Filed to story: When His Wife Can’t Forgive
Alicia froze. How did he guess what she was thinking? Alicia’s eyes flickered. “Not abstinence, but moderation. I’ll decide when we have sex.”
Caden studied her carefully. He leaned back slightly, an air of ease in his expression. “Alright, I’ll listen to you.” Their connection was such that it only took a few minutes for her to be turned on at his whim. He could easily turn the tables. Once the trio to Averibon was planned, Alicia left to handle business.
Caden took out his phone and dialed Hank. “Find two people for me.”
Hank responded, “Mr. Ward, who are they?”
“Ten years ago, the night I graduated high school, on Willow Alley, around eleven at night, two thugs were there. Find out where they are now.”
Hank blinked. Ten years ago? How was he supposed to find that out?
Hank was curious. “Mr. Ward, did you have another argument with your wife?”
Caden just said, “Stop asking questions. Just do as I say.”
The news of Caden and Alicia’s impending visit to Averibon soon reached Corey. Despite Caden’s cautions, Corey continued to monitor their every move. Only by keeping track of Alicia did he feel secure. A question popped up in Corey’s mind: did he need to go to Averibon too? But what would he gain from going, and what were his chances?
Corey sat in his luxurious office, drained by work, his thoughts muddled. In front of him was Gemma’s health report. One item was critically concerning.
He stared at the report for a long time, the cigarette in his hand burning down to the filter, yet he remained indecisive. Finally, he gave up. His shoulders slumped as he picked up his car keys, deciding to go home and spend time with Gemma.
After her recent bout with a mild fever, Gemma had felt lethargic for days.
Pierre tried new recipes every day to ensure she received the essential nutrients.
Initially, too weak to eat on her own, Gemma depended on Pierre’s assistance. Even as her strength returned, she enjoyed the comfort of him feeding her.
With time, Pierre’s visits to Gemma’s room became more frequent, and his caregiving skills improved. His attentiveness rivaled that of Sheila. However, he rarely started conversations. Gemma often prompted him, asking, “Why don’t you ask me who cooks better, you or Sheila?”
Pierre generally had little interest in such light topics, but he played along for Gemma’s sake. “Who do you think cooks better?”
Gemma’s eyes sparkled. “Sheila.”
Without a reaction, Pierre simply offered her another bite of porridge.
“Just kidding. You both cook well. It’s hard to pick,” Gemma teased.
Pierre responded flatly, “Miss Hampton, open your mouth.” He focused solely on feeding her as if ticking off a checklist.
Losing her playful spirit, Gemma murmured, “You’re no fun.”
Pierre gave a nonchalant “Hmm,” then continued feeding her.
Gemma observed his well-formed lips. “You seldom laugh. How high is your laughter threshold?”
“Not very,” Pierre replied.
“Then why don’t you smile?”
Pierre glanced up. “Why should I?”
His reply, though not harsh, disappointed Gemma. “Is talking to me that tedious?”
Pierre pursed his lips. “Somewhat.”
Gemma’s desire to eat waned.
Persistently, Pierre scraped the bowl with the spoon, adding a gentle caution, “I report your meal intake to Mr. Hampton. If he learns you ate only two spoonfuls tonight…”
Pierre scooped up another spoonful.
Gemma disliked his tone but, wary of Corey’s displeasure, ate quietly. “If you’d just smile, I’d finish my meal,” she proposed.
“I can’t fake a smile,” Pierre answered.
“Not even a pretend one?”
“I value sincerity over pretense.”
As dusk settled, Pierre showered and returned to Gemma’s bedroom, taking a seat on the sofa.
With Sheila away, Pierre had been keeping Gemma company in this manner.
Lying on her side, Gemma watched the muscles play under Pierre’s white T-shirt. His time as a boxer had left his arms notably bulkier than average. Curiously, she inquired, “You’re skilled in the kitchen, so what drew you to boxing?” Boxing was dangerous, earning money at the risk of one’s life.
Pierre, lying back, spoke evenly. “Cooking wasn’t a natural talent for me. It took years to master.”
“For a girlfriend, perhaps?” Gemma probed.
“No, I don’t have one.”
She added, “An ex-girlfriend, I mean.”
Gemma recalled his distant gaze had suggested he was reflecting on a past romance. Maybe she reminded him of someone he once cared for, which explained his brief distraction.
Pierre stared at the ceiling, seemingly lost in thought. After a pause, he returned to the present. “Miss Hampton, you should rest.”
