Chapter Eight

CHLOE’S POV

I stared at myself in the mirror, wondering how much more pain I could endure before I finally broke.

The doctor had finished treating the burns on my cheek and neck about an hour ago. Thankfully, he said they weren’t severe, but I would need to apply the prescribed cream regularly and avoid irritating the affected areas.

I gently touched the skin near my cheek and winced.

It still hurt. But not nearly as much as the words Michael had thrown at me earlier.

Did she throw it at you, or did you give her a reason to? I laughed bitterly. A reason? What possible reason could justify someone throwing hot tea at another person’s face?

Was there something about me that made people believe they could treat me however they wanted? I wiped the tears from my cheeks. “No more crying, Chloe,” I whispered to my reflection.

But even as I said those words, another tear escaped. I quickly wiped it away. I was tired of crying. Tired of feeling helpless. And most importantly, tired of allowing other people’s cruelty to control my happiness.

I needed some fresh air. After changing into a comfortable floral dress, I slipped on a pair of sandals and stepped out of the bedroom.

The hallway was quiet. I made my way downstairs, hoping I wouldn’t run into Michael’s grandmother. Fortunately, the living room was empty. I walked toward the enormous glass doors at the back of the mansion and stepped outside.

The evening breeze brushed against my face. For the first time that day, I felt like I could breathe. I wandered along one of the paths, admiring the surroundings. Everything was so beautiful.

Yet the mansion itself felt colder than any place I had ever lived. As I walked farther, something caught my attention. Flowers. Lots of them.

I stopped. Ahead of me was a beautiful garden surrounded by a low white fence. Rows of colorful flowers stretched across the neatly arranged beds. There were roses, lavender, lilies, and flowers I couldn’t even recognize.

But what caught my attention most was a section filled with beautiful white gardenias. Their delicate petals glowed beneath the afternoon sunlight. I smiled. “Wow.” I pushed open the small wooden gate and stepped inside.

The sweet fragrance of flowers filled the air. For a moment, I forgot about everything that had happened. Then I noticed an elderly woman bending beside one of the flowerbeds. She was holding a watering can.

“Good afternoon,” I greeted. The woman straightened and turned toward me. Her eyes widened. “Oh! Good afternoon, ma’am.” I smiled. “Please, you don’t have to look so frightened.”

She chuckled softly. “Forgive me, ma’am. I didn’t hear you coming.” “It’s okay.” I glanced at the flowers. “This place is beautiful.” Her face brightened. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Do you take care of all these flowers yourself?” “Most of them.” “That must be a lot of work.” She laughed. “It is, but I’ve grown used to it.” I looked at the watering can in her hand. “Can I help?” Her smile disappeared. “Help?” “Yes.” She shook her head immediately.

“Oh, no, ma’am. I couldn’t possibly allow that.” “Why not?” “You’re the young madam of the house.” I raised an eyebrow. “And?” She looked confused. I laughed softly. “Being married to Michael doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten how to water flowers.” “But ma’am—” “Please?”

She hesitated. I gave her my most convincing smile. “Besides, I need something to keep myself busy.” She studied me for a moment before finally smiling. “Very well, ma’am.” “Great!” She handed me a smaller watering can.

“Just be careful not to pour too much water around the roots.” I nodded eagerly. “Yes, ma’am.” She chuckled. “Please, call me Martha.”

“Martha?” “Yes, ma’am.” I smiled. “That’s a beautiful name.” “Thank you.” I began watering the flowers beside her. For several minutes, we worked quietly. The gentle sound of water hitting the soil was strangely comforting.

Martha showed me how to remove dead leaves and trim away the unwanted growth surrounding the flowerbeds. I carefully followed her instructions. “Like this?” I asked, holding up a dried stem. She smiled.

“How long have you worked here?” Martha straightened. “Oh, a very long time.” “How long?” “Almost thirty years.” My eyes widened.

“Thirty years?” She nodded proudly. “I’m the eldest housekeeper here.” “Wow.” I looked around. “So you must know everything about this family.” Martha smiled faintly. “Not everything, ma’am.” I laughed. “Almost everything, then.” She chuckled.

I turned toward the white gardenias. “These are my favorites.” Martha followed my gaze. “Gardenias?” “Yes. They’re beautiful.” Her expression softened. “They were Madam Evelyn’s favorites too.” I frowned.

“Madam Evelyn?” “Master Michael’s mother.” My hand stopped moving. “Oh.” I looked back at the flowers. “His mother liked gardenias?” Martha nodded.

“Very much. She planted the first ones herself.” I stared at the delicate white petals. “Really?” “Yes. She used to spend hours here.” Martha smiled sadly.

“Sometimes she’d bring little Michael with her. He would complain about getting dirt on his clothes, but he’d still help her.” I couldn’t help smiling. “Michael?” She laughed. “Yes, ma’am.”

