By the time Ethan and Davis returned to the estate, dusk had already deepened, the mansion glowing faintly against the darkening sky.
Deborah hurried to welcome them back, her hands quickly setting the dining table. But Davis brushed past her gesture, his voice flat.
"I’m not eating."
She watched his tall frame retreat toward the staircase, a knot of worry tightening in her chest. At last, she couldn’t endure it anymore.
"Davis," she called softly.
His footsteps faltered mid-stair. For a heartbeat, he stood motionless, shoulders tense, before slowly turning his head, as he waited for her to come over.
Ever since she moved into the estate, Deborah had always called him Sir, keeping that careful boundary of respect.
But now hearing his name leave her lips, Davis felt something stir deep inside. For an instant, he thought he heard his late mother’s voice.
The ache of loss welled up inside him, his emotion spun. He wanted to tell her how much he was hurting, but the words remained trapped in his throat. He couldn’t and he will never..
"Davis," she said again, her voice trembling.
She was not expecting him to answer, but to her shock, his lips parted, and a single word slipped out, "Ma’am."
Deborah’s heart lurched. Her world spun at the sound, tears stinging her eyes.
"They told me you haven’t been eating well," she whispered. "Seeing you after just a few days... I can tell it’s true."
Since Jessica’s accident, Deborah had spent most of her time at the hospital, tending to Jessica and the twins. She only came home briefly for essentials. waiting for Jessica and the twins.
But just this afternoon, Ethan got worried about Davis’ eating habits.
He was afraid he might be down with gastro problems, and it would be more challenging.
With no option left, he sought the help of Deborah. Thinking back now, Deborah felt she had been wrong to have overlooked the one who might be hurting more.
"I eat," Davis clipped curtly.
But when Deborah reached for his wrist and gently guided him back toward the dining hall, he didn’t resist.
For her sake, he forced himself to take a few bites before retreating upstairs. She watched him disappear, she sighed helplessly.
In the study, Davis immersed himself in work until Ethan entered.
"Get some of the teams ready in two hours," Davis instructed without looking up. "We’re getting someone tonight."
Ethan frowned. "Who?"
Davis leaned back, his eyes cold. "The Night Merchant."
The words sent a chill through the room. "What?" Ethan almost shrieked, a cold shiver ran down his spine.
"Will tonight be good for this?" he asked. He was not just scared about taking this trip, but he’s scared about what the outcome might be.
"This night is best," Davis said firmly. "The earlier we end this, the safer it will be."
Ethan understood exactly what Davis meant. Over the years, they had investigated Desmond, and Sylas but there’s a man who had always been a variable.
During the investigation into Jessica’s attack at the estate, it had been his men, but then he was invited by Desmond.
Now there’s no doubt he might be aware of Sylas’ state, and having worked closely with Sylas, leaving him at large might spell doom for them.
Looking at his character trait, he usually instigated another to do his bidding, exploiting their greed and desires.
Desmond was a part of his puppet. Desmond paid him handsomely, diverting several of Allen funds in the hope he would help him ascend the seat after careful elimination of Davis.
To put it simply, he orchestrated the attack against Davis and Jessica when they left the Allen mansion.
Comments
The readers' comments on the novel: Forced Marriage: My Wife, My Redemption