Chapter 36: Not in this lifetime
After her encounter with Kira, Anna immersed herself in practicing the dialogue Wilsmith had emailed for tomorrow’s mock test.
She was hesitant, but the spark of eagerness in her chest wouldn’t let her stop. When she read the script, the words themselves didn’t feel hard to deliver. No, it wasn’t the lines—it was the emotion behind them that tangled her heart.
"If only you knew how much I have loved you. Will you be able to know my heart?"
The dialogue rang in her ears like a confession she had once lived.
Anna’s lashes fluttered, and memories crept in like uninvited guests. How desperate she had been back then to win Daniel’s heart. How she had bent, broken, and lost herself while clinging to the foolish hope that one day he would finally look at her—not as a burden, not as a replacement, but as his.
But that day never came.
How could it, when his heart had always belonged to her sister? She had hoped till the very end, until there was nothing left of her to hope with.
Her chest tightened. Anna squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head sharply as if to rid herself of the ache.
"Ha... why am I getting overwhelmed? They’re just dialogues," she whispered, forcing a smile, though her voice wavered.
No. She couldn’t let her past weigh her down now.
Straightening her back, Anna inhaled deeply and looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her own eyes stared back at her, damp with ghosts of the past, yet fierce with the determination of the present.
It wasn’t often that opportunities landed at her feet. And now that this one had, she would cling to it with both hands.
"I’ll make sure Mr. Wilsmith is impressed by my craft," she said firmly, as if etching the vow into stone.
Her tone grew steadier as she repeated the lines, conviction slowly replacing hesitation. And for the first time, she saw not a girl desperate for approval—but a woman daring to create her own future.
Knock. Knock.
Anna blinked, her focus snapping back to reality.
"Madam, your dinner," Mariam’s gentle voice called from the other side of the door.
Anna’s brows knit, and she glanced at the clock. It was already late. She hadn’t even realized how much time had slipped away.
And then—
Grr~
Her stomach growled loudly in protest, making her chuckle despite herself.
"Perfect timing, stomach," she muttered under her breath, setting the script aside with a sigh.
Anna could skip everything in life, but food wasn’t one of them.
The moment Mariam wheeled in the tray, Anna’s eyes lit up—until she noticed something odd.
Her brows furrowed as she leaned closer, staring at the overflowing dishes stacked neatly on the cart. "Mariam, I know I eat a lot, but serving enough food for two people is a little too much, don’t you think?" she teased, her tone light as she propped her chin on her palm.
Mariam pressed her lips together, her hands moving a little too carefully as she began setting the plates on the table. Her silence was unusual. Then, finally, she turned, her eyes darting nervously toward the door behind Anna.
Before Anna could question her, a deep voice cut through the quiet.
"It’s not just for you."
Anna stiffened, her spoon halfway to her mouth. Slowly, almost unwillingly, she turned her head toward the doorway—
And there he was.
Daniel Clafford, framed by the doorway like a scene out of a drama. His hair was damp, the faint sheen of water still clinging to his neck, his white shirt clinging to his form as if he had just stepped out of the shower.
Anna’s jaw dropped.
’Why does he look like that when he’s about to ruin my dinner?’ she thought, forcing her eyes back to the tray of food as if glaring at it could make him disappear.
"We," Daniel’s voice was calm but heavy, "are going to have dinner together."
Anna’s grip tightened on her spoon. Out of everything she could have prepared herself for tonight, this was not on the list.
Daniel’s lips curved ever so slightly at her wide-eyed, innocent look. Without a word, he flicked his hand at Mariam, dismissing her.
The old nanny hesitated for a moment—her eyes darting between the two of them—but eventually bowed and quietly left, shutting the door behind her.
The silence that followed felt heavier than the steaming dishes on the table.
Only then did Daniel turn fully toward Anna, his dark gaze steady on her.
"I heard you hadn’t eaten yet," his voice was low, deliberate, "so I asked Mariam to bring my dinner here as well."
"...In your room."
Anna froze, her spoon clinking against the bowl as her mind scrambled.
’Did he just say my room? As in, he’s eating here? With me? Seriously!’
Her thoughts spiraled instantly.
’Why is he suddenly acting... normal? No, no, don’t overthink, Anna. This is Daniel Clafford. Nothing about him is normal. Maybe he poisoned the food. Maybe he wants to interrogate me. Or maybe...’
