She kept silent. This remained mere speculation without concrete evidence. Voicing it might give Rose room for counterattack.

Besides, Lindsey Weaver’s case remained unresolved. She preferred focusing energy there.

Yet this served as a reminder.

To eliminate Rose as a future threat, investigating her other piano compositions seemed necessary.

Alarieka’s expression remained placid as she murmured, “Understood. Let’s follow Mcintosh Piano Competition’s regulations.”

Just as Paloma nodded, Alarieka’s voice dropped lower.

“Ms. Wyatt, why are you helping me like this?”

Paloma froze, studying the eighteen-year-old before her.

Their first meeting happened in the countryside—a mere slip of a girl at first glance. Initially, Paloma held poor impressions.

As a Mcintosh Piano Competition judge, she’d endured countless bribery attempts from contestants. Assuming Alarieka tracked down her rural address for score manipulation felt natural.

Subsequent events reshaped her perspective.

Resilience. Composure. Brilliance. Astonishing piano talent that left one breathless.

Especially those eyes—crystalline, penetrating, seeming to glimpse one’s soul. Such eyes belonged only to those pure of heart and upright in conduct.

Yet these weren’t her reasons.

Crucially, she detected shadows within Alarieka—barely perceptible self-destructive tendencies.

Once, she watched Alarieka stand head-bowed amidst boisterous crowds, lost in thought.

A girl beside her—likely a classmate—chattered away. While the classmate laughed, eyes crinkling, Alarieka offered only a faint lip-twitch in response.

Soon, friends called the classmate away, leaving Alarieka alone by the inky black lake under night skies.

Alarieka stood silently at water’s edge, gazing into the still surface.

Surrounded by clamor, yet profoundly isolated. Desolate moonlight draped over her solitary figure.

Her eyes remained fixed on the motionless lake.

At that moment, Paloma suddenly felt Alarieka might jump into the lake any second.

Her heart pounded in her throat as she instinctively moved toward Alarieka.

Only when Alarieka stepped back from the water’s edge did Paloma relax.

She’d never been one to meddle, preferring to stay out of others‘ affairs.

So when the urge to help Alarieka surfaced, it startled even herself.

Paloma couldn’t pinpoint why she felt compelled to intervene.

“You’re carrying heavy burdens, Alarieka,” she said softly. “Talking helps—keeping things bottled up will eat away at you.”

Alarieka had anticipated many responses, but not this. She stared blankly.

Words failed her completely.

Paloma patted her shoulder with a sigh. “Rest now. I’ll leave first. Call if…”

“Call me anytime.”

A plainly dressed middle-aged woman entered the room carrying two thermoses, her smile warm.

Alarieka frowned. “You are?”

“I’m the caregiver Mr. Argent arranged,” the woman replied, unpacking the containers onto the bedside table. “Call me Giselle. I’ll prepare tailored meals and soups daily based on your recovery needs.”

Kieran?

Alarieka’s brow tightened.

Two steaming containers now sat open—one holding vibrant dishes, the other Golden Milk, both meticulously presented.

Giselle offered the fork with a gentle smile. “Eat while it’s hot, Ms. Huston. It loses flavor when cold.”

Alarieka turned away, her voice icy. “Take it back. And tell Kieran Argent she doesn’t need his caregiver.”

Giselle’s smile faltered. She awkwardly pulled back the fork, rubbing her palms on her legs. “Did I… displease you? I can remake the meal.”

Though her employer seemed stern, the pay tripled her former income. She couldn’t lose this job.

“It’s not you,” Alarieka stated flatly. “Your Mr. Argent misreads the situation. Leave now.”

Giselle fidgeted helplessly.

Paloma shook her head. “Perhaps return later, Giselle. We’ll call if needed.”

Flustered, Giselle nudged the thermoses forward. “The food’s ready—please eat. I’ll inform Mr. Argent and collect the containers later. No need to wash them.”

Alarieka meant to refuse the food entirely, but Giselle had already hurried out.

Paloma pressed the fork into Alarieka’s hand. “Eat. Don’t waste it.”