Chapter 4 Done with the Act?

Bianca's expression shifted in an instant, softening into something wounded, almost plaintive. She stepped closer to Terrence without hesitation, her movements bold yet deliberate, fingers curling around the firm line of his arm.

The sudden warmth startled him. His body went rigid, a reflexive tension locking through his frame before awareness returned. His gaze sharpened on her, probing, as if trying to read the intent behind her touch.

What exactly was she trying to do?

Even the servants, watching from the periphery, exchanged looks. To them, Bianca's audacity was nothing short of scandalous—an act born of desperation from a woman who seemed half-crazed to marry Terrence. Yet what shocked them more was that Terrence… did not immediately pull away.

"Sweetheart," Bianca said with a sweetness that was almost too perfect, "I had no idea Mr. Green arranged for me to rest here. I've never stayed in this part of the house before, so I truly don't know how it came about."

The intimate address made Terrence's brow crease faintly.

Was she deliberately trying to draw his attention… or was there another purpose entirely?

Bianca tilted her chin, her wide, luminous eyes catching the light without warning, slipping past his guard. Even though the dark lenses of his sunglasses concealed whatever emotion lay beneath, she could sense the shift—the faint lessening of the cold that usually surrounded him.

"Sweetheart," she continued, "I did ask Mr. Green before. Given how close this is to your study, I wondered if it might be inappropriate for me to rest here. But he assured me there would be no problem, and told me to feel at ease."

Robert's composure faltered. "Mr. Anderson, I would never dare to defy you."

His eyes flicked toward Bianca, a flash of something sharp—resentment, perhaps—passing through them. "Ms. Rodriguez, I know it's true that your first time at Crystal Gardens must feel unfamiliar. I've tried to offer you the best accommodations I can. But you cannot push all responsibility for this situation onto me."

"Mr. Anderson, you must believe me!" Robert's voice tightened, his fists clenching at his sides. He could not accept that Terrence, a man known for keeping women at arm's length, might actually listen to Bianca's insinuations.

"Honey," Bianca said gently but with a sly undertone, "I know Mr. Green has served here for a long time. But I am your fiancée. Sooner or later, we will live together. Why would I be so impatient about it?"

Her arm tightened around his.

"Today's matter ends here," Terrence said at last, his voice cool but decisive. "Reassign her to another room. I do not want a repeat of this incident."

Robert's head snapped up. He had underestimated Bianca. With just a few sentences, she had managed to wrap Terrence into her narrative.

He escorted Bianca to a guest room, his tone clipped. "Ms. Rodriguez, you'll stay here for now. If you need anything, tell me directly."

Bianca's smile was sweet but calm. "Thank you, Mr. Green."

She was still surveying the space when a knock sounded at the door. "Ms. Rodriguez, a woman named Ms. Ember says she's your friend and wishes to see you."

Blair. What was she doing here?

"Bianca," Blair's voice carried a note of impatience as she stepped inside. Her gaze flicked toward Terrence, seated on the sofa downstairs, then quickly away.

When Blair entered, her demeanor shifted into something almost theatrically demure. "Bianca, how can you actually live in Terrence's home? You promised Samuel… Now you're here, isn't this just playing with two men at once?"

"Blair," Bianca's tone sharpened, "Terrence is my fiancé. I suggest you speak with more respect."

Blair stared at her, disbelief clouding her features. Something about Bianca felt… off, though she couldn't pinpoint why.

"Are you really going to give up your feelings for Samuel?" Blair pressed.

She turned to Terrence, adopting a look of pained sincerity. "Mr. Anderson, Bianca's nature is gentle. There are things she's too afraid to say aloud. But as her closest friend, I understand her heart better than anyone. Please… let her go. Let her be with Samuel."

Bianca pinched the bridge of her nose, irritation flickering across her face. "Blair, I haven't even spoken yet, and you're already spinning tales for Mr. Anderson. If you were truly my best friend, why would you say such hurtful things in front of him? Are you trying to make him despise me?"

"Bianca, you love Samuel. How can you say something so false?"

Her gaze cooled, her patience thinning. "Then let me make it clear again—I have no possibility with Samuel. If he's so wonderful, why don't you be with him? I'll even send you a wedding gift."

She crossed the room to sit beside Terrence, leaning in until her shoulder brushed his. Her palm settled lightly over the back of his hand, her smile warm and deliberate. "The only man I will ever marry is Terrence. Did you hear me?"

Terrence froze, momentarily thrown off balance. He was finding it harder and harder to read her.

"Bianca, you…" Blair's voice faltered, disbelief etched into her features.

"Please see Ms. Ember out," Bianca said coolly. "My fiancé and I are going to bed."

Blair's lips thinned. She didn't dare push further in Terrence's presence, retreating quickly.

The moment the door closed, Terrence pulled his hand free. "Is the performance over?"

Behind his sunglasses, his eyes were cold.

"I wasn't acting. Every word I said was true." Her voice was steady, almost pleading, as if she could cut open her own chest and lay her heart bare before him.

Terrence's lips pressed into a line. Without another word, he turned and left.

Robert followed with a tray in hand. As he passed Bianca, a sharp, bitter scent drifted toward her—traditional medicine. Her eyes tracked the tray instinctively.

Was this for Terrence's treatment?

A jolt of recognition struck her. The memory was buried deep, from another lifetime. She remembered when Terrence's eye condition had worsened beyond repair… and the discovery that the medicine he had been using contained two ingredients whose properties clashed. Over time, the combination had not only canceled each other's benefits but had slowly poisoned him, destroying his vision.

By the time anyone realized, it had been far too late.

Cold sweat broke across her back.

So the conspiracy had begun this early?

In the study, Robert stood respectfully at Terrence's side. "Mr. Anderson, it's time to change the medicine."

Terrence gave a brief nod, removing his sunglasses.

Robert worked with steady hands on his eyes. After five minutes, he stepped back. "Mr. Anderson, it's done."

Terrence tried to open his eyes, but the world remained a blur. The study lights were all on, yet he could see nothing but vague shapes and indistinct brightness.

Frustration surged. "Why is there still no improvement after all this time?"

His anger flared, and with a sharp motion he knocked the bottle from the table.

"Mr. Anderson," Robert said quickly, "eye conditions like yours cannot be rushed. The doctor said it's rare… you must give it time."

The cold in Terrence's presence deepened. Robert swallowed hard, not daring to contradict him further.

Upstairs, the crash and Terrence's muffled shout snapped Bianca out of her spiraling thoughts.

No. She would not let it happen again.

She turned and headed for the study, pausing only to draw a steadying breath at the door. "Mr. Anderson, may I come in?"

Without waiting for permission, she stepped inside.

Terrence stood amid the mess, every line of his face taut beneath the shadow of his sunglasses. His voice was ice. "Who told you to come in? Get out."

Bianca didn't flinch. Her gaze swept over the floor, then shifted to Robert. "Mr. Green, perhaps you should leave us. I'd like to speak with Mr. Anderson alone."

Robert hesitated, but unwilling to risk offense, he inclined his head. "Very well, Ms. Rodriguez."

When he was gone, Terrence's expression remained hard. "Out."

Bianca moved closer. "Mr. Anderson, I know your condition troubles you. But after using this medicine for so long without results… I've heard that some combinations of ingredients can seem appropriate yet secretly counteract each other. Prolonged use doesn't just fail—it can cause irreversible harm."

Her words fell into the silence like stones into deep water.