Chapter 12

Nicholas's gaze slowly drifted from the food to Samantha's face. His eyes, usually lifeless, suddenly flickered. Then, out of nowhere, he let out a gut-wrenching shriek and lunged forward, throwing his arms tightly around Caitlin. "Ah... ah..." he screamed wildly like he was breaking apart. The sudden move totally knocked Alexander off guard. He moved too late to stop anything—what if he hurt her? Damn it. Why the hell was he so worried about Caitlin at a time like this? Just after the shouting fit, Nicholas suddenly bit down—hard—on Samantha's shoulder. "Nick! Don't!" Alexander growled, yanking Samantha's arm, desperate to pull her out of his brother's grip. "Don't move!" Samantha snapped lowly, shifting her arm under Nicholas's and wrapping him in a tight embrace. Her voice was soft and calm, smooth like silk, as she tried to soothe him down. "It's okay now... You're alright... I'm here, no matter what happened. Don't be scared, okay?" Nicholas's dried-out eyes quickly glazed with tears. The bite on her shoulder loosened. "It's all over. Let the past go, alright?" Her voice was like a gentle lullaby, slipping into everyone's ears like a quiet spell. "I won't leave you... Just hold on to that." Nicholas twitched, and suddenly tears burst out of him like a dam broke. Samantha kept whispering by his ear, her voice hypnotic—"You're not alone, okay? Mom's with you... your brother's here... I'm here..." Her voice was ridiculously beautiful—soft like a feather brushing your cheek. The simple words, spoken so casually, struck right at everyone's core. Even Alexander wasn't immune. He never thought a woman's voice could sound that good, like it was melting into his heart and taking over. "Ah..." Nicholas let out a final cry. His arms clutched Samantha even tighter, like he wanted to cram her right into his body. Jealousy flitted across Alexander's eyes for a split second. Dammit, this woman... she'd messed with his head more than once today. And now what? He was... jealous? Nicholas held on tightly until he finally passed out, but even then, he refused to let go of Samantha's hand. His mouth moved as though trying to speak, but the years of isolation had broken his ability to talk. All he could let out was one long, agonized sound, eyes filled with helpless pain locked on hers."Don't say anything now. I know everything. Just go to sleep. I'll stay right here with you." Samantha gently held Nicholas's bony hand with both of hers, soft and boneless like velvet. A light smile curved her lips, softening her already perfect features with an almost angelic warmth. Alexander stood nearby, eyes fixed on her serene profile. In that moment, the urge to pull her into his arms just like his brother had done hit him like a wave. Damn it. They had just made that ridiculous agreement before coming to this house. Without her consent, he wasn't even allowed to touch her—not even her hand. His lips curled up into a cold sneer. He was the CEO of the mighty Perkins Group, and he needed her permission to touch his own wife? What a joke. That dumb agreement—there's no way she'd actually stop him from getting close. And then, reality slapped him square in the face. Nicholas had finally fallen into a deep sleep. Samantha, who had been kneeling by the bed for too long, tried to stand but staggered slightly as pins and needles hit her legs. She gripped the edge of the bed for support. Alexander reached out instinctively to help her, but she sidestepped him like it was nothing. "Mr. Perkins, don't tell me you're trying to weasel out of the terms already," she said, her voice flat, a flicker of mockery in her gaze. His hand froze in mid-air, and suddenly the whole room felt awkward. Even the house staff who had quietly gathered to peek in seemed to catch on—something felt off between Alexander and his wife. They looked picture-perfect, sure, but the vibe? Definitely not harmonious. Mrs. Perkins had a cocky edge to her, and she didn't even bother sparing Alexander a sliver of respect in front of everyone. Rumor had it Alexander wasn't into women. Judging by how Mrs. Perkins treated him, maybe that gossip wasn't so far off. I mean, if he wasn't avoiding intimacy, why would a woman turn her nose up at such a rich and handsome husband? Proves it yet again—good men are usually taken... by other men. People in the room started throwing each other knowing looks, eyebrows raised. Alexander's eyes turned darker. "Nurse," he said coolly, "can you tend to her shoulder?" Like hell he cared—he wouldn't have even looked at her if his brother hadn't bitten her like that. A deep bite mark, still bleeding, marred her smooth white skin. It made him feel strangely uncomfortable. He hadn't even touched that shoulder himself. By the time she got back to the villa, it was already 3 a.m. Samantha looked exhausted. She hadn't eaten much at dinner, and her stomach had been growling for hours now. The second she walked in, she headed straight for the kitchen. She remembered spotting a box of frozen fish fillets and a bag of fries in the freezer earlier—nothing fancy, but perfect for a late-night snack before bed. Samantha threw the fish and chips into the air fryer, then drizzled a generous amount of malt vinegar over them as soon as they came out—hot, crispy, and golden. The sharp, tangy smell of vinegar immediately filled the kitchen air, mingling with the savory scent of fried batter. Holding the plate as she stepped out, she was startled to see Mr. Carson standing at the doorway, looking at her like she'd just committed a crime. Biting into a chip with zero shame, Samantha shot him a glance and said flatly, "Something wrong?" "Ma'am..." Mr. Carson looked uneasy and hesitant, clearly struggling with what to say. This wasn't the same Madame Caitlin he used to know—the one people could ignore or walk all over. Even Mr. Alexander couldn't win when he clashed with her, and here he was just a butler. One mistake, and he could be packing his bags. "Spit it out." Samantha strolled to the dining table, plopped down, and started digging into her food. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but do you... remember? Sir has a strong aversion to overly fragrant foods... and the vinegar you're using has a particularly sharp scent.." "And what's that got to do with me? I'm eating it, not him." She didn't even look up, just kept eating, vinegar-soaked fries disappearing one by one. Mr. Carson broke into a cold sweat. He barely got the words out, "It's just that... Sir really can't stand the smell. He says it lingers for hours. Especially in the curtains." "Control freak," Samantha muttered, waving him off like he was a pop-up ad. "He's sleeping, right? He won't know. That stupid rule is on pause for now." So what if he didn't like the smell? That didn't mean the rest of the house had to suffer. How ridiculous was that? Mr. Carson's lips twitched. Great. Both of them were nightmares to deal with. He really couldn't afford to upset either one. Watching her shamelessly munch on her forbidden fish and chips, he awkwardly stood off to the side, silently begging her to please hurry up and head upstairs so he could open every window and spray the place down before Alexander came down. "Hey, Mr. Carson!" Alexander's voice came unexpectedly, casual but chilly. Mr. Carson froze, heart dropping. He looked up to see Alexander leaning lazily against the upstairs railing, in his silk robe, eyes fixed directly on him. "S-Sir! I—I'll open the windows right away…" Mr. Carson stammered, wiping sweat from his brow like he'd just been caught in the act. Alexander waved a hand impatiently. "I'm hungry. Make me a plate too." "Yes, sir!" Mr. Carson responded by habit, but then his eyes widened like someone had smacked him in the face. "Wait, you mean… fish and chips?" "What else would I mean?" Alexander replied in his usual deadpan tone, but there was a distinct chill in his eyes that made Mr. Carson want to disappear. "Of course! Right away!" Mr. Carson nodded quickly, expression darkening like a storm cloud. Really, sir? Could you not? I literally just reminded ma'am that you hate the smell! And now you're asking me to make it like it's no big deal? Dealing with one moody boss was already exhausting. Now add a vinegar-loving wife into the mix? This job was going to be the end of him.