Gemma recognized his deflection and sensed he had once loved profoundly. Trying to change the subject, she murmured, “Sheila returns tomorrow, so you won’t have to overextend yourself by then.”
“The workload is manageable,” Pierre responded. “Attending to your needs is part of my job.”
At this, Gemma huffed and turned away from him.
Silence enveloped the room until it was shattered by a knock at the door.
Gemma’s heart skipped a beat as she sat up quickly.
Corey’s voice penetrated the quiet. “Gemma, are you asleep?”
Gemma was taken aback. She hadn’t anticipated Corey’s sudden return, nor had she heard his car arrive. But now wasn’t the time for reflection. She caught Pierre’s eye, signaling, “It’s Corey. Hide, quickly.”
Pierre remained remarkably calm, as his association with Gemma was purely professional. Still, being found alone with Gemma at night broke the rules, and he was liable. Corey was particularly touchy about such matters. Pierre’s safety hung in the balance.
In a moment of survival instinct over pride, Pierre was shoved into the closet by Gemma.
Before Pierre could shut the door completely, Corey stepped into the room.
With a sharp bang, Gemma swiftly shut the closet door, her heart racing with fear.
Corey raised an eyebrow. “You’re not asleep?”
Gemma took a moment to steady her breath before turning to face him, feigning surprise. “Corey? When did you get back?”
“Just now,” Corey explained, his tone measured. “I returned specifically to check on you. I knocked, but there was no answer, so I assumed you were asleep and let myself in.”
Noticing her light attire, Corey took her hand. It felt ice-cold. “You shouldn’t wear so little, even in summer,” he scolded gently. “Your health isn’t the best, and you can’t risk getting sick.”
Relieved Corey hadn’t sensed anything unusual, Gemma observed the weariness on his face and felt a twinge of sympathy. “Have you been working late again?”
“I had a long meeting,” Corey responded, irritation creeping into his voice. “Alicia was overzealous, initiating numerous projects before her departure and leaving them in my lap. It’s been grueling.”
“Did you eat anything?” Gemma asked.
“I did,” he replied, though his lack of appetite had made it difficult. He didn’t want her to worry.
Corey then led her back to the bed and tucked her in, reviving an old childhood routine.
Feeling the warmth inside the blankets, he asked, “You were already in bed just now? Why did you get up all of a sudden?”
Gemma’s heart raced anew. “I was deciding what to wear tomorrow.”
Corey smiled affectionately. “Have you made a choice? What will you wear?”
Inside the closet, Pierre listened, his eyes scanning the array of colorful dresses in the glass wardrobe, each handpicked by Corey. Regardless of her choice, Gemma always looked stunning.
Gemma had grown up cherished and protected. Even battling serious illness, she shone brightly. Unlike his Aitana Newman. Disturbing images flickered through Pierre’s mind, chilling his gaze.
Outside, Gemma’s voice bubbled with excitement. “Averibon? I’ve heard it’s a beautiful, lively city.”
Corey, ever indulgent, responded warmly. “Would you like to visit there?”
Gemma longed to visit, but her fragile health could be a hindrance. “Could you bring some flowers back?” she whispered.
Corey stroked her hair gently, his eyes concealing a hint of despair and sorrow. Such a gentle soul, afflicted by illness-why her? He had pushed ethical boundaries to their limits, yet he couldn’t spare his dear sister from her fate. If possible, he would switch places with her in a heartbeat.
After grappling with his feelings and the harsh reality, Corey seemed to accept the inevitable. “Come with me. Let’s enjoy a few days there.”
Hope lit up Gemma’s eyes. “Really?” she asked.
“Yes.” Corey nodded. “But you must follow my instructions at all times, okay?”
Gemma gripped his sleeve tightly. “Thank you, Corey.”
Once she settled back down, Corey adjusted the room’s temperature.
He then asked nonchalantly, “Why did Sheila go to bed so early?” Mindful of his stringent ways, Gemma avoided mentioning Sheila’s leave. “She retired right after her shift. She’s probably just exhausted.”
“And Pierre?” Corey inquired further. “I didn’t see him at the door when I returned.”
“I’ve assigned him to work outside, alternating shifts with the other guards,” Gemma replied.
Corey nodded, seemingly unconcerned. After leaving the bedroom, he headed to Sheila’s room. As he suspected, she was not there. He shut the door and dialed Sheila.