Chapter 5

At the end of Odalys's life, back then, depression had consumed her like a monster in the dark, robbing her of sleep and hope. Now, as she gripped her phone, her fingers clenched so tightly the device felt like it might shatter, her mind was a storm of thoughts.

“It’s just one damn month as a stand-in bride! Nobody’s asking you to lay down your life for her! Why the hell did you go that far? Because she’s adopted and got in your way?” Finnlan’s voice was sharp, his frustration slicing through the air, completely shattering his usual calm and collected facade.

“I already told you—”

"—once you stand in and get this done, and he’s gone, I’ll be your boyfriend. What the hell else do you want?” he snapped, his teeth practically grinding together.

“Pfft!” A derisive laugh escaped her lips. His words were so ridiculous they were almost entertaining, like watching a poorly scripted drama. She couldn’t help but wonder how she’d ever fallen for his second-rate charm and manipulative games in the past.

“What the hell are you laughing at?” Finnlan barked, clearly angry.

Odalys didn’t answer immediately. She stood slowly, walking to the window. Her gaze swept over the potted plants by the sill and over the manicured garden below; her fingers brushed a…

Her tone, when she finally spoke, was cold enough to freeze. “Who do you think you are? What makes you think I stood in for this marriage because of you? Where do you even get the balls to believe that? You’re harassing me right now. Got it?”

“And let me guess,” she continued, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “you thought, after my husband dies, I’d crawl back to you? What kind of delusional world are you living in? Newsflash: I’m the Stewart family’s young madam now.”

“You! You’re just a nobody. Or wait, let me guess—you’re hoping I’ll inherit some of my husband’s wealth after he’s gone, and then you can swoop in and mooch off me? Honestly, I have to admire the audacity.”

“You’re so full of shit,” Finnlan shot back, his voice shaking with barely contained rage. “Do you really think I’m that shallow? Odalys, you’re out of line. If you keep spewing this garbage, we’re done. No ties. Nothing.”

She smirked, her tone mockingly sweet. “Done? Oh, thank God. Do me a favor and stop calling. Go play white knight for Sophia. Maybe she’ll even agree to marry you. You’re such a pathetic simp.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at the thought. Sophia, with her sickly sweet innocent act, probably wanted to please every man on earth—but a guy like Finnlan? Not a chance. To families like the Stewarts, celebrities like him were nothing more than entertainment, disposable and forgettable.

For a moment, Finnlan was silent, clearly stunned by her words. When he finally spoke, his voice was trembling. “Odalys, I’ll give you one last chance.”

“Don’t bother.” Her tone was icy. “Even if you were gift-wrapped and delivered to my door, I wouldn’t take you. Keep harassing me, and I’ll spill all your dirty little secrets for the world to see.” Without waiting for his response, she ended the call with a sharp click.

She glanced at her phone, checking the recording she’d started at the beginning of the call. Satisfied, she quickly uploaded it to the cloud and backed it up to her email.

“Hah.” A bitter laugh escaped her as she rubbed her temples. Thinking about how naive and weak she had been before, manipulated by people she should’ve seen through, made her blood boil.

A sound snapped her out of her thoughts. Taking a breath, she composed herself and walked to the door. Standing there was Percival. Fresh from a shower, he’d traded his earlier bloodied look for casual black loungewear, the fabric fitting him well. The faint scent of mint lingered around him, masking the memory of blood and pain.

Percival towered over her, his eyes scanning her face with quiet intensity. For a moment, Odalys blinked, surprised to see him there. Then, tilting her chin up slightly, she met his gaze head-on. “Percival? Do you need something?” Her voice was calm, her posture steady. She wasn’t intimidated by his presence—if anything…

Chapter 3

Percival’s lips curved into the faintest of smirks. Most people stammered, bowed, or outright avoided his gaze. But she stared right back, unapologetic and unafraid.

