CHAPTER 7: MY SLEEPING DISORDER.

CHAPTER 7

ETHAN’S POV

“Do you have a death wish?” My voice came out rough.

She jolted, as if my words had finally brought her back to reality. Her pupils widened.

“I... I... didn't mean...” She didn't even finish her sentence before I felt a sudden shift in her.

Her fingers trembled against my skin, and her face changed so quickly that I could barely process what I was seeing. The cold, focused look of a trained fighter disappeared, leaving her pale and shaken.

Her eyes filled with tears.

“I... I...” she stammered, the words catching in her throat.

A single tear slipped down her cheek and landed on mine. It felt strangely hot against my skin.

I frowned, staring up at her in confusion. Before I could say anything, her chest began to tremble.

She gagged.

My eyes widened.

“Are you mad?!” I hissed, trying to pull myself away.

A dry hiccup escaped her, followed by a faint, shaky breath. The strength in her grip disappeared, giving me the opening I'd been waiting for.

I twisted my wrists, ready to pin her down and demand answers—but before I could move, her eyes rolled back.

She collapsed.

She fell straight onto my chest, her full weight landing on my fractured ribs.

A sharp burst of pain shot through me. I groaned, biting down on my lip to keep from crying out.

Using what little strength I had left, I slowly pushed her off my chest and rolled her onto the empty side of the mattress.

My eyes moved over her face.

She looked completely exhausted, breathless, and pale, as if all the strength had been drained from her.

I leaned over and held my fingers beneath her nose.

A faint breath brushed against my skin.

I released a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

A small, almost disbelieving laugh escaped my lips as I stared at the woman before me. She was sleeping like an exhausted workhorse that had finally been allowed to rest.

But what baffled me was how easily she had collapsed.

Was she suffering from narcolepsy? Or was it something else?

My eyes moved down to her hands.

Up close, I noticed how pale they were. Her fingers were rough and calloused, the kind of hands that belonged to someone who had spent years doing hard labor.

These didn't look like the hands of a highly paid assassin.

This was the body of someone who had been worked to the bone.

Could my instincts be wrong?

No.

She was connected to that crash. I was certain of it.

Whatever game she was playing, I would find out the truth eventually.

---

NEXT MORNING

ELENA’S POV

Three sharp knocks on the doors jolted me awake.

I jerked, but for some reason, I couldn't move for a few seconds.

The knock came again.

I jolted upright, my heart leaping into my throat.

Then I realized my position.

I was completely wrapped around Ethan.

My leg was thrown over his hip, my arm was draped across his broad, bare chest, and my face was pressed against the warm crook of his neck.

I scrambled backward so quickly that I nearly fell off the mattress.

My breath came in ragged gasps as I pressed my trembling palms against my face.

The first question that registered in my mind was, how did I fall asleep next to him?

“If I remember correctly, I was cleaning him and... and...” My memory trailed off.

Nothing else.

No, no. This can't keep happening.

“Miss Elena?” a sharp female voice called through the doors. “Mrs. Vance has requested that I escort you through the mansion grounds. May I enter?”

My head snapped toward the door, then down to my ripped dress.

“A-A moment, please!” I called, my voice cracking.

I quickly smoothed down my white velvet gown, checking for any wrinkles.

On the floor, Bruno lifted his massive head from his paws, gave a sleepy yawn, and wagged his tail.

He looked completely unbothered.

I turned back toward the bed, my eyes landing on the dropped towel and basin on the floor.

My head began to race with questions.

What really happened?

Then my eyes shifted to the tangled medical wires near the vitals monitor.

Suddenly, pieces of last night came rushing back.

My foot catching on the wire...The terrifying fall...My lips pressing against his.And then...That terrifying grip on my wrist.

That baritone voice.

Those threats.

“HOW DARE YOU?!”

“You breathe a word of this outside this room, and I will ensure you never see the next minute.”

A sharp gasp escaped me.My knees weakened.

My hand flew over my lips as I stared at the billionaire.“Is he awake?” I whispered.

“It can't be possible. He's still motionless, just like last time.”

A jagged laugh escaped my lips.

I slowly crawled back to the bedside and reached out with a trembling finger, touching the tip of his nose.

His breathing was slow and shallow.

I touched my own forehead.It was burning hot.It was a dream, a nightmare... or one of those strange experiences that sometimes came with my sleeping disorder.”

Because if the billionaire had truly woken up and threatened my life, there was no way I would have survived the night—let alone woken up with my limbs tangled around him.

I took a steadying breath, picked up the damp towel from the floor, and tossed it into the silver bowl before walking toward the door.

it turned back. took a stabilizing breath." Elena, focus... nothing happened"

I opened the golden doors.

