Chapter 165

Latisha watched Clifford enter, looking travel-worn, and her heart clenched. The face she once longed for now made it hard to breathe.

"Not living long sounds good," she thought. "Then I wouldn't have to suffer every day."

The doctor felt a pang of guilt, unsure if Clifford had overheard him. He stood up awkwardly. "Mr. Lambert."

Clifford strode over, a chill seeming to radiate from him, and sat beside Latisha. "How is she?"

"The fever's broken," the doctor reported. "If it doesn't return tonight, she should be fine."

Clifford nodded. "You can go."

The doctor breathed a sigh of relief and quickly made his exit.

The bedroom fell silent. Latisha stared at Clifford's face, a heavy weight pressing on her chest, a stone of unspoken emotions lodged in her heart.

He looked down at her and reached out to touch her forehead, but she turned her

head away.

Clifford's expression darkened, but he placed his hand on her forehead anyway. His skin was cool, not icy, but like smooth jade.

"Latisha," he said softly.

She stiffened but kept her gaze averted, her lips pressed tightly together.

He cupped her face, gently turning it back toward him. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have treated you like that last night. Please, don't be angry anymore."

Latisha bit her lip and slowly raised her eyes to meet his. For a rare moment, his features were softened with a tenderness that reminded her of the past.

But it was all an illusion. Soon enough, he would become cold again, cruel again. He was just coaxing a pet that had nearly slipped its leash.

His hand slipped under the covers to take hers. "Whatever happened with him these past three days," he murmured, "I won't ask about it again.”

"But what he did to you... I'll make him pay for it, piece by piece. Okay?"

Latisha's gaze flickered, searching his face for any hint of the truth. But his mask was perfect; she could see nothing.

"Don't be angry anymore, please?" he whispered, squeezing her hand as he leaned in, his fingers stroking her cheek.

Every time he showed her this gentle

side, her heart would betray her, sinking helplessly back under his spell. She was so easy to win over, a few soft words were all it took to. have her wagging her tail for him again. He always had her completely under his thumb, because he always managed to create the illusion that he loved her.

Gazing into his seemingly sincere eyes, all the resentment and despair shed bottled up came rushing to t

surface. Her shoulders began to shake with silent sobs.

She raised her hand and signed: *Why didn't you come for me?*

Clifford watched her hands, and his face went still. He said nothing.

She held her hands in the air for a moment longer. There was no need to ask

anything else. His silence was the only answer she needed.

Slowly, she let her hands fall, disappointment clouding her eyes. The stone in her

heart plunged, dragging her down into the abyss.

But then he caught her hand again, sighing softly. "I'm sorry."

How ironic. As if those words could make everything vanish. As if, after hearing them, her continued pain wasjust a sign of being petty and small-minded.

Latisha pulled her hand away and signed: *I'm tired.*

Her gesture silenced him. He looked at her with a complicated expression, then

finally said, “Eat something before you sleep."

She shook her head and pulled the blanket over her head, shutting him out.

But Clifford wasn't asking. He stood up and left the bedroom, returning less than twenty minutes later with a bowl of soup.