<h4>Chapter 31: Chapter 32 Velvet Glove</h4>


    I blinked at him,pletely thrown off my game for a second, then kicked off my heels and shoved my feet into the slippers. I didn’t even realise my feet were hurting till then.


    The soft fleece wrapped around my toes, warmth creeping up my legs and coiling somewhere stupid in my chest. My heart was punching against my ribs like it was trying to make a jailbreak.


    Ashton tossed a massive nket over myp, covering my flimsy dress.


    He leaned in slightly. ‘If you need anything, shout. I’m just taking a call over there.’


    Then he disappeared towards the stairwell.


    Willow and Clive Granger kept throwing side-eyes my way, their faces flickering between curiosity, doubt, and full-blown suspicion like a glitchy mood carousel.


    I ignored them and watched Ashton through the ss as he leaned against the stairwell wall, lighting a cigarette while he talked on the phone.


    Every few seconds, he’d tilt his head and nce my way. Like he was making sure I was still breathing. Like he was staying put for me.


    By the time the sky outside started to lighten to a miserable grey, the door to the operating theatre finally slid open.


    A surgeon walked out, pulling off his gloves. ‘The patient’s stable. We’re moving her to a regr ward. She might wake up in a few hours, but be careful—no more shocks, no upsetting news.’


    A team of nurses wheeled Louisa past us, still unconscious, still pale as hell.


    I followed, only to get body-blocked by Willow at the door.


    ‘You’re kidding,’ I muttered under my breath, but she was already pretending I did not exist.


    I ended up lurking outside the ward. Not exactly my finest moment, but I wasn’t going to take the doctor’s warning lightly.


    A few minutester, Rhys stormed in with Catherine. Both were still in party clothes and looked like they had sprinted all the way here.


    Rhys caught sight of me and, of course, went straight for the jugr.


    ‘My mum’s unconscious because of you. Happy now, Mira? If you’ve got a problem, you take it out on me. What the hell are you ying at, kicking off at her?’


    I opened my mouth, ready to tell him exactly where he could shove his self-righteous attitude, but he had already bulldozed past me into the room.


    From inside, I heard Willow’s whine: ‘Mum, she’s already sent you to the hospital twice! You sure you want to let her do it again?’


    I heard her muttering something else, too low to hear.


    Then she popped her head out, scowling like it physically hurt her to speak to me. ‘Mum says you cane in.’


    I shoved past her before she could change her mind.


    As soon as I reached the bed, Louisa lifted her hand towards me. She looked weak as hell, pale and small under the nkets, but her grip was fierce when she grabbed mine.


    ‘This isn’t your fault, sweetheart. Don’t you dare me yourself. I just lost my head for a second and my old heart didn’t handle it too well, that’s all.’


    ‘Aunt Louisa...’ I choked out. Next thing I knew, fat, humiliating tears were spilling down my face.


    Louisa turned to re at everyone else crammed into the room.


    ‘And don’t you lot start ming Mirabelle either. If anyone’s to me, it’s Rhys. If he hadn’t been out screwing around, Mira wouldn’t have been put through half this shit.’


    She shot a death re at Catherine, who quickly dove behind Rhys.


    Louisa’s eyes swung back to me. ‘Mirabelle, I know Rhys hurt you, but you’ve loved him since you were little. You told me yourself that marrying him has always been your dream. You are like a daughter to me. I don’t want to see you left with no one to lean on. Especially with... your family situation...’ She let out a heavy sigh. ‘If you break off the engagement, where are you going to find a better future?’


    If it had been literally anyone else running that script, I would’ve shut it down in two seconds t. Told them I didn’t need Rhys to survive. Told them my love life was none of their damn business.


    But Louisa was different.


    She wasn’t scheming. She wasn’t ying me. She meant every word, and that made my throat jam up like rush hour traffic.


    I’d always been the type to bite back when someone pushed. But if someone pulled, spoke soft, held my hand like I was made of ss? I melted into a bloody puddle.


    So when she clutched my hand tighter and begged, ‘Please, for my sake, don’t call off the wedding,’ all I could do was stand there, useless, swallowing everything I wanted to say.


    When Louisa drifted back to sleep, I finally peeled myself away and slipped out.


    I still felt guilty as hell, but not guilty enough to throw myself back into Rhys’s arms like a lobotomised Disney princess.


    I had barely made it five steps when Catherine ambushed me in the stairwell.


    No audience now. No fake smiles. Just full-blown venom in her eyes.


    She sneered, ‘You really are something. Using other people to force Rhys’s hand.’


    I tilted my head, sizing her up. It took me a second to piece it together. She thought I had used Louisa’s health to screw with Rhys.


    My eyes narrowed. ‘You think I made Aunt Louisa sick on purpose?’


    Catherine snorted. ‘Isn’t that exactly what you did? Or maybe you and Aunt Louisa cooked up some soap opera plot to force Rhys into marrying you.’


    I stared at her. ‘You actually believe Aunt Louisa faked a hospital trip just to marry me off to Rhys?’


    Catherine didn’t answer. She just smiled that smug little smile that made me want to smack the lip gloss off her face.


    I sighed. ‘In case you forgot: I’m the one trying to cancel the bloody engagement. I’d be thrilled if Rhys pped a ring on your finger tomorrow. Hell, I’ll even buy the champagne.’