“You took one look at me and knew I was poisoned. How?” His voice was low, gravelly, and unyielding. “And how did you know how to suppress it?”

Odalys clasped her hands behind her back, studying him as she replied. The directness of his question told her he’d already tested the medicine she’d prepared—and probably had someone analyze it, too.

“That’s simple,” she said with a light smile. “I’ve studied traditional medicine.” Her tone was breezy, almost playful, as she stepped aside and motioned for him to come in.

Percival hesitated for a moment, his tall frame casting a long shadow into the room. Then, without a word, he stepped inside, his movements slow and deliberate. His presence seemed to fill the space, the air around him thick with an understated but magnetic energy.

Odalys stood there, calm as ever, her every move deliberate. With an almost lazy grace, she tied her long hair back, her tone steady and infused with quiet confidence.

“My mentor’s one of the best in holistic medicine and alternative therapies,” she said, her tone casual. “A legitimate mentor of metaphysics and traditional medicine. I’ve been learning from him since I was three—seventeen years in total.”

She didn’t wait for his response before continuing, her voice dropping just slightly. “You reek of blood. Even if your blood vessels haven’t burst yet, it’s written all over you. I can sense it through your skin. And your blood! It’s got an odd, unnatural smell. That’s how I knew you were poisoned.”

There was no hesitation, no need to hide anything. She spoke about her Taoist roots like it was her badge of honor, not something to downplay.

Percival’s eyes flickered with something unreadable, a small crack in his usual impassive mask. Seventeen years? That was unexpected.

“You can treat it?” he asked, turning to fully face her. His sharp gaze locked onto hers, unblinking, demanding answers.

Her eyes met his head-on, calm and unwavering. There was a depth to them, like looking into still water that somehow felt bottomless. No fear, no hesitation—just that same unshakable composure.

“Treat?” She repeated, her lips curling into a faint smile. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. What I can do is suppress it for now. I can buy you another month, maybe six.”

The casual way she said it made his brow furrow. The best doctors in the world couldn’t even promise him another week. Yet here she was, tossing out timelines like it was nothing. If he hadn’t seen her suppress the poison earlier with his own eyes, he would’ve walked out right then. But he had seen it.

Her words landed hard, like the first breath of fresh air after being suffocated. For someone who had already made peace with death, her calm certainty hit him in a way he hadn’t anticipated. It wasn’t hope—not yet. But it was close.

His hands curled into fists at his sides, the tension so strong his knuckles turned white. But his face stayed calm, his body radiating that same powerful aura that made people think twice before challenging him. If there was any crack in his armor, it wasn’t visible—not yet.

“What’s your price?” he asked, his voice low and steady, cutting straight to the point.

Odalys leaned back, her tall frame resting casually against the edge of a nearby table. She crossed her arms, her sharp gaze never leaving his as she tilted her head slightly, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

“For now? Let’s just say you owe me a favor,” she said, her voice light but laced with something unspoken. “But I do need something specific. Herbs. Old ones. At least a hundred years old. The older, the better.”

She turned and walked to her bag, pulling out a small notebook and pen. Sitting down, she began to write quickly, the pen moving with an almost effortless precision. Once done, she tore the page out and handed it to him.

Percival took it, glancing down at the paper. Her handwriting was bold and precise, every stroke sharp and deliberate. It wasn’t just neat—it had a kind of energy, a power that made it stand out.

“Fine,” he said, his voice slightly hoarse but firm. His grip on the paper tightened, the list feeling heavier than it should have. She was more than he’d expected. The ease with which she’d rattled off the list, her calm certainty—it all pointed to a level of knowledge far beyond what he had anticipated. Whether she was the real deal or just an exceptionally good liar, he’d find out soon enough. All he had to do was verify the herbs on her list.

I've corrected grammar, punctuation, spelling, and inconsistencies in capitalization and formatting. I've also made the dialogue flow more naturally. There were a few instances where the original text was unclear, and I've made educated guesses to improve readability.