Chapter 4
He froze for a second.
Then he laughed.
His laugh was bitterly sarcastic.
"Hate you?" Felix said with a sneer. "You really think you're even worth that?"
I closed my eyes. Fine. Let him hate me then. Whatever!
"Fine," I said, opening my eyes. "I'll stay."
Now it was his turn to be stunned.
"What did you just say?" Felix asked, his voice sharp.
"I said I'll stay," I said, locking eyes with him. "You want revenge? Fine, I'll let you have it. Is that enough for you?"
He frowned at me, like he was trying to figure out if I was just messing with him.
"But I have one condition," I continued. "One month. Just one month. After that, no matter what you think, I'm gone."
"Why one month?" Felix asked.
I didn't answer.
One month was enough for me to get through my last days with some dignity.
Didn't matter where I would die—might as well do it here, with him around.
At least I'd get to see him a little more before I go.
"Fine," Felix said, though there was still doubt in his eyes. "One month it is."
He turned and started up the stairs, but paused at the stairway and glanced back at me.
"The guest room's down at the end of the hall on the first floor. Be ready with breakfast at seven tomorrow morning," he said.
"What's for breakfast?" I asked.
He thought for a moment, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
"Just make what you used to cook for me back then," he said.
My heart twisted.
Sandwich, fried eggs, millet soup. The same things I used to make for him.
Back then, he was so skinny he looked like he might blow away, so I kept coming up with new recipes, just trying to get him back to looking healthy.
"What, you sick of all those gourmet meals out there?" I heard myself ask.
He didn't answer.
He just stood there, staring at me for a long time.
So long, I thought he wasn't going to say anything at all.
Then he said, "Sophie."
"Yeah?" I said, confusing.
"Have you ever regretted it?" he asked.
My heart clenched.
Did I ever regret it?
Regret what? Regret the breakup? Regret not telling him the truth? Or regret — back then, bringing him home?
I opened my mouth to answer, but he was already turning away, heading upstairs.
His footsteps faded down the hall.
I stood there, all alone in the living room, just staring at the empty staircase for what felt like forever.
Finally, clutching my aching stomach, I slowly made my way to the guest room on the first floor.
I pushed the door open. The room was spotless, the sheets and blankets all brand new.
I sat down on the edge of the bed, wanting to cry, but the tears just wouldn't come.
My phone rang.
It was Celine.
"Sophie, where are you? Why aren't you at St. Anne's General Hospital?" Celine asked.
I took a deep breath and tried to keep my voice steady.
"Celine, I got discharged. I found somewhere to stay," I said.
"What? You got discharged? Where are you right now?" Celine blurted out.
"At a friend's place," I replied.
"Who is this friend? I never heard of them!" Celine demanded.
I hesitated.
"Felix," I replied.
Celine went silent for three seconds.
Then Celine screamed, "Sophie, are you out of your mind? Why did you go to him? Do you know what he said about you?"
Of course, I knew exactly what I was doing.
He said it himself—the most humiliating thing he ever did was being with a wealthy woman just for the money. He said it would haunt him for life.
It was broadcast nationwide—everyone heard it.
"Celine," I cut her off, "I'm only staying for a month. After that, I'll..."
I never finished my sentence.
After a month, I might be gone.
There was a long silence on the other end.
Finally, Celine let out a heavy sigh.
"Sophie, you're fucking stupid," she said.
I ended the call.
I lay down and stared up at the ceiling.
My stomach started hurting again, waves of pain rolling through me, like someone was wringing me out from the inside.
I gritted my teeth and curled up tight.
I forced myself not to make a sound.
I couldn't let him hear me.
He was my "boss" now.
And I was just the maid.
Maids aren't allowed to show pain.
The next morning, I got up at six-thirty to make breakfast.
The kitchen was huge, stocked with everything you could imagine.
It took me forever to track down the ingredients, but I finally managed to whip up a sandwich, some fried eggs, and a bowl of millet soup.
At seven sharp, he pushed his plate aside.
"Not good?" I asked.
"No," Felix said, leaning back in his chair and looking at me. "I just want to ask you something."
"What is it?" I asked.
"Two years ago," Felix said, locking eyes with me, "did you have someone else?"
It was the second time he'd asked me that since I moved in, and my heart ached.
"No," I said.
"Then why did you break up with me?" he pressed.
I lowered my gaze.
"I told you already. I just got tired of it," I said.
Felix slammed his hand on the table.
He shot to his feet, his chair crashing to the floor.
"Sophie Marlow," Felix growled, his voice low and angry, "do you really take me for a damn three-year-old?"
I looked up at him.
His eyes were red.