181 Days of Madeline Jesty

Chapter 44: Sweet Revenge

Iola was acting nothing like her usual self. It was as if she was possessed.

One of her hands freed my wrist and went to force her fingers into the space between the two buttons closing the chest part of my blouse, opening it. She then aggressively found her way to my breast and squeezed it as if draining a soaked sponge. I screamed not in fear but in pain.

"Not like this, Iola!" I was pushing her while this was happening, shouting so her servants could hear, but no one seemed to hear my screams.

My peripheral vision caught the brown paper used to wrap the pastry Iola ate. Oddly, the cup of hot double chocolate was by the door. Of course, that seemed strange. Why would anyone put a cup filled with hot liquid by the door? It could spill the moment would someone enter.

Then and there, I knew Iola was controlled by some out-of-the-world element. Using all the strength I could muster, I punched her face using my free hand and then pushed her. The moment I was free from her hold, I kicked the cup, spilling the liquid.

When I turned my head to Iola, she had already fainted.

I buttoned my blouse as I rushed to her side and woke her up. "Iola! Iola!" I repeated countless times, even slightly tapping her cheek, but she wouldn't budge. She only woke up when I slapped her real hard.

"Fuck," Iola cussed as she got up to her senses. "D-did I faint? Oh my god, yes, I fainted, didn't I? I'm sorry, Maddie—"

I realized she had no memory of what happened because of what she said, but to be sure, I still asked, "What happened? How're you feeling?"

"I-I'm sorry. Oh fuck. That was embarrassing," she replied, wiping the sweat on her forehead. "I was trying to keep the headache and the cold shivers to myself because it would be embarrassing if I'd faint in front of you, and then I . . . I guess I blacked out."

Iola was telling the truth. I had no idea how I could say that after what happened, but my gut told me she was not bluffing and really had no idea that she assaulted me. When I heard her cuss the second time, she was looking at the spilled coffee on the floor.

"Oh shit. I'm sorry for all this mess," she apologized the second time. "Wait for me here, 'kay?"

"Are you sure you can move? Maybe you should rest."

"Oddly, I feel better. Just sweaty." Then she ran down the stairs, probably to ask the servants to help her clean the mess.

I clenched my hands into a fist as I stared at the spilled coffee on the floor. What the fuck was that? my brain finally processed. I had no time to be scared. I was just . . . appalled.

Something inside me told me that this was all Cornelia's doing, but I had no proof. The snakelike pupils, the fact that the last thing Iola consumed came from Cornelia's café—it would all make sense. But if I told this to the police, they would surely dismiss me or, worse, call me insane.

But my real question was . . . why?

***

I was able to convince Iola not to go back to Cornelia's Café anymore and hide the real reason behind the words "You may be allergic to one of their ingredients." Iola thought I might be correct, so to be safe, she would avoid the café.

Meanwhile, I was using my savings to pay Troy extra so he could spy on the café, though I was very clear that he should visit at random times. Patterns had to be avoided at all costs. If I was right about Cornelia, then she was more cunning than I expected. If we operate in patterns, it wouldn't take long before she would realize what we were doing, which might worsen things and endanger Amielle.