Chapter 3
Juliet’s high fever had left her legs weak. She could barely manage to stand. When she forced herself to turn and walk away, a sudden wave of dizziness hit her.
As she collapsed, she thought she caught a glimpse of the villa door swinging open and Norman rushing in, his face tense with worry.
He’d always been cold and detached throughout their eight years of marriage. Now that she was useful to him, he was suddenly playing the role of the devoted husband. The irony cut deep.
A sharp, searing pain shot through Juliet. She curled into a ball, letting out a low, pained moan. She felt someone place a cool compress on her forehead, just like her mother used to do when she was still alive.
Lost in the fog of her fever, she murmured, “Mom, it hurts so much. I feel like I’m dying…”
Norman’s cold tone sliced through her haze. “It’s just a fever, Juliet. Do you have to act like it’s the end of the world? You’re really laying it on thick to make me feel guilty.”
Juliet forced her eyes open, surprised to find that Norman was the one tending to her. She was too exhausted to explain yet again that as an immortal, her sensitivity to pain was 100 times worse than an ordinary person’s.
Her voice came out dull. “Why are you back?”
Norman didn’t respond. Instead, he gestured for someone to roll in a food cart.
“Get up and eat something,” he said.
Juliet’s eyes lingered on the beautifully crafted cakes on the cart, a pang of bitterness tightening in her chest. In all their eight years of marriage, Norman had never once paid attention to her, let alone remembered how much she despised cake.
“These cakes just came out of the oven. Go ahead, try a piece,” Norman said, placing a slice in her hand, his voice uncharacteristically gentle.
Juliet turned her face away. “I don’t like cake. It’s too dense and heavy.”
Norman didn’t seem fazed. “I’ve tasted them myself. They’re really good and will help you put on weight quickly.”
The realization dawned on Juliet then. She was nearly five pounds lighter than Iris. To take Iris’ place at the concert convincingly and avoid tipping off the serial killer, she needed to pack on the pounds as fast as possible.
For a fleeting moment, she’d foolishly let herself believe he might have actually cared.
“Eat the cake, Juliet. We only have three days until the concert. There’s no time to lose,” Norman said, his tone firm and commanding.
Juliet’s voice turned icy. “And what if I say no? Are you going to threaten me with Lenny again?”
Norman looked at her, caught off guard. She’d always loved him, giving in to his every demand for fear of rocking the boat. But today, something had shifted.
He met Juliet’s cold, distant stare, and a flicker of unease stirred within him.
He was about to speak when Seth burst through the door, demanding, “You’re skipping the cake and avoiding weight gain because you want the serial killer to realize you’re not Iris, aren’t you?”
Seth’s face was filled with unmistakable disappointment as he continued, “How could you be so heartless, Juliet? It’s downright shameful!”
At that, Norman’s expression darkened immediately. He opened a jewelry box, pulled out an emerald bracelet, and, without a word, clasped it around Juliet’s wrist.
“Juliet, this is my way of making things right. Be reasonable and go along with this, okay? Don’t push me to take drastic measures.”
Tears rolled silently down Juliet’s cheeks. “Fine, I’ll eat.”
She forced herself to choke down the three cakes in front of her, battling the wave of nausea rising in her stomach. Moments later, she rushed to the bathroom, dropping to her knees by the toilet and vomiting violently.
Suddenly, a glass of water appeared beside her.
“Here, drink some water. It’ll help.”
Juliet slapped the glass out of Norman’s hand, her voice cold and sharp. “Stop pretending to care. Get out!”
Norman was caught off guard, and his white shirt was soaked in an instant. He stared at Juliet, whose face was etched with disappointment, and a strange unease washed over him, as though he’d done something terribly wrong.
But a moment later, he pushed the feeling aside and said, “Get some rest. We’ll keep working on the weight gain tomorrow.”
Juliet picked up the divorce agreement from the dressing table and thrust it at him, her voice empty and detached. “I’m not going to suffer for nothing. Sign these.”
