Frederick’s words made me chuckle. Back when I used to get jealous, he thought I was being ridiculous. And now that I didn’t care, he suddenly asked why I wasn’t making a fuss.
Without another word, I headed upstairs.
…
That afternoon, I overheard Frederick scolding Karen.
“Whatever happened before, I’m willing to let it go. But if you still can’t figure out who the lady of this house is, you can pack your things. Understand?”
Karen’s voice came quietly from the doorway, “Yes, sir.”
Moments later, Frederick opened the door, the family doctor trailing behind him.
The left side of my face was still slightly swollen, the shape of a handprint clear and red.
Frederick’s expression shifted uneasily. He pressed his lips into a line, then said coldly, “Come here. Let the doctor have a look.”
Even though the wound on my head had already scabbed, it still throbbed.
The doctor went through the motions of examining me. After a while, he smiled smugly and commented, “Ms. Sherman, I’ve seen plenty of cases like this. The wound on your head is self-inflicted, right?
“You’re just trying to make Mr. Burke feel sorry for you. Well, too bad you didn’t do it hard enough. The cut’s superficial and already scabbed.”
As he spoke, he parted my hair to show Frederick.
The doctor continued, “Mr. Burke, she’s fine. The wound would’ve healed on its own. But Ms. Reeves… That’s another story.
“She fell from a second-floor window some time ago and hit her head badly. It wasn’t fully healed, and now someone’s slapped her. She just told me she’s feeling dizzy and nauseous.”
Right on cue, Colette bit her lip and leaned weakly against the doorframe.
