My fingers were shaking, but I forced them to be steady as I tapped the screen, ended the call, and immediately moved to block the number.
I set the phone face-down on the table, my heart drumming against my ribs.
I took a slow, deep breath, staring at my tea, to regain a semblance of control over my feelings.
“Clara?”
I looked up.
Miss Evelyn had stopped typing.
She was leaning back in her chair, her gold-rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of her nose.
Her emerald eyes were narrowed, scanning my face.
She must have noticed the shift in me.
“Who was that?”
Not Evelyn lying just because she was worried about Clara.
would you look at that hehehehe.