"Take her," Silas said coldly, already turning away. "Lock her in the dark room. She deserves punishment."
His footsteps were steady, final.
Stephan exhaled slowly, his gaze settling on Melissa, who trembled where she stood, her knees threatening to give out.
Evelyn moved before she could think.
Her fingers wrapped around Silas's wrist.
"Please… Silas." Her voice broke, soft but desperate. "Have mercy."
Silas stopped.
Slowly, he turned. His eyes met hers—dark, unreadable, but burning underneath.
"She threatened my life," he said, his voice low, dangerous. "Mercy isn't something she deserves."
Evelyn's gaze flickered to Melissa—shaking, fragile, barely holding herself together.
Then she stepped closer.
And without hesitation, she wrapped both hands around Silas's arm, holding on like he was the only thing keeping her grounded.
"Silas… please," she whispered, her voice trembling now. "I'll do anything… anything. Just don't punish her."
For a moment, he said nothing.
Then he turned fully to face her.
There it was—anger. Not loud. Not wild. But controlled. Sharp.
"You didn't pay attention to my test," he said, his tone tightening. "You trust too easily."
Evelyn's grip tightened unconsciously.
"You disobeyed me," he continued, quieter now—but more dangerous. "And now you want me to clean up the consequences."
His jaw flexed.
"Do you think I'm untouchable, Evelyn?"
The words hit harder than a shout.
"Do you think I can't die?"
Evelyn's breath caught.
"You're digging my grave," he said, his voice dropping further. "And one day, I will die because of you."
"No—"
She moved instantly, wrapping her arms around him, holding him tightly as if refusing that reality.
"I'm sorry…" her voice cracked against his chest. "Silas, I'm sorry… You won't die. You can't…"
Silas went still.
He didn't hug her back.
Instead, he tilted his head slightly, biting the inside of his lip, his gaze drifting past her—unsettled, conflicted for just a second.
Then his eyes lifted—to Stephan… to Melissa.
"Evelyn," he said quietly, "if you really knew who I am…"
He paused.
"You'd be praying I died."
Her head shook immediately against him.
"No…"
Silence stretched.
Then—
"If you can make this financial crime case she triggered, disappear for one week," Silas said, his tone returning to that cold calm, "I'll be merciful."
Evelyn pulled back slightly, eyes wide—hope flickering through the tears.
She nodded quickly.
"I will."
Her gaze moved to Melissa.
Relief. Fear. Guilt. All tangled together.
"Now… let go, Evelyn."
His voice cut through everything.
Her fingers loosened slowly, reluctantly.
Then, almost in a whisper—
"…Are you angry at me?"
Silas paused.
A breath.
Then a quiet sigh escaped him.
"No," he said.
A beat.
"Why would I be?"
But his eyes told a different story.
"I'm disappointed," he added, softer now. "In myself… for trusting your instincts."
That one hurt more.
He turned away.
A single look at Stephan was enough.
A silent command.
Stephan nodded once, stepping forward. He reached for Melissa—not roughly, but firmly.
"Come."
Melissa hesitated, her tear-filled eyes lifting to Evelyn.
"I'm sorry…" she whispered, barely audible.
Evelyn forced a small smile.
But it didn't reach her eyes.
And as Melissa was led away, Evelyn stood there—
Realizing this wasn't just about saving someone anymore.
It was about surviving Silas…
Without losing herself in the process.
******
Evelyn lingered in the quiet hallway outside his room, her fingers lightly brushing the wall.
It wasn't the case that troubled her—not really. She could stall it for a week. She would find a way.
What unsettled her was him.
Was he angry?
She didn't understand why it mattered so much… but it did.
She wanted to fix it.
Even if she didn't know how.
The kitchen was silent when she entered.
She moved without thinking—grabbing slices of bread, opening cupboards, searching. Jam… butter… anything.
Her fingers found a jar tucked at the back.
She didn't taste it.
She didn't think.
She just prepared something—simple, clumsy—and placed it carefully on a tray.
She knocked once.
Twice.
"Come in."
His voice came from inside—low, husky.
Evelyn pushed the door open slowly.
And paused.
Silas sat on a rocking chair, dressed in a black robe, soft slippers brushing against the floor as the chair moved gently. His hair was still damp, dark strands falling slightly over his forehead. Glasses rested perfectly on his face as he read, completely composed.
Untouchable.
He didn't look up.
Not until she stepped closer.
"Any progress?" he asked casually, turning a page.
The question stung more than it should have.
Didn't he see what she was trying to do?
"…Mm." She nodded softly, stepping forward and pushing the tray toward him.
That made him look.
His gaze lifted slowly.
"What is this?" One brow arched.
Evelyn forced a small smile.
"Lunch… dinner… anything."
She bent slightly, placing the tray on his lap.
Silas removed his glasses, setting them aside before dropping the book on the nearby shelf.
When he looked down at the tray—toast and jam—he chuckled.
Soft. Unexpected.
Evelyn looked away quickly, her cheeks warming.
"It's not poisoned," she muttered.
Silas nodded once.
"I know," he said calmly.
A pause.
"It might taste worse than it looks."
He picked up a piece of toast and took a bite.
Chewed.
Said nothing.
Then he dipped his finger into the jam.
Tasted it.
And stopped.
Without a word, he reached for a tissue, spitting it out and wiping his mouth clean.
Evelyn's heart dropped.
"…Is it that bad?"
Silas exhaled quietly.
"Why did you use the jam in the fourth cupboard?"
Evelyn swallowed.
"I… I didn't taste it."
Silas dipped his finger into it again.
Then slowly—deliberately—he lifted his hand to her lips.
"Taste the grenade you made for me."
Evelyn froze.
Her breath hitched.
Then, slowly, she leaned forward.
Her lips parted. Eyes closing.
She tasted it from his finger—
—and immediately turned, coughing slightly as she spat it out.
"I'm sorry…" she whispered.
Silas leaned back into the chair, calm as ever.
"Seems lunch is over."
She left quietly, the tray trembling slightly in her hands.
-------
Back in the kitchen, she set it down and exhaled, frustration tightening in her chest.
She couldn't even do something simple right.
After a moment, she poured a glass of water.
Then went back.
"Here…"
Silas took it, sipping once before placing the glass beside him.
"Next time you want to make something for me," he said, voice low, "inform me first."
Evelyn nodded.
She turned to leave.
Then stopped.
"Silas…"
"I'm listening."
She hesitated.
"…Are you still mad at me?"
Silas didn't answer immediately.
"I would never risk your life deliberately," she added softly. "I just…"
"I'm not mad at you."
His voice cut in. Calm. Certain.
"I wasn't, Evelyn."
She turned back, studying him.
Then stepped closer.
"Prove it."
A faint smirk touched his lips.
"You're still breathing," he said. "That's enough proof."
Evelyn moved even closer now.
"No…" her voice dropped. "Call me something that you do when you're not mad at me."
A pause.
"…Flower. Pest. Pet…" She continued
Silas let out a low chuckle.
Then his gaze lifted to hers—closer now, sharper, quieter.
For a second, the air changed.
Something unspoken.
Something dangerous.
Evelyn's breath caught.
"N—never mind," she said quickly, stepping back.
She turned to leave.
"Lock the door behind you…"
She paused.
His voice followed—lower now.
"…my feisty little flower."