CHAPTER 135: HOW DID YOU GET THIS SCAR?

Anna couldn’t believe the audacity.

One fine evening, Daniel had simply walked into her room, issued a few commands to the staff, and just like that, half his life was moved into her space.

She’d sat frozen on the edge of the bed, watching in disbelief as he organized his files on her desk, completely unbothered by her expression of quiet horror.

After what happened earlier, the mortifying fall, the tension, the almost-kiss she still couldn’t get out of her head. Anna had barely managed to get her composure back. But now, as she stared at Daniel unpacking like he owned the place, she was sure she’d lost it again.

Deep down, she was fuming. ’How could he decide something this big without even asking her?’

She had demanded an explanation, of course — and in true Daniel Clafford fashion, he had shut her down with a single, ruthless threat.

"If you don’t want me here, I can always call your mother and tell her what you did with that little potion she gave you."

That had been enough to make her freeze.

Anna might have refused to follow her mother’s manipulative instructions, but she also knew what Rosiline Bennett was capable of when provoked. Her mother wouldn’t hesitate to storm into the mansion, lecture her for hours, and worse — bring another bottle of that dreadful potion.

So, for the sake of her sanity, Anna had stayed quiet.

Now, she sat there watching Daniel from the corner of her eye as he reviewed a few files, sleeves rolled up, his focus unwavering looking maddeningly composed, as if her silent rage didn’t even register.

’Just look at him,’ she seethed inwardly. ’Not even a trace of guilt or shame. Does he ever stop being so infuriatingly confident?’

"Are you cursing me, my wife?" Daniel’s voice cut through her thoughts. He didn’t even glance up from his papers as he added, "Because the way you’re staring at me, I can practically feel the heat."

Anna blinked, caught off guard, but then glared.

There it was that teasing lilt, that faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. ’He knew exactly what he was doing.’

"You’re imagining things," she muttered, crossing her arms.

Daniel finally looked up, eyes glinting with mischief. "Am I? Because I could swear that look says you’re plotting my murder."

"Not murder," she said sweetly. "Just mild suffering."

He chuckled, the sound low and warm, before returning his gaze to the document in front of him.

Anna huffed and turned away. ’How can one man be so infuriating and so calm at the same time?’

She threw herself onto the bed and yanked the duvet up to her chin, determined to ignore him. But the rustle of papers, the soft click of his pen, and the faint scent of his cologne lingered in the air, making it impossible to relax.

Finally, she asked, voice muffled by the blanket, "Are you going to keep working?"

Daniel didn’t look up. "Why? Do you want me to tuck you in?"

Anna froze, then peeked out from under the blanket just long enough to shoot him a death glare. His smirk only widened.

She turned away again, muttering something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like, "Unbelievable."

Daniel leaned back in his chair, watching her small figure curled under the covers, her shoulders tense even as she pretended to sleep. His smile slowly faded, replaced by something quieter — something he didn’t quite understand.

He hadn’t forgotten. Not for a moment.

Henry’s words still echoed in Daniel’s mind, looping relentlessly — "Miss Anna at the age of ten went through surgery. She donated sixty percent of her liver... to Miss Kathrine."

No matter how many times he replayed it, it still didn’t make sense.

’Why would a ten-year-old child fragile, innocent, barely beginning to live give up a part of herself for a sister when her wealthy family could have easily arranged for another donor?’

Unless... she hadn’t been given a choice.

Daniel’s jaw tightened as that possibility sank in. He could almost picture it — a frightened little girl in a hospital bed, surrounded by sterile walls and indifferent faces, agreeing because it was what everyone expected her to do.

The thought made his chest ache.

He looked toward the bed, at Anna’s sleeping figure curled up beneath the soft blanket. Her hair spilled over the pillow, her expression peaceful — but now, he couldn’t unsee what he knew.

How much had she suffered? How many times had she been made to give until there was nothing left for herself?

His hand stilled over the desk, the pen dropping silently onto the papers. Before his mind could talk him out of it, his body moved.

Moments later, he found himself by the bed, lowering onto the mattress beside her. The shift in weight made the blanket dip, and Anna stirred, her lashes fluttering as the warmth of his arm slid around her waist.

"Daniel..." she whispered, half-asleep, half-startled.

He didn’t speak right away. For a long beat, he just stared at her — the rise and fall of her chest, the faint crease between her brows even in rest.

Finally, his voice came — low, quiet, almost uncertain. "Can I ask you something?"

The tone was so soft, so careful, that Anna’s pretense of sleep faltered. Slowly, she opened her eyes and turned onto her back.

Her gaze found his — and what startled her wasn’t the question itself, but the way he looked at her while asking it.

There was no teasing smirk this time. No arrogance. No cold command.

Just sincerity — raw and unguarded — as if he were asking for permission to step into a place she’d never let anyone enter before.

Anna blinked, her voice barely above a whisper. "What is it?"

Daniel hesitated for a moment, his thumb brushing lightly against the blanket near her arm — a small, grounding motion.

’Why did you do it? Why did you give up part of yourself for Kathrine... when you were just a child?’

He asked but not loud enough, but to himsef and instead held onto her gaze with his hand slowly sliding into her top until his fingers finally traced it.

"How did you get this scar?"