Jessica noted the unwavering resolve in Lady Matilda’s eyes and exhaled heavily. It was clear—there would be no changing of her mind. This time, she was trapped. Doomed. With no route for escape.
She rubbed her brow, frustration settling in her chest like heavy stones. Her mind spiraled back to the dinner table—those cold glares, the covert glances, the unspoken battles.
She felt herself descending deeper into a cellar of politics and power struggles, and there was no torch to light the way.
Silently, she walked toward Lady Matilda, crouched beside her, and gently took her wrist to check her pulse. She ran a quick series of observations—breathing, skin tone, response time. Each of them carefully done.
With a quiet sigh, she said, "You’re stable, but I’ll prescribe something for you. Donald should get it in the morning. It will help you recuperate and ... you should also reduce stress...when I say stress, it means practically anything that triggers one. You really shouldn’t be pushing yourself this hard." She instructed with her professional tone.
Her last sentence came out softer, barely more than a whisper. The weight of everything was starting to sink in.
Lady Matilda’s brows furrowed slightly as she watched her. Though she had claimed Jessica as her granddaughter, she had yet to truly know her and to understand her plight in the time past.
She had hoped to bring her back gradually, to learn her story over shared time. But looking at Jessica now—so composed, so controlled—Matilda couldn’t stop the questions silently churning in her heart.
She patted the armrest of the chair beside her. "Will you sit, Jessy? Let’s talk a little before you leave."
Her voice was soft, loving and totally disarming even. For a moment, Jessica nearly sat down. But instead, she shook her head.
"I can’t," she said, her voice gentle. "It’s late. I need to go home."
Matilda’s eyes narrowed slightly. "Do you have an appointment? I would’ve preferred if you spent the night. My driver could take you back after breakfast."
Jessica’s smile was faint, but firm. "Not tonight. I... I can’t sleep here. Not yet." And not when Davis is still waiting for me, she thought silently. Not when my heart is still split between two worlds.
Lady Matilda didn’t press further. She sensed her granddaughter’s hesitation ran deeper than fatigue.
Still, she nodded in understanding, grateful at least that Jessica had come back, that she had agreed, however reluctantly to help, to help her uncle and the Santiagos’ family. But a deeper worry lingered: the fear of losing her again. Like she lost Nora.
"When will you visit again?" she asked softly.
Jessica smiled a little. "Soon. I’ll come by more often—especially now that I need to understand the Santiago affairs."
"That’s good. But don’t burden yourself. Donald will prepare a comprehensive report for you," Matilda said with a nod. "I only hope you both understand each other. I don’t want to see this family fall apart."
Jessica gave a solemn nod. She picked up the welcome gift Matilda had given her earlier and turned toward the door. Her hand was on the knob when Matilda’s voice called out, sharp and sudden.
"Jessy... are you married?"
Jessica froze.
Her fingers clenched slightly on the brass handle. Her breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t expected that question—at least, not today. She’d imagined it as a distant conversation, meant for a quieter time. A softer moment.
Behind her, Lady Matilda watched her back stiffen and frowned. Yet despite the concern, a faint smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.
Slowly, Jessica turned around, her expression warm and unguarded.
"Yes," she answered gently. "I’m married."
A flicker of surprise crossed Matilda’s face, quickly replaced by curiosity and a motherly edge of concern.


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