Chapter 12
713words
The villa falls into an eerie calm.
A full week.
Theodore doesn't go back to the company, nor does he mention the "100 million" repayment plan.
Like an addict who has just successfully detoxed, he greedily seeks every second of sleep.
I'm like an expensive human pillow.
During the day, I sit on the sofa reading, while he naps with his head on my lap.
At night, I lie in bed, and he clings to me like an octopus, falling asleep listening to my breathing.
No arguments.
No humiliation.
Just high-concentration possessiveness.
As if he wants to make up for the six months he had ignored me, with interest.
Friday.
A sudden change occurs.
I catch a cold.
My throat is inflamed, vocal cords congested.
Every syllable feels like it contains grains of sand.
Siren's voice temporarily disappears.
Theodore looks at my swollen throat, his expression dark and unreadable.
But he doesn't get angry.
Instead, unprecedentedly, he personally pours me a glass of warm water.
"You don't need to speak today."
He touches my forehead, his palm dry and burning hot.
"Rest well."
"I need to go to the psychology clinic this afternoon for a routine follow-up."
He glances at the heavy rain outside the window, then looks at my weakened state.
"Wait for me at home."
"Don't go anywhere."
After saying that.
He puts on his coat, takes the car keys, and leaves.
As the sound of the engine fades away.
In the enormous villa, only I remain.
Empty.
Deathly silent.
I put down the warm water in my hand and walk to the floor-to-ceiling window.
The rain is heavy.
It drenches the bodyguards in the garden until they look like sculptures.
I count them.
Four at the front door, four in the backyard, and patrol teams that rotate every fifteen minutes.
Escape?
Impossible.
This villa is now an iron bucket, not even a fly can get out.
If I dare to step out the door, within five minutes, I'd be caught and brought back like catching a little chick.
And then face even harsher house arrest.
I touch my stinging throat.
Theodore is right.
I am his asset.
As long as this voice remains, as long as Siren exists, I will forever be his "medicine."
Whether it's one hundred million or one billion.
As long as he needs the "medicine," I can never leave.
Unless...
The medicine becomes ineffective.
I turn around.
Walk toward the kitchen.
My eyes clear, with a cruel calmness.
Theodore, you think that hundred-million debt can trap me?
No.
The only thing that traps me is this voice.
Without it, I'd be worthless, a real fraud.
Would you sue me?
Perhaps.
Prison?
That works too.
At least in prison, I wouldn't have to endure the humiliation of being treated as private property by a madman like you every night.
I pull open the cabinet.
I take out a bottle of high-concentration chili oil extract.
This was left by the chef for making extremely spicy dishes; just one drop could burn through a person's throat.
I unscrew the cap.
The pungent spicy smell instantly fills the air.
It makes my eyes sting painfully.
I pour a full glass.
The red liquid swirls in the glass, like blood.
Just drink it down.
Siren would die.
Ivy would also be free.
Even if the price of this freedom is permanent disability, is imprisonment.
But I don't care.
I pick up the glass.
My hand is steady.
Without any hesitation, I bring it to my lips.
Click.
The sound of the front door unlocking.
Followed by hurried footsteps.
"Ivy!"
Theodore is back.
A full two hours earlier than expected.
He pushes open the kitchen door, still carrying the dampness of rain on his body, with an excitement on his face that I've never seen before, almost childlike.
"The doctor said my indicators..."
His voice comes to an abrupt halt.
He sees me.
He sees the dark red liquid in my hand that emits a strong, irritating smell.
He also sees the resolute coldness in my eyes.
In that moment.
The excitement on his face shatters piece by piece.
Turning into extreme terror.
"What are you doing..."
He rushes over like a madman.
"PUT IT DOWN!!!"