I tried imagining the cold, arrogant billionaire kneeling in the dirt beside his mother. The image almost made me laugh. “That doesn’t sound like him.” Martha’s smile slowly disappeared. “He wasn’t always like this.” I looked at her. “What do you mean?” She hesitated.

Then she bent to remove a dead leaf.

“Master Michael used to be a very cheerful boy.”

I remained silent.

“He laughed easily. He was kind to everyone. Sometimes, he’d sneak into the kitchen just to steal freshly baked cookies.” I smiled. “Seriously?” Martha nodded.

“His mother used to call him her little sunshine.” Something tightened in my chest. Little sunshine. It was difficult imagining Michael being called something so sweet. “What happened to her?” I asked quietly.

Martha’s hands stopped moving. For several seconds, she said nothing. Then she sighed. “She died.” I swallowed. “I’m sorry.” She nodded. “It was a terrible time for the family.” “Was Michael young?”  “Very young.”

I looked down at the gardenias. “How did she die?” Martha became quiet. Then she shook her head. “Nobody really knows what happened that day.” I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Her death was surrounded by circumstances nobody in this house fully understood.” A strange feeling settled in my stomach. “Was it an accident?” Martha looked at me. “I wish I could answer that, ma’am.” I swallowed.

“Michael must have been devastated.” Her eyes softened. “He was.” She paused.“And I don’t think he’s ever completely recovered.” I looked toward the mansion. For some reason, my thoughts returned to the cold expression Michael always wore.

The way he seemed determined to keep everyone at a distance. The way he rarely smiled. “Does he ever talk about her?” Martha shook her head. “Never.” “Not even to Grandma?” “Especially not to her.” I frowned.

That was strange. Martha sighed. I remained silent. She continued watering the flowers. “After his mother’s death, Master Michael changed. He became withdrawn. Sometimes, he’d wake up screaming in the middle of the night.” My eyes widened. “Screaming?”

Martha nodded. “Terrible nightmares.” I stared at her. “Does he still have them?” She hesitated. “Sometimes.” My chest tightened. I didn’t know why that information affected me.

Perhaps because I knew what it felt like to lose a mother. To wake up wishing she were still alive. To spend years wondering how different life would have been if she hadn’t died. I looked at the gardenias again.

For the first time, I felt a strange connection to the man I had married. We had both lost our mothers.

But while I had learned to cry whenever the memories became unbearable, Michael seemed to have buried his pain beneath anger.

“Was that why he became so cold?” I asked. Martha sighed. “That was part of it.” I turned toward her. “Part of it?” She nodded. “There was also someone else.” “Someone else?” Martha hesitated.

“A young woman.” My heart gave a strange jump. “A woman?” “Yes.” I tried to sound casual. “His girlfriend?” Martha nodded. “They were childhood friends. They had known each other for years.” I looked down at the watering can. “Oh.” “She was very important to him.”

Something uncomfortable twisted inside my chest. I frowned at myself.

Why do I care?

Michael could have dated a hundred women before me. It was none of my business. Still, I found myself asking, “What happened between them?” Martha sighed. “They were together before Master Michael became wealthy and successful.”

I looked up.

“Really?” “Yes. Back when he was still struggling to build his life.” She paused. “He trusted her more than anyone.” “And?” “She left him.” I blinked. “She left?” Martha nodded. “At a time when he needed someone beside him.” I stared at her.

“Why?” “I don’t know everything that happened between them. But after she left, Master Michael became even more distant.” I swallowed. “So he lost his mother and the woman he loved?” Martha nodded sadly. “He has carried those wounds for years.”

I looked toward the mansion. Suddenly, Michael’s behavior seemed a little less confusing. Not acceptable. But understandable. Martha gently touched my arm. “Young madam?” I turned toward her. “Yes?” “Please don’t misunderstand what I’m about to say.” I nodded. She smiled sadly. “Master Michael can be difficult. Very difficult.” I almost laughed.

That was an understatement.

“But he wasn’t always this way,” she continued. “Deep down, he’s capable of being a very loving man.” I looked away. “He’s never shown that side.” “I know.” Martha sighed. “Just don’t judge his entire heart by the walls he’s built around it.” I remained silent.

She glanced at my injured cheek. “And please, don’t think I’m asking you to tolerate being hurt.” I looked at her. “Then what are you saying?” “I’m saying that understanding someone’s pain and accepting their cruelty are two different things.”

For some reason, those words stayed with me. I nodded slowly. “Thank you, Martha.” She smiled. “You’re welcome, ma’am.”

I turned back toward the flowers. “Now, show me which ones need trimming.” Martha laughed.

“You’re determined to finish my work for me, aren’t you?” I grinned. “Absolutely.” And for the first time that day, I laughed without forcing myself.