Her gaze flickered to him nervously as he took the seat right beside her, his presence suffocating in its calmness.
Anna leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper as though she’d just solved a grave mystery.
"Did you... hit your head this morning?"
Daniel’s composure cracked. His brow twitched, his jaw stiffened. How could she possibly bring that up? The fall—his one humiliating slip—still left a dull ache at the back of his head, and now here she was rubbing salt into the wound.
"Ahem—no," he muttered curtly, looking away, but not before catching her heavy sigh from the corner of his eye.
"There’s no way a man in his right state of mind would dare walk back into the very room he was thrown out of," she said flatly, crossing her arms like she’d just diagnosed a patient.
Daniel: "..."
Her expression turned grave, and she nodded as if confirming her theory.
"I think you should see a doctor."
Daniel turned to her slowly, his eyes narrowing in disbelief. A muscle ticked in his jaw. He, Daniel Clafford, feared by rivals and revered in boardrooms, was being spoken to like a lunatic patient by his own wife.
"You—" he started, ready to scold her, but the words died in his throat. Because the worst part? She wasn’t mocking him. She genuinely believed it.
Anna, meanwhile, squinted at him, suspicion dancing in her eyes. First he barged into her room drunk last night, then tonight he wanted to eat dinner with her.
’Something is definitely off,’ she thought grimly. And then—like lightning—another memory struck her.
Her eyes widened, her lips parting as realization smacked her across the face.
’The slap.’
Anna gaped at Daniel, staring at his face as though she was seeing the mark of her handprint glowing there.
Anna’s mind spun in circles, one wild thought chasing another until a low ahem pulled her back to reality.
She blinked, only now realizing that Daniel was watching her with unnerving calm.
"Don’t think too much. Eat," he said, his tone strangely even.
Anna’s brows furrowed. Eat? That was all? But when her gaze dropped to the plate before her, her lips parted in shock.
Her food... had doubled.
Two pieces of meat where there should’ve been one. An extra portion of vegetables she hadn’t touched. Even her rice looked suspiciously fuller.
Her head snapped toward Daniel, eyes wide.
"..."
Something she had never imagined in her wildest dreams was unfolding right before her. Daniel Clafford— the man who refused to share a dinner with her was feeding her.
It should’ve been touching. Romantic, even. But Anna’s mind? It went straight to danger.
’What if it’s poisoned?’
Her eyes narrowed at the plate, suspicious glimmers darting between the food and Daniel’s stoic face.
Daniel, meanwhile, noticed her dumbstruck expression and chose the path of denial. He picked up his fork and calmly resumed his own meal, as if nothing had happened.
Yes, what he’d done was entirely out of character. But had he gone further—actually feeding her with his own hand—he was certain Anna would’ve fainted on the spot.
Soon the dinner was done and Daniel had retreated to his own room, however silence once again swallowed the walls around Anna.
But peace refused to come.
She tossed, turned, sat up, lay back down and still her mind wouldn’t settle. No matter how hard she tried, it kept circling back to one thing.
The image of Daniel almost filling her plate with food crossed her mind.
"No. No, no—it can’t be true. Daniel Clafford doesn’t grow a heart overnight." Anna buried her face in the pillow and groaned.
Her voice was muffled, but her denial rang clear. She replayed the scene in her head, searching for cracks in reality. Had she imagined it? Had hunger tricked her into hallucinating kindness?
But no—the memory was too sharp, too vivid.
The way he’d shifted food onto her plate. The calm in his voice when he told her to eat, everything felt weird.
Anna sat up abruptly, hugging her knees.
"It doesn’t make sense," she muttered, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Why would he of all people try to get close to me?"
Her mind churned before landing on the most reasonable yet absurd conclusion.
"...Unless he’s planning something behind my back."
Anna’s heart thudded faster. It was possible. Everything about Daniel screamed calculation. The man didn’t smile without a reason, didn’t breathe without purpose.
She could picture it already—her being lulled into comfort, only to wake up one day in the middle of his schemes like a pawn moved into checkmate.
Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she clenched her fists.
"Ha! Nice try, Daniel Clafford. But I won’t fall for your tricks."
Yet, despite her declaration, a tiny, treacherous thought whispered in her mind:
’...But what if it wasn’t a trick?’
Anna shoved it away immediately, scowling at her reflection in the mirror.
"Never. Not in this lifetime."