His Perfect Wife Strikes Back

89 Should I Tell Him? Should I Tell Him?

"Does that answer mean anything to you?" I looked into his green eyes. His masculine aura was aggressive in the dark.

"You show up in my room, and then Arthur says you're his fiancee." Frade stares at me. "You better tell the truth."

One of his hands was pressed against my neck, and I could feel the heat and power of his palm. Everything is so familiar, but I must hold down my boiling blood. My heart can't beat for him anymore. The wound that had just been stitched up could not withstand another tear.

"Tell me, how did you get into my room? Were you checking to see if I was dead for your fiance?"

My heart felt like it was being splashed with cold water. He thought I was going to the hospital to make sure he was dead. What a ridiculous question. His words shattered the illusions I had in my heart. But that's just as well. Let him think I'm Daley's eyes. Yes, I went to visit him in the hospital just to hurt him.

I'm sure even if he asked Mark, he wouldn't have got the real answer. Mark was the one who told me to leave him.

'He can't get hurt by you anymore.'

Mark's words echoed in my mind.

Yeah, it's not fair!

"It's what you think," I said, not denying it. "I'm Daley's fiancee, and I want to make sure he's on his way to ruling the family."

What a perfect lie. I don't even get nervous when I lie. I have become more mature, and I learned a lot of skills on that dangerous island. Daley taught me that.

"Daley?" Frade sneered. "You don't even know his real name?"

"He's my fiance," I said to him, and to myself.

"And your ex-husband is Ron Moore." Frade's pressure on my neck intensified as he neared me. A stream of hot air came out of his nose and shot straight into my face.

"How am I supposed to believe you're not a mole?"

A spy? Is that what he thinks?

"That's enough. I don't want to waste my time here with you." I thought I couldn't keep up with him, so I pushed him away with my hands. But his body was like a strong wall blocking my way.

"You're not telling me the truth." He pinched my chin to make me look at him in the eye. I had seen the heat hidden in his eyes, and now there was only indifference in them.

He forgets me so easily. But he remembers Mia.

Even when I was stuck on Puddin' island, I thought I'd run back to him one day. I even fantasized about being with him forever after I finished everything. But all illusions are as fragile as bubbles in the sun.

All the bubbles that looked so beautiful in the sun were broken by his hand.

"I'll say it again. I just want to make sure you're dead," I said, staring into his eyes and speaking clearly. "It's the truth!"

He stared at me for a long time. That pair of cold eyes even showed a brief pity. Only then did I realize that my eyes were wet.

"I won't be fooled by your tears," he said coldly.

"Get away from me." I pushed him away, but this time he didn't stop me. I finally got away from the wall. I felt like I was suffocating. I am so hungry for fresh air. I can't go near him anymore. Wherever his scent is, it makes me sick.

As I ran, I took a deep breath, tears blurring my vision, and darkness lay ahead. I didn't stop until I bumped into another person's arms.

"What happened?" Daley asked.

I looked up and saw his face. He saw tears slide from the corner of my eye. Daley caressed my cheek, his eyes darting behind me as if searching for something.

"You're crying? Why?" He held me in his arms, his tone extremely gentle.

"I just... feel lonely." I hugged him and buried my head in his arms.

My heart is empty and the pain in my wound is coming again. I can't tell him the whole truth, and I can't lie to him completely.

"I'm right here with you," Daley said. "I think you should go to your room and get some rest."

He took me to a new room and I stopped crying. Daley didn't ask me any more questions until I calmed down. He brought me a cup of hot milk. After I drank the milk, I leaned over him and fell fast asleep. It was a dreamless night, and when I woke up it was the next day.

"Good morning, little rose." When I opened my eyes, I saw Daley. He is beside my bed.

"Good Morning." I smiled at him, and the sunlight flooded the room through the window. Everything that happened last night disappeared like a haze of light.

"Do you want to eat breakfast in bed?" Daley, who is wearing a white shirt today, seemed in a good mood.

"No, thank you." I'm not in the habit of eating in bed, which makes the sheets dirty. So I got out of bed, washed up, changed into a yellow dress, and Daley sat at the dining table waiting for me.

"My grandmother's chef only makes Italian breakfast to her taste, but I don't think you can get used to it. So I went to the kitchen and made you breakfast. I hope you like it."

I looked at the food on the table. There was freshly baked thick toast, an omelet, ham and a cream cake. The food was served on delicate plates and looked both classy and appetizing.

"French breakfast?" I asked, surprised.

"Do you like it?" Daley said.

"You made the cake yourself?" I didn't believe he could make a cake. I hadn't seen him make breakfast in pudding, let alone a cake.

"I got the cake in the kitchen," Daley said. "My grandmother has a sweet tooth. She says it takes away all your worries and sadness."

Is he trying to tell me something?

"I think you should take the gauze off," he said, picking up my hand and carefully removing the gauze from my arm.

The back of my injured hand showed traces of stitches. Daley threw the gauze in the trash.

"You don't need it to remind you of your injury," he said, kissing the stitches on the back of my hand. "It just keeps you in pain."

He must have guessed what happened last night. Should I tell him? No, some things should be buried in the dark.

"Please try my breakfast," he said, cutting an omelet onto a plate in front of me.

"It's good." I took a bite and was surprised that he could cook.

"After you finish your breakfast, we need to see someone," Daley said over coffee.

"Who?" I asked.

"Your father," Daley said. "While you were sleeping this morning, I got a call for you from your father. I told him we were getting married, and he thought we should talk."

I know what he wants to talk about. Well, talk to him. But I didn't tell Daley about the flash drive, because it could destroy not only my father, but the entire Moore family, which means Daley will have no trouble getting control of the Logan family. Frade may face deportation.

Should I tell him about this now?