Chapter 3

"What game are you playing now?" Adrian asked, swinging the door open. He stood silhouetted in the doorway, the hall light glaring behind him.

My hunger strike these past few days had finally forced him to come. As I pushed myself up weakly, a sharp pain twisted in my stomach, and I broke out in a cold sweat.

"Let me out. I don't want to stay here."

Adrian said with a frown, "I've already warned you not to cause trouble on my wedding day. Your hunger strike is pointless."

A self-deprecating smile tugged at my lips. "You think too highly of me, Adrian. I value my life far more than you ever do."

He seemed taken aback by my response, then paused for a second before snorting dismissively.

"After I marry Emily, I might even grant you the status of a mistress. Stay put and don't cause any trouble. But you're not allowed to appear in front of Emily or say anything that might upset her."

Was he actually trying to humiliate me with an offer like that? What had I been thinking, falling for a scumbag like him?

Every word out of his mouth now turned my stomach. I couldn't even remember the boy who used to sneak me candy or stand up for me when I was bullied. The man before me now was as disgusting as a sewer rat.

I didn't have the strength to argue now. All I wanted was to leave and not waste my time bickering with Adrian.

"I don't want any 'title' from you. But if you insist on keeping me here, at least provide me with proper food. Stop trying to disgust me with spoiled leftovers."

Adrian's frown deepened.

"That's impossible. Emily herself gave specific instructions to the maids about your meals. She specifically told me she was concerned you wouldn't eat properly, so she prepared three dishes and a soup for every one of your meals."

What a shameless liar.

I took a deep breath and gestured at the food container on the floor.

"Tell your man to open it, and see for yourself," I said weakly, with a touch of sarcasm. "Take a good look at your so-called 'three dishes and a soup' you keep talking about."

Adrian's eyes were full of impatience and disgust.

"What are you playing at? Do you think this will get my attention? Claire, is this the best you can do—resorting to such petty tricks?"

But he still walked over and signaled to one of the bodyguards with a glance.

The bodyguard immediately stepped forward and opened the food container with obvious disgust. An immediate, overpowering stench of rot filled the room.

Even Adrian seemed taken aback by the sight. For a brief moment, uncertainty flickered in his eyes.

Just then, a clear, sweet voice rang out from the hallway. "Adrian, I personally made Claire's favorite dishes."

Emily stepped into the room, carrying a brand-new thermal lunchbox.

"I heard she hasn't been eating, and it breaks my heart," Emily said.

As she spoke, she opened the container, releasing the inviting aroma of freshly prepared food.

The moment he saw what she had brought, all doubt vanished from Adrian's face. His expression hardened once more into pure contempt for me.

"Trying to frame Emily again? Look at the food she brought for you, then look at this disgusting mess you created. What else can you possibly say?"

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she choked out, "I knew Claire would complain about the food. But if she's left it out for days, of course, it would spoil."

"Don't cry. Forget about Claire. Let her starve for all I care."

Adrian spoke softly to comfort Emily, but he glared daggers at me.

A cold numbness settled deep within me. He refused to believe a word I said, even with the evidence right before him. I couldn't just sit here and wait for death. I needed to find a way out.

"I want to see Mrs. Quirrel," I said, my voice weak but firm.

Adrian asked with a sneer, "What now? Are you planning to tattle on us again?"