Make A Bet

The relentless rain battered against the car windows as Damian drove us through the dark streets. Sitting rigidly in the passenger seat, I acknowledged a bitter truth lodging deep in my chest. I had grown so thoroughly accustomed to submitting to Damian's unreasonable requests that I obeyed him without a single question. Even as he steered the wheel, driving us far away from the route to our villa and directly toward the city hospital, I remained silent, staring numbly at the dashboard.

The sharp, sterile scent of medical disinfectant forcefully filled the air the second we stepped through the automatic sliding doors. It clawed at my senses, making my stomach churn with dread. I submissively followed Damian down the quiet, brightly lit corridor. Our footsteps echoed against the linoleum floor until we walked straight into Sienna’s private ward.

Sienna lay weakly on the hospital bed, an IV line steadily dripping fluids into her vein. She looked exceptionally pale and fragile against the stark white sheets. I noted the drastic, chilling change in her demeanor. Since losing her child, her once gentle, outwardly sweet personality had completely evaporated. It had turned utterly cold, venomous, and spiteful. Glaring dagger-like at me, she immediately opened her mouth to complain to Damian.

"I don't want to see her face," Sienna stated flatly, her voice sharp and unforgiving in the quiet room.

Instead of respecting her wishes and sending me away, Damian acted with a bizarre cruelty. He walked to the edge of the bed and held her tenderly. He gently rubbed his chin against her forehead in a sickening display of deep affection, comforting her in a way he never comforted me.

"Let her take care of you for a few days," he murmured softly to Sienna, yet loud enough for me to hear every word. "It’s what she should do."

The intimate, affectionate scene between my husband and his mistress made my head throb with a dull, relentless pain. I looked away, my fingernails digging into my palms. I silently swallowed my pride and accepted my cruel fate. Shortly after, Damian was suddenly overwhelmed by the massive responsibility of Master Ashford’s funeral arrangements and the impending corporate fallout. He checked his phone with a frown, released his hold on Sienna, and departed. He left me entirely alone in the ward to act as Sienna's personal caretaker.

The hours dragged on excruciatingly. The silence in the room felt heavy and suffocating.

At 2:00 AM, the ward was dead silent, save for the rhythmic humming of the medical equipment. Sienna had slept far too much during the day, leaving her wide awake and restless in the middle of the night. Unable to sleep, she turned her head to look over at me. I was sitting quietly on the rigid armchair by the side of the bed, fighting off my own exhaustion.

"Adeline, you’re too humble," Sienna noted into the quiet room. Her tone was laced with a twisted mixture of mockery and genuine disbelief.

I did not argue with her assessment. I slowly glanced down at the shining wedding ring securely wrapped around my finger. It was a heavy, permanent symbol of my agonizing commitment, a band of metal that tied me to a man who did not love me.

"Isn’t that what love is?" I replied softly, revealing the tragic depth of my devotion.

Sienna scoffed, a harsh sound that cut through the silence. She demanded a glass of hot water.

I obediently walked over to the dispenser and poured it. I returned to the bed and handed the steaming glass to her. However, Sienna deliberately refused to take it. She let her hands rest firmly on the crisp white blanket, making no move to reach for the drink. Her voice dropped, completely devoid of emotion as she stared directly into my eyes.

"I think that you’re pitiful, but I also think that you’re pathetic," Sienna stated coldly. "What happened to the child shouldn’t be blamed on you, but I still couldn’t help but push all of the responsibility and hatred on you."

She verbally admitted her unjust blame, using it as a weapon to tear me down. I refused to engage in her emotional baiting.

"Be careful. It’s hot," I simply replied, keeping my expression neutral as I carefully offered the steaming glass once again.

This time, Sienna took the glass. But simultaneously, her other hand shot out from beneath the sheets. She tightly grabbed my arm, holding me securely in place. I tensed, instinctively trying to pull back, but her grip locked onto my skin. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a tall, imposing figure suddenly standing silently at the ward's open door.

It was Damian. He was watching us.

Sienna’s dark eyes locked intensely onto mine. She was fully aware of his presence in the doorway, timing her next move with calculated malice.

"Let’s make a bet and see whether he’ll feel bad for you," Sienna whispered with a terrifying calmness. "Do you dare?"

I didn't speak. I simply stood perfectly still. I was paralyzed by a morbid curiosity and a tragic, desperate glimmer of hope. Would he step in? Would he finally show a shred of humanity and care if I got hurt right in front of him?

Maintaining intense eye contact, Sienna deliberately tilted the glass. She poured the scalding hot water directly over the exposed back of my hand.

The piercing, boiling pain flared up instantaneously. It bit into my flesh like the attack of ten thousand venomous ants, tearing through my nerves and stealing the breath from my lungs. The searing heat burned through the top layer of my skin in seconds. My silence was my agonizing acceptance of the cruel wager. I willingly endured the severe burn, desperately gambling to see if Damian cared about my pain.

Setting the now-empty glass down heavily on the bedside table, Sienna instantaneously shifted her demeanor. She threw on a flawless mask of innocent, frantic panic.

"I’m sorry, I didn’t do it on purpose!" Sienna cried out loudly, ensuring her distressed voice reached Damian at the door. "The glass was too hot, so I accidentally spilled it. Are you alright?"

Her words rang incredibly fake and hollow to my ears. Enduring the blinding, agonizing pain radiating from my rapidly blistering skin, I slowly withdrew my severely burned hand. I hid it by my side, forcing down the physical torment and the tears threatening to spill. I shook my head, looked straight ahead, and answered softly, "I’m fine!"