Chapter 133
Chapter 133:
“I didn’t do it for thanks,” he said coldly. He was terrified to hope, terrified to let her see the wound still open in his chest. So he reached for the only armor he had left. “I did it because you are my responsibility p>
The word hung in the air.
Responsibility.
He was lying. She could see it in the tension of his jaw, in the way his hands clenched at his sides. He was trying to push her away — trying to make her pull back before she could hurt him again.
Eliza didn’t flinch. “Is that all I am? A responsibility p>
“Until the contract ends,” he said, his eyes hard.
“About the contract —” she began.
Dallas stiffened visibly.
Here it comes, he thought. The divorce. The ‘better’ option.
“I told Anson I’m done,” she said clearly. “I told him the debt to the Hyde family is paid p>
Dallas narrowed his eyes.
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“I don’t owe them anything anymore,” she continued. “I’m not their sister. I’m not their charity case p>
“You told him that?” His voice lost some of its edge.
“Yes.” She took a step closer, entering his space. “I chose to be here p>
Dallas searched her face. He saw the sincerity in her eyes. But the echo of I love you — spoken in that dim hospital room, reaching for Anson’s hand — was still too loud in his head. He couldn’t trust it. Not yet.
He put the wall back up.
“Good,” he said, stepping back. “Then you can focus on your duties as Mrs. Koch.” He turned toward his desk. “Go to bed, Eliza p>
Eliza stood there a moment longer. He was cold. He was distant. He was frightened.
“Goodnight, Dallas,” she said softly.
She walked out.
The moment she was gone, Dallas leaned back against the doorframe. He exhaled — a long, shaking breath — and pressed the heels of his hands against his burning eyes.
She chose to be here.
But does she love me? Or does she simply have nowhere else to go?
In the guest room, Eliza lay staring at the ceiling.
He had built a fortress around his heart. But she knew the way in. She had the map.
He saved me, she thought. Now I have to save him.
“Promise me,” his voice echoed in her memory, haunting the silence of the morning.
“What?” she had breathed in the dark, hours ago.
“No matter how scared you get,” Dallas had said, his eyes locking onto hers, “you run to me. Not away from me p>
But in the harsh light of day, that promise felt heavy.
The silence in the dining room was not peaceful. It pressed down on Eliza’s shoulders like a waterlogged blanket, cold and suffocating. She sat at the long, polished marble table, her plate holding a slice of toast she had shredded into small, uneven pieces but hadn’t touched. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city skyline was gray and overcast — a perfect mirror of the atmosphere inside.
Dallas entered the room.