“But I thought the reporters at the wedding took a bunch of photos and the wedding was broadcasted live on some channels...” I replied while thinking that the whole thing was such a troublesome mess.
“That was for the wedding ceremony and the reception on the big day itself. After that, there was nothing. You’ve been married for weeks now and there’s not a single post about your married life. There isn’t a photo of you two together. It’s not surprising that strange rumors and conspiracy theories are going around that the whole thing was staged to help with the upcoming election!” he yelled so loudly into the phone that I had to hold my phone away from my ear to keep my eardrums intact.
“Oh, right...that...” I mumbled without caring much about my father’s political career or how much the Vulkans stood to profit from it.
“You better do something about this soon before we need to make a public announcement to address the rumors,” he said.
“What do you want me to do? I’m stuck here inside the Mafia King’s mansion,” I spat in response.
“I don’t know. Do something!” he cried out desperately.
Do something? How I wished it was that simple...
“What are you so worried about? They’ll be choosing whether or not they want to elect you and not Anthony or Diana...” I said before letting out a giggle.
I hadn’t seen Bradon at all and he wouldn’t let me out of the mansion even if I did meet him. Forget all about getting snaps of us out and about on a romantic date together.
“Dahlia!” he yelled my name furiously.
“Good luck,” I said sarcastically.
“Wait!” my father yelled through the phone but it was too late.
Without waiting to hear him pin even more blame on me, I hung up before tossing my phone away from me onto the bed.
“Oh...the audacity of it all...” I hissed through clenched teeth as I shook my head from side to side.
...
**Bradon’s point of view**
It had been a few days since Dahlia had retreated into her room without coming out. The evident pain and distraught that she showed as she demanded to know about Anthony’s whereabouts left me with very mixed feelings. It was difficult enough for me to accept the condition that my younger brother was in, but I found it harder to tell Dahlia the truth. She would probably be even more heartbroken than before, and I didn’t want to deal with that.
Although the Vulkan family had decided to keep Anthony’s condition strictly confidential, it was clear that Dahlia’s parents already knew about it but had not informed their daughter. At first, I didn’t think much of the argument that we had because it was bound to happen eventually. I always expected that the day would come when Dahlia would ask about Anthony and demand to meet him. Since it would do her absolutely no good to learn the truth about his condition, I had already decided not to tell her anything. Silence was golden.
I thought that Dahlia would break down and cry at some point, but I had to say that I wasn’t fully prepared to see just how hysterical she would be. It felt unexpectedly difficult to watch her struggle to hold on to her painful and troubling emotions. Thankfully, both my work and taking over for Anthony kept me busy enough to stop me from thinking about her. I was sure that Jenna was doing a superb job of taking care of Dahlia and catering to her needs. For the moment, that had to be enough.
Suddenly, there was a knock on the door to my study. I knew immediately that it was Jenna, and I could already guess what she wanted to report.
“Come in,” I said.
“I have something to report,” she said before glaring directly at me.
I could sense the disapproval in her gaze. Without having to hear her report, I knew that she was here to give me a lecture on how I’ve been neglecting Dahlia.
“Diana hasn’t left her room for days. I’ve been doing my best to serve her food for all her meals, but she barely eats...” she reported before pressing her lips into a thin line.
“I see...” I murmured.
“Is that all that you have to say? I just told you that she’s not really eating,” she said as a troubled frown creased her forehead.
“She’ll eat eventually when she’s gets hungry enough,” I replied.
“She might get sick at this rate. Aren’t you worried about her?” Jenna asked and I could tell that she was getting more upset with each passing second.
“Why should I be worried about her?” I asked in return.
“How can you say that when this is all your fault?” she snapped at me as she glared at me.
It was the face that I had gotten used to seeing ever since I was just a child. Whenever I did something that I wasn’t supposed to, Jenna would glare at me disapprovingly and then a frown would form in between her brows. She would always use her eyes to warn me about things in situations where she couldn’t use her words. From my experience, I could tell already what she was thinking through the look in her eyes without the need for her to say a word.
“How is this my fault? She’s throwing a tantrum as if she’s still a little girl. She was the one who decided to lock herself up in her room and she’s the one who refuses to eat. So, how is this my fault?” I asked while wishing that Jenna would just leave me alone with my own thoughts.
“If this isn’t your fault then whose fault could it possibly be? You had a fight with her, didn’t you?” she snapped accusingly.
“This conversation isn’t going anywhere. She’ll eat when she feels hungry and if she gets sick, you can call the usual doctor over,” I summarized for her what I wanted her to do.
--To be continued...