7. Begging for Love

"I'm fine, Father. I bumped my nose earlier," I lied.

Fortunately, my father-in-law believed me without much question.

Abraham glanced at the unmade bed behind me. His gaze softened. A faint smile touched his thin lips before he quickly pulled a handkerchief from his suit pocket.

"Use this to wipe your nose. You'll get your hands dirty otherwise," he said, handing me the handkerchief. Dylan's name was embroidered neatly along the edge.

I pressed the cloth against my nose, trying to stop the bleeding.

"Why are you the one making Dylan's bed? That's the servants' job, Anna," Abraham said.

"It's alright, Father. This is my duty as Dylan's wife," I replied calmly.

Abraham let out a long sigh and rubbed his forehead.

"Anna, you don't need to work this hard. Dylan will never appreciate it. Save your energy for something else."

For a moment, I lowered my gaze to the red stain spreading across the handkerchief in my hand.

He wasn't wrong. For three years, I had done everything I could to prove my sincerity as Dylan's wife, yet none of it had ever earned his appreciation.

If anything, things had become worse. He had brought Lea into our marriage. No one dared object to it, not even Abraham.

The metallic taste of blood slowly filled my throat. It felt as though my gums had started bleeding too. I forced myself to swallow and offered Abraham a bitter smile.

"Alright, Father. I'll follow your advice."

The middle-aged man drew in a sharp breath and loosened his tie. He turned to leave, then paused at the doorway and looked back at me.

"I truly admire your perseverance, Anna. But sometimes there are things you simply can't force."

I understood exactly what he meant and responded with a silent nod. Indirectly, Abraham was telling me to give up on this marriage. Perhaps he was tired of watching me struggle after all these years.

"Anna, you deserve happiness too. Just like Dylan." Abraham rubbed his beard uneasily. "I don't mean to weaken your resolve, but if I were in your position, one year would have been enough for me to make a decision."

My chest felt as though it had been struck by a massive boulder. Suddenly, my head spun. Abraham had delivered his final ultimatum. The sound of his footsteps echoed across the floor.

My legs gave out, and before I could stop it, I slid to the ground. The notebook in my hands slipped free. The pages fell open, revealing the long list of wishes that remained unfinished.

Ninety-eight more.

There were still dozens of moments I wanted to create with Dylan.

That should have been enough to give me strength, even when everyone around me seemed determined to make me give up.

I picked up my notebook and gently brushed my fingers across the page.

No.

No one was allowed to shake my determination.

No one.

Abraham's unexpected return shocked everyone in the house.

Jessy and Dylan included. Both of them visibly stiffened when they saw Abraham sitting beside me at the dining table.

I flashed Jessy a smile.

She responded with an irritated hiss. She couldn't do anything to me while her husband was home. Even the servants who normally ignored me completely would treat me differently whenever Abraham was around.

"You came home without telling me?" Jessy said as she hurried over and kissed Abraham affectionately.

Abraham chuckled. "Surprise." He spoke casually. "Your gifts are upstairs. But before that, both of you should sit down. There's something I'd like to discuss."

He placed both hands on the table. The warmth in his expression vanished, replaced by seriousness.

Jessy pulled out a chair across from me while Dylan sat beside me. His hand brushed my shoulder for a brief moment.

I lowered my head, hiding the heat spreading across my cheeks. Even after everything he'd done, my body still reacted to his touch.

How pathetic.

"To be honest, the reason I came back concerns the company," Abraham began. His voice remained calm and controlled. "I'm planning to retire."

My head turned toward Dylan automatically.

Becoming the heir to Danforth Corporation was something Jessy had always wanted for him.

Yet for some reason, Dylan's reaction was the exact opposite. He looked troubled. His eyes remained fixed on the mug sitting in front of him.

"I've always known I needed to be prepared for this position," he said without looking at Abraham.

"I'm glad you're ready."

"Congratulations, Dylan. You're officially the head of our company now," Jessy said enthusiastically.

Then she turned toward Abraham. "Should we throw a celebration?"

"Of course. That's one of the reasons I came home."

Jessy's excited squeal immediately followed.

Without discussing anything further, Abraham and Jessy left the dining table.

Only Dylan and I remained seated side by side.

He let out a long sigh and pushed his hair back.

I knew I should leave. Dylan didn't want me there. But seeing the gloom on his face made me stay.

He glanced at me. "You should get out of my sight. Your presence only makes me more disgusted."

My throat tightened painfully. Something lodged there, making it difficult to breathe. His words were cruel, but I forced myself to stay strong.

Instead of leaving, I remained seated beside him. "Would you like a hot bath? I'll prepare one for you."

Dylan sighed in frustration.

"I said get out of my sight."

"I'll stay here with you. You don't look okay."

That only made him angrier.

His fist slammed against the dining table.

The mug rattled violently, spilling its contents.

I gasped and pressed a hand against my chest.

"Anna, what exactly do you want from me?" Dylan asked in a low voice.

"Isn't this what you've been waiting for? If you're worried about getting a bigger settlement when we divide our assets, I'll give you however much money you want."

My eyes burned. Was that really all he thought of me?

Money?

Without hesitation, I grabbed the collar of his shirt.

Dylan's eyes widened in shock.

"I don't care about your money, you bastard!"

A tear slid down my cheek.

Dylan clicked his tongue.

He pried my hand from his collar.

His chair scraped loudly against the floor as he stood.

My hands fell limply onto my lap.

"Don't I look like a beggar to you?" I asked.

"Essentially, yes."

His answer drove a blade straight through my chest.

"Wasn't this marriage the result of your father begging my family for help?"

I looked up into his cold, furious eyes.

"And now his daughter is begging me for love."

The strength drained from my fingers.

The lump in my throat grew larger, making it even harder to breathe.

"W-what?" I whispered.

For three years, I had known Dylan didn't love me. But something hurt even more than being unloved.

It was being looked down on by the person you loved.