Giselle stared at my drained face, her eyes burning with a fury colder than ice.
Her lips parted, ready to accuse me of making a scene.
Was I going to walk out over something so petty?
But before she could say a word, Knox’s frail voice rang out from upstairs. “Giselle—”
And just like that, she was pulled away again.
Two days later.
I woke up in a hospital bed after falling into shock, and the first thing I saw was Giselle sitting by the window, calmly reviewing documents.
Our eyes locked, silent and still.
Without a word, she brought over a bowl of cereal and lifted the spoon as if to feed me.
I turned my head slightly.
“I’ll do it myself.”
She said nothing; she just stood there, watching me silently eat half the bowl. Then she finally asked, “Are you feeling unwell anywhere?”
I gave an answer that had nothing to do with her concern. “Please give me my phone.”
Perhaps she heard the distance in my voice because she froze for a moment before signaling the butler to bring it over.
When the phone was in my hand, she noticed the list of missed calls lighting up the screen.
Her voice came quiet but sharp, “Who’s been calling you?”
She never used to ask questions like this.