Chapter 4

Brian's smug grin surfaced as he shoved a bag of groceries into Charlotte's arms.

"What are you standing there for, mute? Get cooking already. Or should I tell Eric you've been slacking off again?"

Charlotte glanced at the groceries—mostly seafood and meat, with not a single vegetable in sight. She sighed quietly. She was allergic to seafood and disliked meat; clearly, this meal wouldn't be for her. Still, the thought of the remaining twenty-something days reignited a flicker of determination.

Barely half an hour had passed when Emily came rushing into the kitchen.

"Charlotte, why isn't the food ready yet? Don't tell me you don't want to cook for me?"

"She wouldn't dare," Brian barked, his voice laced with impatience. "Charlotte, hurry it up! Emily's hungry!"

With a resigned breath, Charlotte moved to reheat the broth and adjust the portions. But before she could, Emily suddenly snatched the pot of steaming soup from her hands. In a swift, calculated motion, she pretended to stumble, sending the boiling liquid splashing onto Charlotte's back and arms.

"Ah!" A guttural sound of pain tore from Charlotte's throat as she bit down hard, refusing to cry out. The scalding soup soaked through her clothes, leaving her shaking in agony, her body humiliated by the burns.

"Charlotte, are you okay?" Emily's voice trembled with feigned concern, though her crocodile tears betrayed her. She cradled her own hand, where a faint blister had begun to form. "I-I only wanted to help… Oh, this hurts so much!"

Brian arrived on cue. Supporting Emily, he muttered, "Emily, your delicate skin… This could scar! We need the doctor immediately."

Eric burst into the scene shortly after. Without sparing Charlotte so much as a glance, he scooped Emily into his arms and stormed off.

"Charlotte," his cold voice echoed behind him, "you can get yourself to the hospital. The family doctor's needed for Emily."

As the chaos subsided, Charlotte remained behind in the kitchen, her body trembling from pain and her lips curled into a bitter smile. The farce was over, leaving her alone to fend for herself.

She gestured for a servant to fetch her a set of thicker clothes to cover her injuries, but the staff paid her no heed. Instead, they fussed over Emily, offering her various ointments and pain relief remedies.

Left with no other choice, Charlotte gritted her teeth and pulled herself together. She retrieved some clothes on her own, carefully draping them over her blistered skin, and hailed a cab to the hospital.

By the time she arrived, her injuries had worsened. The doctor frowned deeply as she examined the burns. "Your clothes are fused with the skin. This will be painful to treat," the kind-faced doctor said. "You should have come in sooner. Do you live alone?"

Charlotte's throat tightened at the question. She shook her head silently, her fingers quickly typing out a message on her phone: Doctor, I'm mute. Please just write down the instructions for me. Thank you.

The doctor paused, a pang of sympathy flashing across her face. "Alright," she sighed. "Make sure you apply the ointment regularly, and avoid getting the burns wet…"

When Charlotte finally returned to the Lorvis household, the sky had already turned dark. Her body, swathed in bandages, appeared pitiable yet faintly comical. A junior maid, pitying her plight, helped maneuver her wheelchair up the stairs.

"The Madam really has it rough," the maid whispered to another as they passed. "She's covered in injuries, yet Mr. Lorvis is still doting on Miss Emily."

"You're too naive," the other retorted. "That woman has plenty of tricks up her sleeve. She's clung to Mr. Lorvis for years like a stray dog, even as a stand-in for Miss Emily."

"Serves her right, then," another chimed in. "Who told her to take over someone else's place? Everyone laughs at how shameless she is."

The whispers reached Charlotte's ears, but she didn't react. Instead, she typed out a request for the junior maid: Could you come to my room after nine to help with the ointment? I can't reach the burns.

The maid flushed, momentarily stunned, and nodded hurriedly.

When Charlotte entered the house, the dining room scene greeted her like a twisted tableau. Eric and Emily sat close, practically intertwined, feeding each other like starry-eyed lovers.

"Emily, try this," Eric murmured, his gaze dripping with tenderness. Emily giggled, her cheeks pink with joy.

Charlotte's expression remained calm, though a fleeting thought crossed her mind—if they seemed so perfectly suited now, why hadn't Emily married Eric in the first place?

The moment Emily spotted her, she leapt to her feet with exaggerated nervousness. "Charlotte, you're back!"

Charlotte nodded and moved to leave, but Eric's voice stopped her.

"Did you treat your injuries? Do you need me to help with the ointment?" His tone was that of a benevolent master offering charity, which made her chuckle inwardly.

She typed a response on her phone, holding it up with an unbothered smile: No need. Please enjoy your meal. I'll rest now.

Without waiting for his reply, she wheeled herself away, leaving Eric staring after her with a furrowed brow.

She didn't notice the sudden shadow over his expression.

A thought took root in his mind, both ridiculous and undeniable. Was Charlotte angry? Was she… jealous?