Filed to story: My Husband Regrets Divorcing Me (Audrey & Cornell)
Davey pondered, his brow furrowed in contemplation. Those guards were his handpicked finest, meticulously chosen for their skills and loyalty. Was this drunken vagrant truly what he seemed, or was there more to him than met the eye?
Regardless, one thing was clear. Action was needed.
Davey swiftly dispatched a team to his overseas manors to demolish the entire opulent underground complex beneath the estate. He commanded them to bury it beneath layers of earth, erasing any trace of its existence.
For days now, he’d been overseeing the dismantling of similar subterranean hideouts in various locales.
Davey was meticulous, methodical, and cautious in his actions, guided by the ancient wisdom that “a ship that sails a thousand years is built with great care.”
But now, Davey let out a small, sinister smile. A new challenge had presented itself.
Stepping out of the car, Davey planted one foot firmly on the ground, a portrait of confidence as he faced his manor. Straightening his suit, he appeared vibrant and energetic at first glance. Yet, a closer inspection unveiled the icy blaze smoldering in his eyes.
A sinister smile crept across his lips as he surveyed his domain.
Anyone daring to disrupt his plans would meet only destruction!
Instead of going to Casey’s room as usual, Davey summoned the butler to seek information on the day’s events.
The butler dutifully recounted the mundane events he had observed, none of which seemed noteworthy to him.
Swirling the crimson wine in his glass, Davey arched an eyebrow.
“You’re saying Casey requested a cup of brown sugar water?”
Brown sugar water? A mysterious smile lingered on Davey’s lips. Casey was fastidious about her drinking water, insisting solely on mineral water airlifted from high-altitude springs, a preference Davey consistently accommodated, steadfastly maintaining this routine.
Even the most casually poured glass of water for Casey originated from these deliveries. Even if she suffered from amnesia, she would undoubtedly discern the water’s flavor.
However, her sudden request for brown sugar water appeared unrelated to a shift in taste. Rather, it seemed she believed that asking for such a beverage might marginally inconvenience the butler, perhaps a means to occupy his time.
Observing the disquieting grin persisting on Davey’s countenance, the butler sensed a shiver of unease. He inquired cautiously, “Mr. Glyn, is there cause for concern?”
“No,” Davey replied tersely, his demeanor unchanged as he swiftly drained a glass of red wine, then placed it on the table with a resounding “clink.”
Rising slowly, Davey ordered, “Please commence the search for a new family doctor.”
The butler paused, gathering his thoughts before cautiously asking, “Mr. Glyn, has Dr. Hinks committed an error…”
Davey merely raised his eyelids, fixing his gaze on the butler.
Suddenly, the butler found himself unable to continue, a cold sweat forming on his back. He had spoken too freely!
To the bulter, Jimena had always conducted herself admirably, leaving a positive impression on him and often gifting him with homemade soaps and scented candles. Those were not lavish gifts, and he saw no harm in accepting them.
Furthermore, they aligned with his preferences, especially the scented candles Jimena claimed contained medicinal herbs. He relied on it nightly, finding solace in its scent, a welcome respite from the insomnia brought on by the specters of his past misdeeds haunting his dreams.
Over time, the butler had become reliant on the scented candles, deeply grateful to Jimena for its soothing effects.
Nevertheless, his appreciation for these small tokens had not diminished his scrutiny of Jimena. Indeed, as someone raised by Davey, adherence to their duties was almost a religious conviction. Yet, unbeknownst to him, his attitude toward Jimena had significantly softened.
When emotions came into play, mistakes were inevitable, just as they were now, when the butler should have refrained from speaking.
The butler felt an urge to slap himself. Bowing his head respectfully, he stated, “Mr. Glyn, I will attend to it immediately. Dr. Hinks’s records will be disposed of along with her termination.”
Davey withdrew his gaze, a faint smile on his lips. “I almost thought I might need to find a replacement for a butler, too.”
Though his tone hinted at the jest, the butler understood the seriousness beneath. The word “replace” hinted at a brush with peril!
Thankful for regaining his composure swiftly, he had salvaged his own life.
Every fiber of the butler’s being quivered with the lingering fear.
Davey turned around, instructing, “Make sure to handle it properly this time.”
“Yes, Mr. Glyn!” the butler replied, his voice firm and resolute.
Only after Davey had disappeared from his sight did the butler’s tense muscles finally relax, beads of sweat dripping dramatically from his forehead to the floor. He had been utterly terrified as if he had traversed the very gates of hell and emerged intact.
Davey’s implications were unmistakable. Jimena had made a mistake. A grievous mistake indeed!
The butler sighed, a pang of compassion flickering briefly for Jimena, one he presumed remarkable, though it remained mere sympathy.
