CHAPTER 114: ROUGH DINNER

It was about four hours later that Fiona was finally able to calm down as she stared at her hand where she had sliced herself when smashing the glass cups, but which had completely healed, leaving bloodstains on the counter and on the floor.

She was calm, staring into thin air, but she was still incensed as she got up and entered the bathroom, sinking into the tub after filling it. She had heard the sounds, and the thought that Cain was fucking someone haunted her beyond words.

Every imagined detail gnawed at her soul, each moment replaying in her mind with cruel vividness. Time seemed to stretch unbearably as she stared blankly at the bathroom walls. Eventually, her composure crumbled, and tears began streaming down her face. Silent sobs wracked her body as she finally released the emotions she’d been holding back. Once her tears dried, she stepped out of the tub, dried herself with brisk efficiency, and walked toward her meticulously arranged wardrobe. Standing before the neatly hung clothes, Fiona hesitated, her fingers grazing the fabric of a silk blouse before moving past it. With a blink, she made her decision, selecting the skimpiest outfit she owned. The dress clung to her like a second skin, leaving little to the imagination. She slipped into it without hesitation, then moved to the mirror to apply her makeup. As she worked, she practiced different smiles, each more calculated than the last. Her mind raced with plans, fueled by spite and determination. The only reason Cain’s lover would survive the night was Eldric’s strict prohibition against killing Cain—a rule Fiona loathed but dared not break. Her hand tightened around a makeup brush, snapping it in two as easily as a twig. She stared at the broken pieces in her hand, the jagged edges reflecting the light. She was about to toss them to the floor when a knock at her door interrupted her thoughts. Without hesitation, she called out for the person to enter. She wasn’t surprised to see one of the servants—a member of the staff in Cain’s household—walk in. He immediately dropped to his knees, his gaze inadvertently drifting to her legs. Fiona allowed it, finding amusement in his fleeting attention.

"You’ve done as I asked?" Fiona inquired, her tone sharp as she lined her lips with precision.

"Yes," the servant replied, his head bowed. "The facilities where the food is stored have been infested with rodents. Cain will have no choice but to leave the house to deal with it tomorrow."

"Good. Now, get out!" she ordered, her voice laced with finality. She didn’t spare him another glance as he hastily exited the room.

Fiona stood and draped a shawl over her shoulders, though she intended to discard it later. Her red dress was entirely sheer, leaving nothing to the imagination. Timing her movements perfectly, she stepped out of her room just as the dinner trolley was being wheeled to Cain’s quarters. She followed the servant pushing the trolley, her steps deliberate and her expression sly.

When the servant knocked, Fiona positioned herself strategically behind him. She smirked as she saw the servant’s jaw drop in awe of her appearance. However, her moment of satisfaction was short-lived. Cain opened the door, his sharp glare cutting through her pretense. It was almost as if he had sensed her presence even before opening the door.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice cold and unwelcoming.

Fiona responded with a casual shrug. "Hungry. You’re not going to starve me, are you?" Her tone carried a veiled threat, a reminder of the leverage she held with his "red medicine" and the influence she wielded with her father.

She waited for him to open the door for her but was still standing there when he suddenly slammed it in her face—more like in the servant’s face, but there wasn’t any difference.

Fiona instantly saw red as she tried to keep her temper under wraps, even as she felt like she was slowly losing her mind. The usual smile was stamped on her face, even as angry tears filled her eyes while she stood in the corridor behind the servant like a fool. Previously, her anger had been like a wild animal she had wrestled into control, but it had turned into a flame she was slowly losing control over. She stood in front of the door, prepared to leave, before she barged in when she saw the door open again with Cain gesturing for the servant to enter.

Fiona didn’t move at first, waiting to see if he was sending her away. When it became clear he wasn’t, she also entered. A sniff of the air had her wrinkling her nose in disgust as she struggled not to turn around and dash out of the room.

"Sit anywhere," Cain told her curtly, moving around and fawning over his lover while she settled in a seat directly opposite him, ignoring the redness of his cheeks as Fiona spoke directly to him.

"I introduced myself earlier, but I didn’t catch your name," Fiona said softly as she laid a napkin on her lap, prepared to dish her own food, even as she appeared completely unaffected by how easily Cain prepared a plate for his lover, almost like he had done so a million times.

"Viole. My name is Viole," Fiona heard him respond, her smile becoming more genuine as she noticed the anger in Viole’s eyes as his gaze roamed over her body, not seeing a reason to gloss over the reason for his anger.

"You like my dress? I can get one for you, but alas! You’re a man. It’s not like there’s anything special about your stick-straight body," she said with a sigh that sounded more disappointed than anything else.

Viole simply smiled as he prepared food for Cain, lovingly adding some more items to his plate as he spoke. "I’ll pass. The last thing I want is to walk around naked, displaying my body to everyone but my lover," Viole said, with a disappointed shake of his head.

Fiona watched him glance up with a confused expression as his face continued speaking. "If my memory serves me right, isn’t that something only whores do?"

Fiona didn’t even react, simply nodding her eyes, a slight excitement in her face, even as she refused to respond to Viole’s words and began to eat almost like she was the superior one. ’Why argue with a dead man?’ she thought, shifting her gaze instead toward Cain, her eyes sliding over his body and the thin shirt he wore with heavy-lidded eyes. She concluded it was worth forcing herself to sit in this room where the smell of him on another lingered, just to see his face.