Chapter 9

A bloodied body, Olivia's fake sobs, her parents holding and consoling her as if she were the victim. Tristan stood beside her, scoffing, his arms protectively wrapped around Olivia. And then—a blurry figure, running toward her lifeless form…

Melisa's scream tore through the silence of the night.

She bolted upright, her chest rising and falling in ragged breaths. Her wide, wary eyes darted around the dimly lit room as if expecting the nightmare to seep into reality.

"What happened?"

Leonard's groggy voice broke through her panic. He had woken up at the sound of her scream, his sharp gaze now focused on her pale face and the beads of sweat forming on her forehead. His usual cold demeanor was replaced with something unfamiliar—concern.

Melisa bit her lip, still lost in thought. Leonard didn't seem annoyed at being ignored. Instead, he asked again, his voice slower, quieter—gentle.

"Do you need water?"

It took her a long moment to process his words before she nodded slowly.

She had been sleeping peacefully these past few days, almost forgetting about the dreams. But this one was different. In all her previous dreams, she had never seen someone running toward her body. Who were they? Why was their face blurry?

"Melisa. Melisa!" Hearing her name being called, Melisa looked up.Leo was standing beside the bed , looking at her worriedly.

"Huh?"

"Water." He said , his voice had a hint of relief.

Leonard stood beside the bed, holding out a glass of warm water.

"What happened?" he asked again, watching as she set the glass down.

Melisa hesitated, her gaze flickering toward him before she finally said, "Nothing, just a dream."

Leonard didn't look convinced, but he chose not to press further. Instead, he sighed and said, "Alright, go to sleep."

"Mm," she hummed softly, lying back down, though sleep felt far away.

Melisa lay down, but sleep refused to come. The blurry figure in her dream gnawed at the edges of her mind. Who was that? Why did they seem so desperate?

As the wind whispered through the rustling leaves outside, her thoughts slowly faded into the quiet of the night. Eventually, exhaustion took over, and she drifted into a dreamless sleep—finally free, if only for a while.

The morning sunlight stirred her awake. Groggily, she turned toward the sofa out of habit—only to find it empty.

Shaking off the lingering drowsiness, Melisa quickly washed up and dressed. Noticing the dark circles under her eyes, she dabbed on some concealer to hide them before heading downstairs for breakfast.

As Melisa stepped into the dining room, the atmosphere around the table felt unusually serene. Aunt Eleanor, who rarely woke up early, was already seated, her fingers lightly holding a fork.

Although Tristan had run away from their wedding, Melisa couldn't bring herself to be angry with him. After all, she was only standing in her sister's place—what right did she have to hold resentment? She only felt awkward about facing him again. More than anything, she hoped this family wouldn't fall apart because of her presence.

She pulled out a chair and sat down, offering a polite smile. "Good morning."

"Good morning, Melisa, dear," Aunt Eleanor was the first to greet her, followed by Uncle George.

"Morning, Melisa."

Leonard merely nodded in acknowledgment, but his gaze lingered on her face for a moment longer than necessary.

She shifted uncomfortably under his stare, feeling as though he could see through the concealer hiding her exhaustion. Maybe I'm just overthinking… she reassured herself. After all, she had covered the evidence well.

What Melisa didn't know was that Leonard had started waking up earlier just to catch a glimpse of her sleeping face.

After placing his fork down, Uncle George spoke in a cheerful tone, "Melisa, you're working as an assistant at your current company, right?"

Melisa paused, sensing something unusual. Why was Uncle George bringing this up so suddenly? A bad premonition settled in her chest, but she still answered calmly, "Yes, Uncle George."

"Why don't you come work at Soveir Company?" His tone grew even more enthusiastic. "Leonard seems to need an assistant."

Melisa's gaze flickered to Leonard, who was already looking at her with what seemed like faint anticipation. She hesitated before replying, "Uncle George, what if people start spreading rumors about me getting in through connections? It wouldn't be good for the company's reputation."

"You're his wife, and your work abilities are excellent. There's nothing wrong with it," Uncle George reasoned.

Melisa pursed her lips. "Uncle George, this is too sudden. Give me some time to think about it."

Uncle George nodded knowingly, understanding her concerns, and didn't push further. Instead, he shot his son a meaningful look—one that practically said, I've helped you enough, now it's your turn.

Leonard, who had just taken a sip of water, nearly choked on it. Aunt Eleanor quickly patted his back, handing him a glass of water while Melisa pretended not to notice.

The tense atmosphere finally melted down, and breakfast continued in a much lighter mood.

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Later that morning, after everyone except Aunt Eleanor had left for work, she sat in the hall, the television playing in the background. However, her attention wasn't on the screen—her gaze kept drifting toward the door, waiting for her beloved youngest son.

Hearing the sound of a car engine, Aunt Eleanor quickly got up and rushed outside. Her heart pounded with anticipation as the car came to a stop in the driveway.