<b>Chapter </b><b>55 </b>


    Lydia


    He moved to the bed and picked up my hands<b>. </b>


    I moved


    my


    hands away this time.


    “Fine.” I wasn’t going to leave.


    He tried to smile but failed. Then he stood, moved to the side, poured water from a jug into an empty ss, and brought it to me<b>. </b>


    “Have some.”


    I looked at him with curious eyes, reluctant to take the water.


    “I didn’t poison it.”


    “I don’t trust you.” His lips pressed together as if he were trying to hold back the disappointment he felt that I doubted him.


    “Fine.” He lifted the ss to his <b>lips </b>and took slow <b>sips</b>. “See, I’m fine.” he handed me the ss, and I didn’t reject it this time.


    I


    I took slow sips at first and thenrge gulps.


    Mason just stares at me. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hands, feeling a bit energized from the water.


    I attempted to ce the ss on the table, but he stopped me and took it from me so I didn’t have to stretch.


    <b>“</b>Do you remember this ce?” he asked.


    I tried not to allow my eyes to wander. Of course, I remember, why won’t!?


    This is <b>a </b>ce that holds many memories of us.


    “It has so many memories of us,” He continued. I rested my head on the pillow and closed my eyes.


    I don’t want to remember those times which I once thought were the good times.


    But I do.


    However, I couldn’t separate the memories from the naive girl. I still have nightmares of that day, the day his stepfather died.


    I closed my eyes, and I could picture everything. The shock in Zoe’s eyes when she pulled the trigger.


    The stter of blood on me.


    And Mason’s face. How they held so much disappointment. How it killed <b>me </b>that he refused to believe me.


    Then, my mind diverted to the time I spent in prison. I can still hear Mason’s voice in the background, but I couldn’tprehend the words he spilled.


    My mind was on a journey of its own


    The picture of him seated across from me in the visitor’s room. His cold gaze, his harsh words.


    He wants <b>me </b>to remember the good times we had in this perithouse<b>, </b>but i can no longer saperate these memor


    The good times went with the bad.


    This fueled my resolve.


    He had used and dumped me. Dating another woman behind my back.


    He cheated on me.


    He shouldn’t be reminding me of these memories.


    “The armchair was your favorite part of this room then,” he said. I opened my eyes at that moment.


    “Did you bring me here to rekindle memories?” My voice is t when I speak. He looked stunned for a bit.


    Typical of Mason, how didn’t I notice this selfish side all along?


    All he cared about was himself. He must love listening to his voice, seeing how he <b>kept </b>on speaking, knowing fully well that I <b>didn’t </b>


    want to listen.


    “No, I was just… I adjusted on the bed, staring right at him with one brow raised and my hands crossed over my chest.


    “You were just what?” He tried to speak but couldn’t form a coherent word.


    “Why didn’t you take me to the hospital? What’s your true n in bringing me here?” I pinned him down with my gaze, shifting the conversation away from the parts of me I was running from


    It was refreshing seeing this. The proud and confident Mason, simmering under my gaze.


    He pressed his lips together. He was now seated on the stool close to me. He sat straight. I figured he <b>was </b>trying to intimidate me


    with his size.


    I didn’t break contact with him, “I had your pills here in the penthouse. I fed it to you, just like you always take it.”


    He had my pills. I looked around; maybe he found them in my bag<b>. </b>


    “Your bag isn’t here.” He said, and I stopped looking around.


    “I’ll have my P.A. bring it to you.” He went ahead and told me how he had taken me out in a hurry, which was the reason he had forgotten the purse.


    I wonder where Marcus had been at that time.


    But wait. My thoughts came to a stop.


    Does this mean he had my pills here?


    Why would he have them? True, we kept à bottle of the pills here in the penthouse, but that was <b>over </b>five years ago.


    Thest one would have expired. This means one thing, he kept renewing them. But why?


    That’s the least of my concerns currently, sot pushed my questions back.


    <b>2/3 </b>


    The <b>cool </b>air from the air conditioning hit my skin, mingling with the breeze from the window at the sides the cum slightly in the wind.


    Tinhaled sharply, trying to gather my thoughts. The air is cold and damp.


    My phone isn’t here, so I can’t send a text to Mom. She must be worried sick right now.


    I thought about borrowing his phone, but then decided against it since I’d want to speak to the twins as well.


    The room was <b>silent</b>. But it didn’tst as Mason’s voice cut right through it, “I’ve been meaning to ask. I raised my head, wondering if <b>this </b>was how the night would go.


    I turned to him; his eyes were lowered, and my dress had gone down. He swallowed.


    He didn’t meet my eyes, and when his eyes rested on my stomach, I had the urge to wrap my hand around my stomach to <b>protect </b>it from his piercing gaze.


    No. He won’t be asking what I thought. There’s no way he’d do that, right?


    “I have been curious,” I shook my head, knowing fully well that he could see me.


    “The baby, your pregnancy, how… where…” he held my gaze briefly, “What about the baby?”


    <b>AD </b>