NovelEnglishAt the Fitch's mansion.
Zoey peered through the narrow window, considering what to do next. She could leave if she wanted to, but something within her
resisted the idea of running away.
It was darkening outside. Fitch hadn't been hfor two days, and Zoey sensed something had gone wrong.
Her phone had been confiscated, cutting her off from the world.
She just sat by the window, resting her chin on her arms and breathing in the fresh air.
Then her stomach growled, as she had barely eaten the day she arrived and had thus struggled with an upset stomach.
Now, after enduring two days without food, she felt her insides were rebelling, and she had a futile retching that brought up
nothing.
Thankfully, the housekeeper wasn't completely cruel - she had given her a pitcher of water each day.
Those two pitchers had sustained her, though the dizzying hunger and the stabbing pain of her ailment were almost unbearable.
As she lay by the bed, sweat beaded her forehead, and her shoulders rose and fell gently.
After having endured so much, she thought she was beyond feeling downtrodden. Yet, her eyes grew hot with unshed tears.
A car engine rumbled outside. She couldn't see it from her vantage point, but the sound was unmistakable.
Taking a deep breath, she resettled herself on the bed's edge.
As Fitch entered and handled his coat to a servant, someone asked, "Mr. Haskins, when can we serve Zoey sfood?"
With Fitch absent for the past two days, the staff had been hesitant to make any decisions.
Fitch paused, suddenly remembering Zoey's presence.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtHe didn't want to deal with her family; the mere thought of that brought him a physical repulsion.
"Where is she?"
A servant led him to a closed door.
Upon entering, he immediately saw her sitting on the bed.
The door clicked shut and Zoey's gaze met his.
A plate of fiery red chili peppers sat on the table.
Loosening his tie, he sneered, "What's the matter, not to your taste?"
Hungered and with her stomach in knots, Zoey saw double before her.
"How's Mia?" she asked.
The mention of Mia sent Fitch striding forward in fury, his fingers clamping on Zoey's chin.
"Zoey, are you sure you had no part in this?"
Her defiance was clear as she met his gaze, and she read the situation from his expression.
"No."
The pain on her chin briefly cleared her head; she felt his disdain to her as if she were svirus.
Though his hand was on her chin, it felt as though her very throat was gripped; his grip was suffocating her.
Fitch released her, and he kept eyes on her form before he moved to the window.
He lighted a cigarette, and his presence felt heavy.
"Eat," he commanded.
It was a deliberate challenge.
Zoey looked at the plate of chili peppers, and with a surge of defiance, she got up, approached the table, and without hesitation,
started shoveling the peppers into her mouth.
Tears streamed down her face as she choked on the spice.
After two days without food, her stomach couldn't handle the assault.
Her mouth burned as she stuffed in a few bites, then she clutched her mouth, rushing towards the bathroom.
"Ugh."
What she expelled wasn't just the peppers but a mixture of peppers and blood.
Fitch continued smoking by the window, unheeding of the sounds of retching from the bathroom.
After finishing half the cigarette, he turned to leave.
Glancing at the table, he noted that only half the peppers remained.
Dismissing the sight, he opened the door to leave, but a thud from the bathroom stopped him.
He frowned, closing the door to a crack.
"Zoey?"
Calling out, he hurried back to the bathroom.
Zoey lay on the floor; with her forehead bleeding from a collision, she remained unconscious and eerily still.
Fitch felt his pupils contract sharply.
He scooped her into his arms, "Zoey?!"
The door burst open with a kick, and he carried her back to the sofa in the main hall, "Get a doctor, now!"
His grip on her shoulders was so fierce that seemed to almost shatter her delicate form In his arms, Zoey was in bad condition: her
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏmmouth was swollen red from the spice, her eyes were red-rimmed, and her breaths fainted against him.
For a moment, Fitch hesitated, afraid to move.
It felt as if she were a dry leaf, ready to crumble at the slightest touch.
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