Chapter 288
She Demanded the Truth
Draven.
The scrape of chairs and clatter of cutlery marked the end of breakfast. I stood only after Meredith did,
watching her cross to Azul.
Her voice was low, almost a whisper, but my ears caught it.
“Bring the letter,” she said.
My brows furrowed. A letter?
Azul bowed immediately and slipped from the hall. I opened my mouth to speak, to try and draw Meredith’s
attention before she too could leave. But to my unexpected surprise, she turned on her own accord and
walked toward me.
Then she leaned in close enough for her warm breath to fan my neck and whispered in my ear, “Can we speak
privately? There is something we need to talk about.”
For a heartbeat, I stilled. Meredith rarely took the lead to ask for serious conversations, at least, not directly.
That she would suddenly take the lead now surprised me. And yet, it pleased me because it was a sign she
was making good progress. 1
“Sure,” I uttered without hesitation, my voice quiet and steady. “We should go to my study.” Then I rose to my
feet and gestured toward the doors.
Since she asked with such gravity, I would not risk offending her by suggesting my chambers. No. A serious matter required a serious setting. My bedroom could wait for later, or less–weighty kind of conversation.
I led the way out, my stride even but brisk, and opened the door to my study when we arrived. I stepped
aside, letting her enter first, then I closed the door firmly behind us.
The air seemed heavier already.
Crossing the room, I moved toward the sitting area and gestured toward the two–seater sofa. “Sit.”
She walked there without hesitation, her poise steady, and lowered herself into place with quiet elegance.
<
288 She Demanded the Truth
I drifted to the small bar by the shelves and reached for a bottle–thick, creamy liquid sloshed inside. I held it
up toward her. “Care for a drink?”
Her eyes briefly flickered to it before moving back to my face “No,” she uttered simply.
She thought it had alcohol, and she wasn’t wrong, but she didn’t know the taste was far sweeter than what
she imagined.
“You will like it,” I said evenly.
Meredith said nothing, her silence neither agreement nor refusal, but I chose to take it as consent.
The two glasses clinked gently as I set them down and poured halfway before carrying them to her side.
Refusing to sit apart, I lowered myself beside her on the same sofa, making sure we were close enough that I
could catch the faintest trace of her lavender and vanilla.
Next, I set one glass carefully in her hand before lifting my own. Then I matched her gaze directly.
“I noticed something is bothering you,” I began, my tone steady but softer than usual. “Tell me, has anyone
offended you?”
I sipped from my glass, but I did not take my eyes from her. Her silence stretched until finally, she drew in a
deep breath and exhaled.
When her eyes met mine, I saw it there–pain, restrained but sharp.
“You,” she said, her voice quiet but cutting. “I feel offended by what you did to me.”
Her words struck deeper than I cared to admit. But I leaned forward slightly, searching her face, trying to
anchor her gaze with mine.”
Please, tell me how I wronged you,” I said gently. “Because I truly have no idea what I’ve done wrong to you.”
Her lips parted as if she were about to speak when suddenly, a soft knock landed on the door.
I bit back my frustration. “Enter,” I ordered with a clipped tone.
The door eased open, and Azul stepped inside, her hands folded neatly in front of her. Between her fingers, she carried a single folded paper.
3:4
<
288 She Demanded the Truth
The moment she crossed the threshold, my senses sharpened. Meredith’s fragrance clung strongly to the
letter, unmistakably, as though the paper had rested close to her belongings for hours.
But beneath it, lighter, threading through faintly, was another scent. It was familiar. Bitterly familiar.
My eyes narrowed as one name echoed in my head. Wanda.
Azul approached quietly, lowered her head, and extended the letter to Meredith with practiced grace.
Meredith accepted it without a word, and Azul bowed before slipping back out, the door shutting with a
muted click behind her.
The silence that followed was heavy enough to choke on. My gaze locked on the paper in Meredith’s hands,
then rose to her face. Her expression was calm, but her eyes carried something darker.
Slowly, she drew in a breath and looked at me fully.
“Draven,” she said, her tone steady, deliberate. “I want to know your initial intentions for marrying me. Why
did
you claim me and force me into a marriage with you back then?”
The question landed hard, stealing the air from the room. But I didn’t rush to answer because I couldn’t bring
myself to.
Now, wasn’t the time–the moment I had planned to come clean about this matter with Meredith.
My bond with her was stronger than ever now. I woke with her warmth clinging to me every morning.
I wanted more of that, more time with her laughter, her tenderness and her fire.
I wanted the chance to tell her in my own way, when I could show her how far I had come from that cold,
strategic choice.
Not like this forced situation, festered by Wanda’s venom.
Meredith eyes searched mine, purple and sharp, demanding the truth. But my chest felt tight with the weight
of everything unspoken.
And just then, Rhovan stirred, his voice edged with urgency. “Draven, the longer you wait, the
more she thinks
you never intended to tell her at all. ”
He was right. But that didn’t make it easier.
- 27
<
288 She Demanded the Truth
My fingers tightened around the glass in my hand, though I barely felt it. I thought back to those days the
Elders circled around me with their daughters.
Those moments had made me choose Meredith out of strategy, to use her as a shield. That’s what she had
been to me at the start.
But that was not who she was to me now.
I set my glass down slowly, meeting Meredith’s gaze. Her calmness cut deeper than anger would have.
Comment
Leave the first comment for this chapter.
Vote
10
Fandom
Show support to the author by leaving comments when sending gift.
Swipe Left To Continue >
图
Send Gifts
View All >
289 I Knew She was Hurt