Chapter 6

When Zoey came to, she found herself lying on the bed in the villa. From outside the room came exaggerated laughter and blaring, cartoonish voices. The volume was so high, it felt like the walls were shaking. Zoey forced herself up and opened the door, only to see Wendy sitting cross-legged on the living room carpet, hugging some snacks and guffawing at the television. "Oh, you're awake, Zoey!" Wendy looked over with a smile. "My bad. Was the cartoon too loud?" She deliberately crunched on a chip before continuing, "I've been feeling a little tight in the chest lately. The air in this villa is so much better, so Yves said I could stay here a few days to recover… You don't mind, do you?" Instinctively, Zoey glanced at the couch, where Yves sat with his long fingers flipping through a financial report. Behind his gold-rimmed glasses, his expression was calm and focused. The television was so loud, yet he didn't even bat an eye. All of a sudden, Zoey remembered something she had written in her diary. "He lost his temper again today because I was eating an apple next to him. He said the chewing noise distracted him, and he told me to leave. I need to remember that the next time he's in the study, I have to be pin-drop silent!" Meanwhile, Wendy was making as much noise as she wanted, crinkling chip bags and blasting over-the-top sound effects from the television. Yet, he didn't even look up. It was so obvious—who was loved and who wasn't. Zoey was about to respond when Yves abruptly said, "If it wasn't for that accident years ago, this home would have been yours." His voice was cold, and his eyes still remained on the papers. "She's just someone who's taken something that isn't hers. You don't need her permission for anything." "He's right, you don't have to ask for my permission," Zoey calmly chimed in. "Feel free to stay for as long as you want." Yves' fingers froze over a page. Then, he finally looked up at her with a flicker of surprise. This wasn't like her. Usually, she'd be crying, lashing out, or blinking back tears. She would never be this calm. However, the thought lasted only a second in Yves' mind. He averted his gaze and continued leafing through the report. After all, he never cared much about anything related to Zoey. Zoey didn't care about what he thought anymore either. She went back to her bedroom and closed the door behind her. After that, she spent the entire day in her room, listening to the harsh noises outside. Wendy blasted variety shows at full volume, stomped around in heels on the hardwood floor, and even opened one of Yves' prized red wines to go with her fried chicken. Every single thing she did was something Yves would get upset about. Zoey remembered how she once accidentally touched his bookshelf and earned a cold stare. If she made any noise while walking in slippers, he'd frown and stop her. Forget about touching his red wine… that was unthinkable. Yet, now, she clearly heard Yves exasperatedly say, "Slow down. No one's going to steal your food." Zoey finally stepped out during dinnertime. The table was already set, and Wendy sat beside Yves with a smile. "Yves, these are all my favorite dishes!" "Yeah." He fondly looked at her. "I'd never forget the things you like." Wendy blushed and noticed Zoey standing at the bedroom door. She immediately called out, "Come eat with us, Zoey!" Zoey quietly walked to the other side of the table and took a seat. At that moment, Wendy looked like the lady of the house, whereas she felt like a guest who had wandered in by mistake. Zoey picked up some food and tried a bite. After two mouthfuls, her throat started to itch. She frowned slightly and tried some other dishes, but the discomfort only got worse. "Zoey, are you okay?" Wendy suddenly exclaimed. "Why do you have red spots on your hand? Are you having an allergic reaction?" Zoey looked down and noticed her arms were already breaking out in a rash. Her breathing grew shallow, and she tried to speak, but she couldn't make a sound. She pointed weakly to her purse, where her emergency medication was. Wendy jumped up to help, but in her rush, she knocked over a steaming bowl of soup. The boiling hot liquid spilled straight onto Zoey's rash-covered arm, and the sharp pain made her tears spill over in an instant. Yves rushed over, but instead of helping her, he pulled Wendy into his arms. "Did it burn you?" he asked, nervously checking her hand. "How could you be so careless?" Zoey's vision began to blur. Before she lost consciousness, the last thing she saw was Yves carrying Wendy away. …. When she came to, she was lying in a hospital bed, and a nurse was changing her IV. "Your allergy was severe. You almost died. You also have second-degree burns. "It's been two days. Why hasn't anyone from your family come to check on you?" Zoey parted her lips to answer, but then voices drifted in from the hallway. "Did you hear? Mr. Pearce booked the entire floor!" "I did, and it's all because of the burn on Ms. Wendy's hand." "He's so good to her! To be honest, if he took any longer, the wound would've healed already…" Zoey gently closed her eyes. "I don't have any family." The nurse hesitated, as if she wanted to say something, but she stopped herself and quietly left.