Chapter 10

Delia shifted her head slightly, but her whole body felt limp, like all strength had drained out of her. She blinked hard and forced her eyes open. What she saw was a dusty, cobweb-covered room shrouded in dim light. Wasn't she just tucked under the covers? Where the hell was she now? For a moment, her mind went blank, but then the fog started to clear. She tried to move, instinctively-but realized she was tied up tight with scratchy rope, unable to budge. Pain spread through her body, sharp and familiar. She glanced down. Under the faint light, she saw old burn scars winding across her bare skin-scars from that fire. But... hadn't she been reborn? Wasn't she just peacefully asleep in Curtis's arms? How was she suddenly back in her past life again? Panic, icy and overwhelming, slammed into her like a wave. "You're up?" A soft, girlish voice floated over. Delia's head whipped up. The moment she saw the person standing before her, all warmth drained from her face. Isabelle. She looked completely out of place here-face flawless, makeup perfect, standing straight and smug in this filthy attic. She wore that mocking smile, eyes glinting with disdain, a dagger Delia recognized instantly resting casually in her hand. Just like before-except now, the roles had flipped. Nathan was here too, looking as polished and fake as ever. His eyes practically screamed sarcasm, not even trying to hide it. "This can't be real," Delia whispered, her throat raw and dry. "It's just a nightmare... Curtis, where are you!" She screamed, desperately clutching onto that last sliver of hope-that maybe, just maybe, the man who'd once held her silently in his arms would show up like some miracle. But the only response was Isabelle's cold, cruel laughter. "Haha, still dreaming your silly little fairy tale?" "That useless cripple? You threw him away with your own hands!" "You really think anyone's coming to save you now? Who even cares about you?" Each word hit her like a poisoned needle, straight to the heart. Yeah... it was her. She'd hurled cruel words at Curtis, pushed him away again and again, burning every bridge until there was no turning back. "Delia," Nathan's voice cut in-still soft, still gentle. But every word out of his mouth dug into her like glass. "Honestly, you're still this naive? Still this dumb?" "You actually thought I loved you?" He knelt so they were eye to eye, his expression full of fake pity and a twisted sort of amusement. "Thanks to you, things went smoother than we ever imagined. All that Fleming family money, and the stuff from Curtis? We couldn't have done it without you. You're basically the MVP here." "You'll all rot in hell!" Delia broke down in tears, fighting against the ropes, only to feel them biting deeper into her skin. "'Rot in hell'?" Isabelle sneered. She dragged the dagger slowly across Delia's cheek. "Look at you now. Who'd want someone like this?" Before Delia could react, the blade slashed down hard. "AH!!" Blood burst out instantly, trailing down her face. "Can't handle a little scratch?" Isabelle leaned in, looking thrilled to see her in agony. "Don't worry, this is just the warm-up. This face of yours-it wasn't much to start with, but it still pisses me off." "No... don't..." Delia shook her head in terror. But Isabelle didn't even flinch. "Ruining it is perfect. That way, there's no coming back for you. You'll rot away here-just like you deserve." The dagger sliced across her skin again and again, leaving raw, bloody marks behind. "Alright, Isabelle, that's enough," Nathan said in mock concern. But in his hand was a syringe. And he didn't hesitate in plunging it straight into Delia's arm. Agonizing pain surged like wildfire through her veins. "CURTIS!!" she screamed. She let out one final scream of pure despair as her vision went blurry. The twisted, satisfied faces of those two faded away behind mocking laughter... The sharp sting of antiseptic took the place of blood. Delia lay on the hospital bed, wrapped head to toe in bandages, looking more like a mummy than a person. She tried to move-but even lifting a finger felt impossible. A woman in a nurse uniform and mask walked in. "Time to change your dressing." Without another word, the nurse yanked at the gauze on Delia's body with zero hesitation. Every pull sent pain shooting through her like an electric shock. Her eyes welled with tears instantly. "Don't cry. Suck it up. Changing dressings always hurts," the nurse said flatly, her hands moving just as rough. "You're in bad shape, huh? Well, guess that's what happens when you piss off the wrong people." "Curtis... please... help me..." Delia sobbed quietly. The nurse snorted. "Waiting for Mr. Stockton to save you? Get real. He dumped you ages ago." "You'd better just stay here and wait to rot." No. Curtis would never abandon her. This was her fault-she was blind to what real love looked like. "Curtis!" Delia sat up abruptly, gasping. Her nightclothes were drenched in cold sweat, hair clinging messily to her forehead. She panted, heart pounding, her eyes wide with terror. But the air around her was cool, steadying, like someone had opened a window after a storm. Her nerves, stretched to the point of snapping, slowly began to relax. It was just a nightmare. Still, everything she saw felt hauntingly real. She turned her head and saw the man beside her sitting up, clearly startled by her sudden movement. Curtis had already woken the moment she bolted upright. He hadn't even said anything yet when he noticed her tear-streaked face. Without thinking, he reached for her. "Delia, what's wrong?" Delia stared at him like she needed that moment to believe he was really there, then threw herself into his arms, her grip tight. "Babe! Ugh..." Her voice cracked as she buried her face in his chest. Curtis stiffened for a second, caught off guard by her sudden breakdown. Then he wrapped his arms around her protectively. "Bad dream?" he asked gently, his voice softer than usual. He awkwardly patted her back, trying to ease her fear. "It's okay. I'm here now. You're safe. Don't cry." Delia clung to his shirt like her life depended on it, like letting go meant he'd vanish. "You... you're not gonna leave me, right?" Curtis held her tighter. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere." Delia nestled deeper into his hug. "Okay... just don't leave me..." Her voice faded, her breathing steadying as her exhaustion pulled her back under. Tears still clinging to her lashes, she drifted back to sleep in his arms. Curtis looked down at her, his brows furrowed, emotions swirling behind his eyes. What kind of memory could've shaken her so badly? They say nightmares come from real stress, and seeing her like this... Curtis felt a pang of guilt. Maybe he hadn't been paying enough attention. Lately, she had been acting kind of off. Realizing it only now made him kick himself a bit. With one arm still around her, he reached for his phone on the nightstand. He quickly dialed a number. The call was picked up after barely one ring-Noah's voice came through. "Mr. Stockton?" "Look into the people Delia's been seeing lately." "Uh... yes, sir. On it." Noah sounded surprised but didn't ask further questions. Curtis hung up and placed the phone back. Whatever secrets she was hiding, he needed to find out the truth.