I knew something wasn’t right.
If she wasn’t here throwing a tantrum, that only meant one thing... Something at home had pushed her to leave.
And the way she avoided my eyes when she mentioned Mrs. Lancaster... yeah, it wasn’t hard to put two and two together.
"So," I asked, setting all the teasing aside for the moment, "how long are you planning to stay here?
"Not that long," she said with a shrug. "Just till the weekend. I’ll head back to the dorms after that."
I raised my brows, but didn’t say anything.
It was clear she didn’t want to talk anymore.
It was evident that she was lying through her teeth.
But fine, let her be.
There was no way I could leave her here alone. Even if the hotel was secure, I didn’t trust anyone enough to take that chance.
"Let’s go," I said, getting up. "I’ll take you home."
"Excuse me?" she spat. She narrowed her eyes as she glared at me. "Did you not hear what I just said?"
"I did," I replied calmly. "And from what I understood... You don’t want to go back there. But that doesn’t mean you have to stay here."
"Then where should I go?" she hissed, her voice rising. "I have nowhere else! And I’m not staying in the dorms alone."
"Yeah," I said, keeping my voice low, steady. "That’s exactly what I’m saying. You shouldn’t be alone."
Before she could throw another line at me, I bent down and picked up her backpack.
It was heavier than I expected.
"Oh," I said, lifting it slightly. "You actually brought books."
"So?" she shot back, following as I walked. "Did you think I came here to party or something?"
She looked annoyed as her tone was sharp. But under all that tough exterior, I could see the cracks in her expression.
"Alright, let’s go," I said with a small smile, dragging her along without giving her a chance to argue. "And even if you decide to throw a party there, I won’t stop you."
She huffed but didn’t resist, letting me pull her into the car and all the way to the mansion.
The moment we stepped inside, her eyes darted around, looking as if it was her first time here.
"Woah," she muttered, her gaze flicking from one corner of the hallway to the next. "This house is as grim as ever."
I paused, turning to look at her.
So she wasn’t admiring the architecture, or the rare art pieces, or the careful interior of this place?
She was making fun of it?
I blinked, not sure whether to be offended or impressed by her comments.
This girl... wasn’t the same one who I picked up from the roadside, who was bruised and injured!
She was becoming bolder, reckless, and more mischievous with each passing day.
"So, what do you think this place should look like?" I asked with honest curiosity.
She turned toward me with a spark in her eyes, and her voice was full of excitement as she spoke.
"You know... in my past life..." she started, then laughed softly. "I always dreamed of having my own home. A place where I could put things the way I liked and no one would yell at me to move this or that, without any rules."
She kept talking, not even realizing she was already making my heart melt by her words.
"Unlike here, I’d use lighter curtains... something soft in color and not these heavy things that block out everything. And I don’t like too much art either... I keep things just simple, minimal and quiet."
I watched her carefully.
Her face was full of smile as she kept telling me about her dreams.
"And?" I raised a brow, encouraging her to go on.
She hesitated whether to tell me futhter or not, but she still smiled.
I could tell it wasn’t about the house, It was about wanting a space that felt like hers, which was safe and free for her.
And for some reason, I wanted to give her everything that she wished for.
"In my past life, no one was there for me," she said, her voice softer now. Her eyes dropped to the floor, as all the spark in her eyes was now gone. "And... I wasn’t . I was barely living. Everyone bullied me."
She didn’t cry or ask for sympathy but the way she said it, like she was remembering something really horrible.
I didn’t say anything.
I already knew she’d been bullied. I’d looked into her past. But not everything she was talking about matched what I’d seen in the reports. What she described... it sounded darker than what I was told. Like, there was a whole version of her story I hadn’t uncovered yet.
Still, whether I had all the details or not didn’t matter.
I hated that anyone had laid a hand on her, that they had made her feel helpless and alone.
And I wasn’t the kind of man to let things like that go.
For example, the staff working under the Lancasters... the ones already in prison? My men had been keeping them company, making sure they didn’t get too comfortable behind those bars.
"You know what..." she mumbled and stumbled slightly, but I reached out instinctively, steadying her by the arm.
She didn’t even flinch.
"If that night... You wouldn’t have saved me..." she went on, "Jim would’ve locked me up in a mental hospital."
"And that shady hotel..." she paused, trying to catch her breath. "I wasn’t supposed to be there yet. It should’ve happened two years from now."
I stared at her, but she didn’t seem to notice. Her body was here, but her mind seemed to be absent.
What the hell was she talking about?
That last line... It should’ve happened two years from now—made no sense.
Unless she was talking about something that I didn’t know but she did!