I Vowed to Protect Your Daughter

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Extra long chapter because it's the last chapter of the year!! 

What are your new year's resolutions? 

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Zelda's POV

After class, I rush home, praying that Malice didn't burn down the house or murder my staff. I'm in such a hurry to get inside that I park like a maniac, barely leaving room for Father's car in a garage that should be big enough to fit three trucks.

I storm inside and up the stairs. The house is quiet. Too quiet.

Scared of finding Malice's dead body, I burst into the guestroom. Panting, wheezing, sweating, I take a deep breath.

"Took you long enough," Malice complains, lying on the bed with the bin close by. She looks fine, apart from the pale skin and dark shadows under her eyes. But at least she's alive and everything seems to be in the ordinary.

"Did everything go okay today? No trouble?" I ask, pretending I didn't just speed the entire way home to check on her.

"I'm starving, other than that everything's fine," she says.

"You haven't eaten?"

"How would I? You told me not to leave the room under any circumstances. What am I supposed to eat? Pillow cases and goose feathers?"

"So you didn't leave the room at all today?"

"If I had, I would've snuck into the kitchen to get something to eat."

"I'll get you something right away," I say. "What do you want?"

"I don't know," she shrugs. "Anything really. But no nuts. And no bacon. I hate bacon."

"How about meatloaf?" I ask and she almost throws up from the mere mention of such a hearty meal. "No meatloaf. Noted. Lasagna? Pasta?"

"I need something bland."

"Chips?"

"Something more than chips!"

"Rice?"

"That's too dry..."

I roll my eyes in exhaustion. "Just come with me and choose something from the fridge," I say.

"What about your staff?"

"The maid is cleaning the pool house this time of day and it usually keeps her occupied for about an hour. Cado is guarding the gate outside, and the chef usually arrives around 6 pm, which gives us at least half an hour to visit the kitchen for some snacks. Do you think that's enough time for your picky stomach to pick something out?"

Malice gets up in laden steps. She follows me down to the kitchen, unseen by anyone. I open the fridge for her but nothing seems appealing to her. On a mission to find food, she starts looking through all the cabinets and pantries.

"Stop moving everything around," I tell her after she picks up her fifth item only to put it back down. "I'm sure the chef has a system, and I don't want him to cause suspicion by asking my father why everything is at a new spot."

Malice raises her hands in surrender, her eyes full of sarcasm. Then she continues to look through the cabinets.

"Have the symptoms gotten any better?" I ask her, nibbling on a strawberry while she keeps searching for a suitable snack.

"Yeah. Still want to sell my left kidney for a cig, but I guess the fever isn't as bad anymore. Haven't puked today either."

"That's good," I say. "I'm proud of you."

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