A young, striking girl stood in the corridor, dressed in a pristine maid's uniform. The moment our eyes met, she gave me a bright, polite smile and bowed.

“Good day, Miss Elena. I am Clara, your personal maid.”

My face flushed.

“Oh, please... you don't have to be that formal with me.”

Clara straightened and nodded obediently.

Something about that simple gesture sent a sharp sting through my chest.

She reminded me of my younger sister, Silver.

She usually nodded like that whenever she wanted something from me.

“Ma'am? Shall we begin?” Clara asked, gesturing down the grand hallway.

I swallowed the lump in my throat that came with that memory and nodded.

The tour started quietly.

She began with the living quarters.

“This quarter...” She pointed toward a mini mansion. “This is the Vances' late heiress's quarter, but it's now inhabited by Miss Selena.”

“Late heiress?” I choked out. “I thought the Vances had only one heir. And who's Selena?”

“She died three years ago...” Clara's smile faltered. “I'm sorry, that's the least information I can give you. I'm not in the right position to tell you who Miss Selena is.”

She gave me a polite smile that clearly meant the conversation was over.

I forced a smile and nodded.

But deep down, I couldn't shake the strange urge to know more.

After a brief walk, we halted in front of a smaller building. Even at its size, it was still much bigger than most houses.

“This particular quarter...” Clara took a breath, glanced around, then leaned closer as if she were about to tell me something deadly.

“Miss Martha, Master Ethan's elite cousin, lives here. She went on a road trip, but I heard she would be back today. In all you do, don't cross her path. She's deadly.”

“Really?” I whispered back.

She nodded.

“I pray you don't cross her path. That's all I can say,” she added with a shrug before resuming her walk.

I rolled my eyes at her last phrase.

Such ambiguous words to say to a curious person.i thought.

We continued walking around.

The sheer size of the Vance mansion was dizzying, and for a while, everything was peaceful.

But the peace didn't last long.

The moment we entered the main working wing, we walked into the laundry courtyard, where a dozen maids were spreading heavy linens.

As soon as I stepped into view, every pair of eyes turned toward me.

They exchanged quiet whispers.

“Look at her. She thinks she's royalty now.”

“Royalty? She's just a womb for rent. I give her two months before the family throws her back into the gutter.”

I almost smiled.

I had survived years of my stepmother's physical and verbal abuse. These petty whispers couldn't hurt me.

Clara cleared her throat loudly, and the maids immediately fell silent, returning to their work.

She leaned closer to my ear.

“This is the gossip hub of the estate. They gossip about everything... especially—”

Before Clara could finish, a sharp, smoky scent reached me.

It smelled like expensive cigarettes.

All eyes turned toward the source of the smell.

A lady with long, blonde hair and a short designer dress walked in through the other entrance. Her eyes were bloodshot, and her face was filled with arrogance, malice, and hate.

The air seemed to shift.

Fear spread through the courtyard.

The other maids immediately lowered their heads.

Clara was a second too late.

The woman marched straight toward us and grabbed a fistful of Clara's hair.

“Are you mad?!” she shrieked, pulling Clara's head down. “Didn't you see me here?!”

Before Clara could cry out, my body moved on instinct.

My submissive facade disappeared.

“Let go of her hair,” I commanded, my voice low and firm. “You're hurting her.”

A sharp gasp escaped several of the maids.

The blonde froze.

She slowly released Clara, shoving her toward the floor before turning her attention fully on me.

Her eyes traveled from my face down to my velvet gown.

Then she laughed.

“Oh, I see,” she sneered, her face twisting with disgust. “You're the stinky little surrogate the hound chose. The garbage from the Stewart family.”

Clara scrambled back to her feet, trembling as she tried to step between us.

“Miss Martha, please! We are sorry for not noticing your presence. Mrs. Vance ordered me to show the candidate around the grounds...”

My lips curved into a dark smile.

So this was Martha.

Ethan's elite cousin.

The woman the maids feared.

I stepped past Clara, straightening my shoulders.

Beneath the heavy velvet of my dress, I shifted my weight into a balanced stance.

“Clara did nothing wrong,” I said calmly, locking eyes with Martha. “She was acting on direct orders from the head of this house. Treating her like an animal is highly unprofessional.”

Martha's face turned red.

“How dare you?!” she screamed, losing what little composure she had left.

She lunged forward, raising her hand to slap me.

But she underestimated me.

The moment her palm came toward my face, I stepped into her guard, caught her wrist, twisted her around, and locked both her hands behind her back.

She let out a sharp cry.

“How dare you... do you know who I am?”

“I don't,” I replied calmly. “The same way you don't know me.”