Chapter 48: Tell me- where did you sneak off to today
Anna glanced down at their hands, then back at the man holding hers. The warmth of his grip was unexpected, unsettling in a way she couldn’t quite place.
"I... uh—" she began, but her phone buzzed violently in her pocket, cutting her off.
Ethan’s fingers loosened immediately, his hand falling back as Anna fumbled for her phone. One glance at the screen, and her breath caught.
Daniel.
Her stomach flipped. ’Why the hell is he calling me now?’
She froze, fidgeting, her mind racing. If he was home and had noticed her absence, she was done for.
"What’s wrong?" Ethan’s voice pulled her back. His eyes never left her, steady and unblinking, as if he were trying to read every twitch of her expression. "Why aren’t you answering?"
Anna’s lips parted. She wanted to speak, to explain—but no words came. She couldn’t let Ethan know who it was. And she couldn’t let Daniel know where she was.
"Ethan, I—" she tried again, but the phone kept ringing in her hand, each vibration rattling her nerves further.
"I think you should answer," Ethan said, his brows furrowing at her hesitation.
Before Anna could react, another voice broke the tension.
"Sir, the production team is waiting for you at the studio," the driver reminded from a short distance.
Ethan blinked, as if only now remembering his schedule. His gaze flicked once more to Anna, but before he could say anything, a burst of commotion from the road pulled his attention away.
"Hm," he muttered absently.
That was all Anna needed. "You should go," she blurted quickly. "I’ll get home on my own."
Ethan turned sharply toward her, confusion flashing across his face, but Anna was already stepping back. Then—without waiting—she spun on her heel and ran.
Ethan: "..."
Driver: "..."
Anna didn’t dare look back. She sprinted as though chased by shadows, her heart hammering. Only when she had put enough distance between herself and Ethan did she finally slow, her hand trembling as she pulled out her phone again.
Her screen glowed with a string of missed calls. All from Daniel.
"Damn devil," she hissed, staring at the name. Her thumb hovered over the screen, torn. ’Should I call him back... or pretend I never saw it?’
Meanwhile, in his office, Daniel sneered as he stared at the phone screen.
"She’s ignoring me again," he muttered, his voice low with scorn. The repeated rejection made his grip tighten around the device, his jaw clenching until the muscles ached.
Ever since he had uncovered Anna’s intentions, work had become a distant blur. He shouldn’t have felt secure, knowing he held the upper hand, knowing Anna’s moves would never outmatch his. Yet... something restless gnawed at him, something that clawed deep in his chest whenever her words replayed in his mind.
For Daniel, Anna had always been a disposable Chapter—an ignorant pawn he would discard once her family was ruined. That was the plan. Simple. Ruthless.
So why... why did her defiance linger? Why did her threats echo louder than they should? Why couldn’t he simply brush her aside and continue as if she had never spoken?
The thought infuriated him.
Unable to stand her negligence any longer, Daniel’s thumb hovered over her contact, ready to call again—but then he stopped. A different resolve gripped him.
Pushing back his chair, he rose abruptly.
"Boss, the afternoon meeting—" Henry’s voice trailed off as Daniel strode past him without pause.
"Postpone it an hour," Daniel ordered curtly, not sparing his assistant a glance. His tone left no room for argument.
Henry stood rooted, dumbstruck, watching his boss vanish down the corridor like a storm barely contained.
Meanwhile, Daniel’s thoughts burned. She must have slipped out on purpose. That’s why she’s ignoring me.
His jaw tightened as his car sped through the mansion gates, every inch of him seething with restrained fury.
"How dare you ignore my calls, Anna Clafford," he muttered under his breath, the sneer curling at his lips as his hand clenched into a fist.
He had been patient. More lenient with her than with anyone else. But her defiance was pushing him to the edge—and Daniel was not a man accustomed to being ignored.
Not by her. Not by anyone.
Just as Daniel stormed into the mansion, ready to make her regret ignoring his calls, the bedroom door swung open—and his steps faltered.
The sight before him stole the anger straight from his chest.
"Ah..." Anna groaned, curled beneath the duvet, covered from head to toe as if even breathing was an effort.
"Madam, you must rest," Mariam urged softly, standing at her bedside like a loyal guardian.
Daniel froze. "W-What happened?" he demanded, his voice rougher than intended. Without another thought, he strode forward, his eyes darting between Anna’s pale face and Mariam’s pinched expression.
Before Mariam could answer, another low groan slipped from Anna.
Daniel blinked, unsettled, unsure of what he was witnessing—until Anna muttered weakly, "Don’t you see I’m not feeling well?"
Mariam’s gaze flickered nervously between master and mistress. Her lips pressed into a tight line before she bowed her head and slipped quietly from the room, leaving them alone.
Daniel remained rooted to the spot, his mind spinning. The woman who had defied him so boldly was now lying in bed, suddenly fragile, suddenly ill.
Then her voice lashed out, sharp despite her feigned weakness.
"And you, Daniel Clafford—relentlessly calling me, disturbing my sleep!"
Her eyes snapped open, landing squarely on him.
Daniel stared back, his expression unreadable, caught somewhere between suspicion and something he couldn’t quite name.
’God, why isn’t he saying anything?’ Anna thought, panic simmering beneath her act. ’Don’t tell me he’s not convinced...’
Truth was, she never would have tried this stunt—except she’d seen his car pulling through the gates the moment she’d returned.
Cornered, with no other option, Anna had chosen the only shield she could think of. She pretended to be ill.
Anna’s heart pounded wildly as his eyes lingered on her. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, until Daniel finally spoke.
"So... you’re not feeling well?" His voice was deceptively calm, almost casual, but it made her stomach knot.
Anna’s brows furrowed. "Are you blind? Don’t you see it already?" she snapped, her irritation masking the dread bubbling beneath her words.
For a moment, his expression didn’t change. Then, slowly, a dangerous curve tugged at his lips.
"Is that so?"
Before she could react, his hand gripped the duvet and flung it back in one swift motion.
Anna froze.
Her lie shattered in an instant. There she was, sprawled across the bed with her shoes still on, the very picture of someone who had collapsed in haste—not a sick woman seeking rest.
Daniel’s gaze hardened as it swept over her. "Tell me, Anna," he said, his voice edged with steel. "What kind of unwell person goes to bed with their shoes on?"
Her lips parted, but no words came. Her heart raced faster, the sting of being caught leaving her flushed and speechless.
Daniel folded his arms across his chest, his gaze fixed on her with unrelenting intensity.
"So," he said slowly, each word deliberate, "tell me—where did you sneak off to today?"
His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried the weight of authority, the kind that demanded answers.
Anna swallowed hard. He had seen it all—her defiance, her disobedience, and now her clumsy lies. And she knew, deep down, he wouldn’t hesitate to call her out.
She looked up at him, towering over her like an immovable wall, and realized she couldn’t keep up the act any longer.
"Fine!" she snapped, throwing the duvet aside as she sat up abruptly. "I did leave the house—for a while. I went to meet my mother."
Her tone was sharp, decisive. She was done playing hide-and-seek with him. He clearly already knew, so what was the point in pretending?
She braced herself for his scolding, for his wrath. She expected him to argue, to lecture, to remind her again of the cage she lived in.
But instead, his eyes dropped to her side—and his next words caught her off guard.
"What happened to your hand?"
For a moment, Anna froze, her breath hitching as she instinctively curled her fingers into her palm, as if to hide the scrape.