Chapter 3
Knox didn’t show up for the next few days.
It wasn’t until the day she was getting discharged that Mara saw him again. He appeared at her hospital room door with Elena, who was hanging on his arm, looking all rosy–cheeked and healthy.
“Mara, you’re healing up so fast,” Elena cooed sweetly. “Not like me–I’ve been sickly since I was little. I just had a tiny cold and Knox here was freaking out, insisting on dragging me to the hospital for a full checkup.”
Mara kept packing her stuff, didn’t even look up.
Knox kept staring at her, like he was trying to read some kind of emotion on her face.
“Elena’s place is getting renovated,” he said out of nowhere. “She’ll be staying with us for a few days.”
“Okay.” Mara zipped up her suitcase. “Whatever.”
After all, once their month–long divorce cooling–off period was over, they’d have nothing to do with each other anyway.
Seeing how unbothered she looked, Knox’s expression went dark real quick.
Back at the house, Knox seemed hell–bent on being petty, getting all touchy–feely with Elena right in front of Mara. But no matter how hard he tried to get under her skin, Mara couldn’t care less.
At dinner, Knox was hand–feeding Elena shrimp he’d peeled himself. Mara mechanically chewed her food–might as well have been cardboard.
‘Ahh!” Elena suddenly shrieked, clawing at her arms. “It’s so itchy…”
Mara looked up to see angry red welts spreading across Elena’s neck, her breathing getting shallow.
Knox immediately scooped her up: “Get the doctor!”
The private doctor rushed over and diagnosed a peanut allergy.
Knox’s face went thunderous as he called over the staff: “How many times have I told you Elena’s allergic to peanuts? Why the hell was there peanut sauce in dinner?”
The maid kept her head down, eyes sliding toward Mara: “It was… it was the missus who made me put it in…”
Mara shot to her feet, stunned: “When did I ever-”
‘Ma’am, just stop lying,” the maid cut her off, raising her voice. “You said it yourself–you couldn’t stand having Miss Elena in the house, you were jealous of how good the master treats her, so you told us to teach her a lesson…”
20:20
90 Divorces
Chapter 3
“Mara.”
Knox’s voice was ice–cold. He walked toward her step by step, his dress shoes clicking against the marble floor.
“You’ve been so quiet since that day at city hall, I thought you’d finally learned your place.” He looked down at her like she was dirt. “Turns out you were just plotting this instead.”
Mara was about to argue back when she suddenly froze–she caught a glimpse of Knox’s lips curving up slightly. It was gone in a flash, but that little smile was definitely real.
“Since
you made Elena have an allergic reaction,” Knox turned and grabbed a bottle of hard liquor from the bar, “you should get a taste of what that feels like too.”
Mara felt chills run through her. He knew. He’d always known she was allergic to alcohol.
Two bodyguards pinned her shoulders. The liquor burned like fire going down her throat, searing from her mouth all the way to her stomach. She coughed her lungs out, tears streaming uncontrollably, but they still poured half a bottle down her throat anyway.
Soon enough, that familiar itch started creeping under her skin. Red welts popped up on her neck and arms, breathing became a struggle, and everything started going blurry.
Right before the darkness took over, the last thing Mara saw was Knox standing there backlit, that barely–there smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
He was smiling. The bastard was actually smiling.
When she came to, there was just one dim wall lamp lighting the bedroom. Knox sat beside the bed going through some papers, only looking up when he heard her stirring.
“You’re awake?” He closed the file, voice flat. “Don’t pull that shit again.”
Mara struggled to sit up, her throat raw and burning.
Looking at Knox’s obviously mellowed expression, it suddenly hit her–he didn’t give a damn whether Elena had an allergic reaction or not.
What he cared about was how cold she’d been lately.
What he got off on was watching her get jealous and fight over him.
Just like those love letters said, he got his kicks watching her go crazy for him, watching her lose her mind over him.
Too bad–this time, she’s done playing that game anymore.
Fifteen more days. In fifteen days, the divorce is final–no strings attached, nothing left between them.
20:20
