Chapter 2

Blair put away the photos and looked up to see that it was already 10:00 pm. Gregory would be coming home around this time, so she went downstairs and made a bowl of pasta with butter and herbs. Blair carefully approached Gregory when he just returned home, carrying the bowl despite his cold, disgusted stare. "Greg, I made some pasta. Would you like some?" Gregory loosened his tie and turned away from Blair, his voice immediately softening as he spoke to Beatrice. "You said you were hungry. Try this." Beatrice took the bowl from Blair and tasted a few bites. She grimaced, covered her mouth with a napkin, and spat out the food. With an exaggerated pout, she pushed the bowl away. "It's awful." Gregory shrugged off his jacket. "I'll cook something else for you." Blair's heart clenched, her eyes widening in shock and disbelief. She remembered the first time she had tried to cook pasta. It tasted awful, but Gregory ate every bite of it anyway. Afterward, he insisted she stop cooking and learned to cook himself, making all her meals. He had promised he would only ever cook for her. Back then, Blair felt like the luckiest person alive. Now, he had broken that promise. He was not only cooking for someone else but also allowing that person to humiliate her efforts. He really was in love with Beatrice. Blair realized she meant nothing to him anymore. Why would he care about her feelings? She choked back her hurt, retrieved the bowl, and forced herself to eat every bite through her tears. Gregory watched her with cold indifference, his stare sharp as ice. "We have household staff, so stop trying to cook." With that, he disappeared into the kitchen. … Gregory's bedroom was next to Blair's. She sat frozen on her couch, lights blazing, as intimate sounds drifted through the wall. The soundproofing between the two bedrooms wasn't great, and the noises made her cheeks burn with shame. Her fingernails cut into her palms until they bled, but Blair felt nothing at all. When Blair first came to live with him, she couldn't sleep most nights and was afraid of thunderstorms. Gregory had deliberately kept the soundproofing minimal so that he could easily monitor Blair's condition. If she felt uncomfortable in any way, he would know immediately. Now, this thoughtful detail had become a thorn piercing her heart. Blair didn't sleep all night, lying awake until dawn. For the past two months, she hadn't dared to rest. She needed to save enough money for studying abroad. A professor at school had recommended several architectural design projects, and combined with her two restaurant jobs, it would be just enough. She was working the night shift at the restaurant when someone booked a private dining room. Blair happened to be assigned to that section, so she wheeled her serving cart over. When she saw who was at the table, she froze momentarily, then quickly composed herself and calmly served the food. Beatrice smiled and called out her name. "Blair, you work here? You haven't eaten yet, have you? Come sit and have something with us." Blair poured their wine, ignoring her words, and said expressionlessly, "Please enjoy your meal." "I heard Blair plays the violin. I've never heard her play." Beatrice rested her chin on her hand, her face tilted up in a coquettish pout. "Blair, would you play something for me?" Blair's hands were covered with several band-aids from drawing designs and carving over the past few days. Gregory noticed this too, his brow furrowing as a flash of concern crossed his eyes. Was she out of her mind, letting herself get hurt like this? Or perhaps the money he gave her wasn't enough. With this thought, he instinctively wanted to help treat her wounds. Gregory was about to pull her over when Beatrice spoke up. "Blair, I heard working here is a great way to meet people. You certainly don't lack money from living with the Croft family, so you must be here to make more friends." She smiled sweetly, her expression growing even more gentle. "You could've just told me, really. I could introduce you to people. You don't need to work so hard." As soon as she was done speaking, Gregory's expression darkened instantly. He had forgotten that Blair would use any means necessary to be with him. Now that she saw no opportunity with him, she was setting her sights on other men. Gregory's eyes blazed with anger, his jaw tightening. He couldn't understand how she had developed such a calculating and opportunistic nature after all these years of keeping her by his side. Seeing Blair about to speak, Gregory pulled out several large bills and placed them in front of her. "Begin." Blair's eyelashes fluttered as her heart shattered, her hands frozen in place. She wasn't naive. She caught the meaning behind Beatrice's words, and after years of knowing Gregory, she could tell he believed every word. He actually thought she was that kind of person. Tears threatened to spill. She blinked rapidly, swallowing the hurt that rose in her throat. "What would you two like to hear?" Blair positioned the violin on her shoulder and looked at them expressionlessly. Beatrice smiled playfully. "Just play something you're good at." Blair said nothing more and began in silence. The melodious violin music filled the air as the wounds on her hands reopened, blood seeping through the bandages. Beatrice noticed and gasped. "Oh no, Blair. Stop playing! You're bleeding." She stood to take the violin from Blair's hands, but Gregory's voice cut through the air. "Leave her!" Blair heard their exchange but played on numbly, her bleeding wounds seemingly causing her no pain. Only when she finished did she accept the bills. "Thank you, Greg," Blair said with quiet finality. The memory of that 17-year-old boy slowly dissolved from her mind. The man sitting before her now was simply someone who had once taken her in.