Yuna’s eyes bulged with incredulity, the redness seeping into her vision as she struggled to comprehend what was unfolding before her. But even more overwhelming than the shock was her raging frustration.
Ever since she heard the news of Barnes‘ success the night before, she had been over the moon. But now, seeing the little brat standing right in front of her, completely unscathed and not even sporting a scratch, Yuna’s heart twisted with loathing.
From the living room came the clatter of someone rushing in. Teresa, breathless with concern, latched onto Hayes‘ arm and began inspecting him anxiously, “Little mute, are you alright? Did you get hurt anywhere?”
Hayes blinked, guilt flickering in his eyes as he glanced at Marguerite.
Did Teresa know something? Why was she immediately asking if he was hurt?
Trying to steady his nerves, Hayes shook his head, “No, I’m fine.”
Teresa finally exhaled a long sigh of relief, her small hands patting her chest.
“That was a false alarm! Little mute, I had this nightmare where a ghoul with a gun shot you, and there was so much blood… It scared the living daylights out of me!”
Marguerite was taken aback. Did Teresa have some sort of sixth sense linked to Hayes? Guns and blood – both keywords fit last night’s events to a T!
And in Hayes‘ mind, the horrifying images from the night before resurfaced, sending shivers down his spine.
Teresa’s expression tightened with worry, her features contorting in fear.
“Hayes, what’s wrong? Are you nervous? You’re sweating.”
Marguerite stepped in quickly, pulling Hayes into a comforting embrace to defuse the situation.
“Hayes was up late last night; he probably didn’t get enough rest. Stop grilling him, it’s time for breakfast.”
Yuna watched as Marguerite protectively drew Hayes close, her eyes flashing fiercely.
She thought, “Hayes was shaking and tense, clearly something had happened last night! But how on earth did he cheat death? And was it Marguerite who saved him? No! That was impossible! How could Marguerite possibly save him from Barnes‘ bullet?”
There was no doubt in Yuna’s mind that Hayes was lying.
After such an incident, how could Frederick possibly stay calm and work overtime at the office, especially all night long?
Yuna was full of doubts, but couldn’t for the life of her figure it out.
She sat at the dining table, her mind heavy with thoughts, barely touching her food. Under the table, her fingers furiously typed a message to Barnes. Damn it! Barnes wasn’t responding! Meanwhile, Hayes, in a frenzy, took a few bites of his food and then grabbed his bowl of oatmeal, then went back upstairs.
Jocelyn, surprised, called out to the little guy, “Hayes, there are rules at the table. You can’t take your food upstairs!”
Hayes paused mid–step, turning to Marguerite with a pleading look.
Daddy’s wound was serious, and he was so weak; he needed to eat!
Marguerite caught on quickly and smoothed things over, “Jocelyn, Hayes didn’t get much sleep last night. Let him eat upstairs just this once.”
With Marguerite’s word, Jocelyn couldn’t refuse and allowed it.
Seeing this, Hayes dashed up the stairs.
Marguerite, still uneasy, found an excuse to return to her room as well.
There, Hayes stood in the center of the bedroom, desperately spinning with the oatmeal in his hands.
Marguerite noticed then that the man who should’ve been in bed was nowhere to be seen.
Where could he have gone?
Just then, the bathroom door slid open from the inside.
Frederick emerged, his face still damp with water droplets. At some point, he had changed into a sleek, ash–grey suit. Apart from a pallor to his complexion, there was no sign of injury.
Marguerite couldn’t help but worry. “Why aren’t you resting in bed?”
Frederick lifted his eyes to meet Marguerite’s, a slight curve forming on his lips.
“Continue resting in your bed? I’d say you’re really looking for trouble.”
With that, he strode past Marguerite, took the bowl from Hayes, and downed the oatmeal in one go. Then, with long strides, he left Marguerite’s bedroom.
Marguerite watched his retreating figure, noting that his spirit seemed much revived, even his tone carried a sharp edge.
Shot and still so fierce – she should’ve thought twice about saving him last night!