Chapter <b>220 </b>


    Or would he denounce both of uspletely, leaving us to rot in a cell?


    The very thought made me sick.


    But with that sickness came a new wave of something far stronger: hope.


    “You won’t find me guilty,” I said, straightening. I refused to show the pain on my face even though it felt like I was being stabbed over and over again directly in my heart. And to think that I had just been considering telling him that I loved him… I shoved that notion down for now, not wanting to dwell on it


    for too long.


    “Perhaps not.” Alexander’s face softened somewhat, and for the briefest second, it almost seemed like he might reach out to touch me. And, Goddess, I wanted him to.


    Any ounce of affection–anything–to prove that, despite all of this, he still cared for me in some capacity


    … I needed that right now.


    But it never came. Alexander’s hand twitched at his side, but then he sped both behind his back and took a step away from me as if physically restraining himself.


    “I’m sorry, E. I don’t want to do this.” He began to turn. “But I need to look into the matter myself before


    I can trust you again.”


    “And you will,” I called after him. “You will trust me. Because I never signed any contract with my father,


    let alone that one.”


    Alexander paused momentarily, his hand lingering on the doorknob. I could see the tension in his shoulders, the hard line of his jaw as his head faintly turned in my direction. Green eyes flicked to the gender reveal cake still sitting untouched on the dining room table, but only for a second.


    “I hope you’re right,” was all he said before stepping out of the room.


    A momentter, two Ashw guards came to escort me to my room. “Don’t touch me,” I snapped, pping their hands away as they reached for my arms. I lifted my chin. “I’ll go willingly.”


    The guards exchanged somewhat guilty looks before stepping aside to let me pass. Leaving the cake on the table, I held my head high and picked up my skirt, making my way upstairs to my room.


    Once I was inside, the guards took my phone away and shut the door. I heard the lock click from the other side. And then I waspletely alone.


    Only then did I allow a single tear to fall.


    Just one.


    I quickly wiped it away, though, refusing to let my sadness linger. No. Alexander would soon realize that


    that contract was bullshit–my father or someone else had likely forged it <i>to </i>frame me–and he would


    return to apologize.


    For the rest of the night, I held onto that hope. Alexander didn’te to see me all night, only sending a servant who wasn’t Lilith to check on me and bring me dinner. I was lonely, but I still refused to let despair take over me.


    Come morning, I had somehow managed to sleep for a few hours.


    I woke to the sound of someone knocking on my door and sat up abruptly, heart leaping. “Come in,” I called out, frantically smoothing down my sleep–mussed hair and tugging on my robe over my


    nightgown.


    The doorknob turned, and the door creaked open. I managed a smile, hoping desperately that it was Alexandering to apologize and admit that I was right.


    But it wasn’t Alexander. It was the same servant who had brought me dinnerst night.


    “Breakfast for you, Luna,” she said, curtsying as she set a tray of tea and toast down on the table. Today’s newspaper was folded up neatly on the tray as well.


    I suppressed a sigh and thanked the maid, dismissing her. Once she was gone, I plopped down into a chair at the table and took a sip of tea, then a bite of toast to quell the anxiety–driven morning sickness that was beginning to wash over me.


    That was when I noticed the headline at the top of the newspaper.


    “BREAKING NEWS: STORMHOLLOW MANSION DESTROYED IN OVERNIGHT FIRE”