He dreaded the prospect of sleepless nights looming ahead.
Contemplating the final traces of scented candles remaining in his quarters, he resolved to preserve it and seek professional advice on its composition, aiming to recreate it.
Davey entered Casey’s room to find her seated on the bed, gazing out the window, lost in contemplation.
Outside, the begonias were in full bloom, their vibrant hues of orange, peach, pink, and white creating a stunning display.
Maintaining such flowers in the basement presented challenges, but Davey was aware of Casey’s affinity for vibrant blossoms. Among his cultivated flowers, begonias boasted the Longest blooming period, flourishing nearly year-round with a peak during the winter months.
However, begonias were delicate. They demanded precise conditions of light and soil moisture. Sustaining them underground required meticulous control of diffused light and ventilation.
Davey had invested considerable effort and enlisted specialists to ensure these flowers thrived. Even during relocations, he took great care to preserve and nurture these plants, ensuring they continued to flourish.
He pondered the devastation of those ruined basements, the delicate begonias within them, such demanding plants, yet so susceptible to ruin. Much like Casey. A fragile and refined woman, vulnerable to devastation with the mere twitch of his hand.
But he harbored no desire for such an outcome. After investing so much in her, he wasn’t prepared to witness it all squandered.
“What are you gazing at?” Davey’s sudden voice shattered the silence.
Startled by his abrupt presence, Casey flinched slightly.
Approaching the window where she stood, Davey turned to observe the begonias outside before softly remarking, “Beautiful.”
Whether he referred to the begonias or Casey herself remained unclear.
Casey offered no response to his comment, maintaining her typically indifferent demeanor in his presence. Her moments of melancholy outweighed those of joy.
“Casey, are you feeling unwell?” Davey inquired, his gaze unwavering.
“The butler mentioned that you requested brown sugar water.”
Casey couldn’t discern his motives for asking, but she understood approaching each of his inquiries with caution. It was all too easy to fall into his snares.
When she wished to evade direct answers, her default tactic of unreasonable irritability served her well.
“The butler isn’t a ‘butler,’ is he?” she retorted sharply.
Amused, Davey arched an eyebrow, genuinely intrigued by her response.
“He might as well be your spy, monitoring my every move. ‘Surveillance’ would suit him better.” Casey shot back with biting sarcasm. “Do you find every detail of my life so fascinating? Of what I eat, drink, even when I go to the bathroom? Next time, I’ll just report directly to you. Why bother with an intermediary?”
Her tone dripped with deliberate petulance, skillfully masking her true emotions beneath a veneer of annoyance.
A shadow passed over Davey’s eyes. Something significant was at play, for Casey to inadvertently reveal her consumption of the brown sugar water. But what could it be?
Davey’s thoughts turned to the newlywed Audrey, realizing that aside from her, nothing else seemed significant enough to have distracted Casey to this extent.
Casey adeptly portrayed a character with a fragmented memory, nearly convincing even him.
Alternatively, he refrained from shattering her illusion as long as it brought her satisfaction. However, his leniency didn’t equate to allowing her an opportunity to flee.
As usual, Davey responded with a smile, “If it distresses you, I’ll instruct him to cease reporting. I merely wished to demonstrate heightened concern for you.”
Casey understood Davey well enough to discern his sharp demeanor and swift shifts to aloofness, particularly during intimate moments, which invariably left her at a disadvantage.
Contemplating their sexual intercourses churned her stomach. A man in his forties, still fiercely entrenched in his ways. Yet, it wasn’t too exhausting to replay and analyze various strategies.
Feigning coyness, Casey remarked, “Don’t make promises you won’t uphold. Don’t feign concern.”
Davey settled beside her, enveloped her in an embrace, and planted a ki*s on her forehead, asserting, “When have I ever failed to honor my word?”
“You promised to take me out to play,” Casey retorted, embodying the role of the naive young girl with startling authenticity.
In truth, her emotional development scarcely surpassed that of a young girl. Having endured half her life under Davey’s confinement, ensnared and often unconscious, she hadn’t been allowed to mature.
Deep down, Casey clung to a trace of innocence, entertaining the belief that she could outwit Davey.
Davey playfully pinched her waist, his tone teasing, “Making such a fuss over such a trivial matter?”
Casey shifted uncomfortably, evading his touch. “Don’t touch me. I’m well aware I have no right to be upset. There’s no need for reminders, Mr. Glyn.” She spoke with a touch of sarcasm evident in her tone.
Despite Casey’s tone, Davey didn’t show any signs of being upset. In fact, he seemed to be in a buoyant mood.
“Tomorrow, he declared suddenly.”
“What?” Casey inquired, perplexed.