Chapter 5

Hailey furrowed her brow, quickly grabbing a thick pillow from the couch and slipping it under Travis’s injured hand. It lifted his wrist, making it easier to tend to the wound.

The moment her fingers brushed his skin, two sharp gasps filled the room.

All eyes turned toward them.

From the corner of her eye, Hailey saw Travis’s mother, Thalia Blake, watching silently. Her expression was calm, but her sharp gaze missed nothing—the flicker of surprise on Travis’s face, the quiet tension in Hailey’s shoulders, the way both struggled to stay composed.

Even the butler, usually expressionless, paused for a second, quietly observing.

Hailey ignored them all. Her focus stayed on Travis’s hand as she dabbed it gently with alcohol. The sharp sting made his hand twitch, the muscles in his arm tightening for a moment.

She hesitated.

The memory of Travis’s fist slamming into the car window still lingered in her mind. His strength, his temper—she didn’t doubt for a second that if his anger turned on her, she wouldn’t stand a chance.

Stay quiet. Stay careful, she reminded herself.

Biting her lip, Hailey suddenly lowered herself to her knees, carefully steadying his hand in hers.

The room fell silent.

Even Travis looked down at her in surprise.

Whispers rippled among the servants, their eyes widening.

Everyone in the Blake family knew about Travis’s mild mysophobia. Since he was young, he had hated being touched, hated appearing weak. His ex-girlfriend had even complained that he never let her care for him—never accepted help, never allowed affection.

But now, the woman they called the young madam, already stripped of status and respect the moment she stepped into the Blake family, was kneeling before him… tending his wound without hesitation.

And Travis? He didn’t stop her.

Hailey leaned in slightly and blew softly over his hand, trying to ease the sting of the alcohol.

A quiet gasp came from one of the maids. Even Thalia’s cool eyes flickered with surprise.

But Travis only looked at her coldly… then closed his eyes, leaning back, his expression unreadable.

No anger. No rejection. Just… silence.

It puzzled everyone.

Is it because of Calvin? some wondered. Does he pity her? Forgive her?

No one dared to ask.

Hailey, focused on the wound, didn’t notice the stares—or the slight shift in Travis’s gaze.

Her blouse had slipped slightly as she leaned forward, revealing a subtle glimpse of her chest. If Travis tilted his head, even slightly, he’d see inside.

For a brief second, the image from last night flashed in his mind—the warmth of her skin, the softness of her body beneath his.

His jaw tightened. Not now, he thought. Not here.

His eyes drifted away, expression hardening.

Is this woman careless… or calculated? He couldn’t decide.

Oblivious to his thoughts, Hailey finished disinfecting the wound. She examined the gauze and considered her options.

The cuts weren’t deep—barely more than scrapes. Bandages might be unnecessary. But concern lingered. His bones were fine; she’d felt that when he flexed his hand.

Still, bandaging across the knuckles, between the palm and fingers, was tricky.

She sighed quietly, thinking through the best way to wrap it.

 

Hailey took a steady breath, forcing herself to push down the fear still lingering from the memory of Travis’s clenched fist.

“I think… these wounds only need disinfection,” she said softly. “Bandaging them might just slow the healing.”

A ripple of tension filled the room.

The servants stiffened. Some exchanged worried glances, bracing for a possible outburst.

Thalia’s cool eyes drifted to Hailey, studying her with quiet interest. It wasn’t just about Calvin anymore—it was about how this young woman planned to survive in this house.

Travis opened his eyes, gaze sharp as ice. He stared at Hailey, as if weighing the truth behind her words.

Hailey hesitated for a moment, then admitted honestly, “I’m not sure what else to do.”

Her honesty surprised even herself.

In her world, small injuries like this were nothing. A splash of alcohol, a bit of air—it would heal. But in the Blake family? Appearances mattered. Care was precise. Everything had its place.

With one cold glance, Travis dismissed her hesitation, already certain she didn’t care much for him.

But then again, why should he care if anyone truly cared for him?

The butler stepped forward, bowing slightly. “Master, since the young madam is unsure, shall I take over?”

Travis didn’t even look at him. Instead, his eyes stayed fixed on Hailey’s hand, lingering for half a second longer than expected.

“It’s fine,” Travis replied simply. “For small cuts like this, disinfection is enough.”

The room froze for a beat.

No drama. No shouting. Just a calm, matter-of-fact response that caught everyone off guard.

Some of the servants looked almost disappointed—the confrontation they expected fizzled before it began.

Hailey blinked, surprised… but in the end, not shocked. The wounds were minor, after all.

Later that day, as Rowena Harver returned home, her grief twisted into something darker.

The moment she saw Hailey, rage overtook her. Her eyes wild, she stormed across the room.

“You… you bring misfortune!” Rowena shrieked, her voice cracking under the weight of loss. “The moment you entered this family… Calvin—he…”

Rowena’s hand shot out, slapping Hailey across the face with a sharp crack.

Pain bloomed across Hailey’s cheek as she stumbled back, holding her face. Her heart pounded—not from the slap, but from the realization.

There are truly so many unreasonable people in this family.

Despite the sting, Hailey’s voice stayed calm, though her eyes darkened. “Even if I bring bad luck,” she said evenly, “your family forced me to marry Calvin to change his fate. I never begged for this.”

A stunned silence followed.

The servants froze. Even Rowena’s mouth hung open for a second.

How could this girl speak to her mother-in-law like that?

Thalia’s expression remained unreadable, giving nothing away.

But Mary Hewitt, the sharp-tongued third lady of the Blake family, couldn’t hide her amusement. She let out a short, breathy laugh, covering her mouth with her hand.

The sound only fueled Rowena’s rage.

“You little—!” Rowena lunged, her hand ready to strike again.

Hailey’s body tensed. She wasn’t foolish enough to fight back—not here, not now. No one in the room would take her side.

She turned swiftly, head down, trying to escape.

But before she could take three steps, she collided with something solid.

A strong arm shot out, steadying her.

Hailey’s hands instinctively clutched the front of a crisp shirt.

She looked up—and froze.

Travis.

Rowena, fueled by grief and anger, caught up in seconds. Her hand tangled in Hailey’s hair, yanking hard, ready to slap her again.

A sharp cry of pain escaped Hailey’s lips as her head jerked back.

But the next thing she felt was Travis’s hand closing firmly around Rowena’s wrist, halting her mid-swing.

“Enough,” Travis said coolly, his voice low but cutting through the room like a blade.

Rowena’s eyes widened in shock. Her grip slackened, releasing Hailey’s hair.

Silence fell, thick and heavy.

Hailey quickly stepped away, smoothing her tangled hair, her heart racing.

The entire room watched, breath held, waiting to see what would happen next.