The Blood Contract
Chapter 29: The good girl you are

Chapter 29: The good girl you are

"Would you prefer to order your dress online or go pick it out at the store in person?" Dr. Marlowe suddenly asked, her voice soft but carrying a curious edge. The question came while they were still eating, the clinking of silverware against plates filling the otherwise quiet dining room.

Serena put on a frown, her brows knitting together in a show of irritation. It wasn’t because of what the woman had asked, but because she noticed something strange had happened to her when the question was posed.

Although Dr. Marlowe was sitting right next to her and spoke in a near-whisper, Serena had heard the words as if they had been shouted directly into her ear. The clarity was jarring, almost unnatural, and it sent a faint shiver down her spine.

"What dress are you talking about?" Serena asked, her voice steady but laced with a hint of suspicion. She decided to use the moment to test her recent observation, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly as she studied Dr. Marlowe’s reaction.

"The dress for the gala tomorrow," Dr. Marlowe answered.

As Serena processed the response, she realized with a start that it wasn’t her imagination—her hearing was clearer than it had been before. The realization hit her like a wave, leaving her momentarily stunned. How was that even possible? Dr. Marlowe had told her that her father had locked away all her abilities years ago. Before she could fully ponder the implications, a different voice cut through her thoughts, cold and dismissive.

"She isn’t going to the gala," Lucian uttered, his tone nonchalant as he continued to eat, his gaze fixed on his plate as though the conversation were beneath his attention.

"Say what now?" Dr. Marlowe asked, her fork pausing mid-air as she turned to fix her eyes on Lucian. Her expression was a mix of confusion and mild irritation, her brows furrowing as she tried to make sense of his words.

"She will be sick tomorrow, so she will not be able to attend the gala with me," Lucian clarified, his voice calm and matter-of-fact.

Dr. Marlowe’s confusion only deepened, her lips parting slightly as she struggled to find a response.

Serena, meanwhile, shot Lucian a glare so sharp it could have cut through steel.

Across the table, Adrian and Darrell, who had been quietly observing the exchange, exchanged puzzled glances. Their expressions clearly conveyed their disbelief. Had Lucian become a soothsayer overnight? How could he possibly know Serena would be sick tomorrow?

"I don’t understand what you are talking about, Mr. Draven," Dr. Marlowe said finally, shaking her head. She kept her questioning gaze locked on Lucian, her eyes searching his face for any hint of explanation.

"I think she would explain better. Ask her," Lucian replied simply, his tone dismissive. He then went quiet, returning to his meal as though the conversation were over, his demeanor as calm and unbothered as ever.

When everyone’s eyes turned toward her, Serena felt the weight of their stares like a physical pressure. She let out an internal sigh, her shoulders tensing as she prepared to deflect.

"Don’t listen to him. He’s a troublemaker," she said, her voice firm but edged with frustration. She returned her attention to her food, though her appetite had all but vanished.

"I’m a troublemaker?" Lucian asked, finally lifting his head to look at her. His piercing gaze locked onto hers, and for a moment, the room seemed to grow colder. "Did you or did you not tell me to my face that you would be sick on the day of the gala, which is tomorrow, and that you would not be able to attend with me?"

"So what if I said it?" Serena shot back, her eyes blazing with defiance. Her gaze was as fiery as burning lava, and the tension between them crackled like electricity in the air.

"I think this is just a minor misunderstanding, Mr. Draven," Dr. Marlowe interjected, her voice calm but firm. She glanced between the two, her expression one of cautious diplomacy. "Considering that her health has not been the best these first few days, I wouldn’t blame her for thinking she may not be strong enough to make it to the gala with you."

But Lucian lifted a hand, cutting her off mid-sentence. "There is no misunderstanding here, Marlowe," he said, his tone final. "She is going to be sick tomorrow, so I am not going with her. I know I am cruel, but I have never extended my cruelty to sick and weak women. Don’t worry—I have a line of women waiting for an opportunity to be picked as the one who would stand by my side on such an important occasion."

Dr. Marlowe opened her mouth to respond, but Serena spoke first, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"A line of women?" she scoffed, her lips curling into a mocking smile. "Of course, a line of stupid women who know nothing about men of integrity. As if any reasonable woman would want to be by your side when there are reasonable men out there."

Lucian’s eyes narrowed, and a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Like the one that ran away and left you in the face of danger because of a single warning shot?" he asked, his tone laced with mockery. "Is that who you call a man of integrity? Is that one even a man?"

"Stop it, both of you!" Dr. Marlowe’s voice cut through the tension, sharp and commanding. But neither Serena nor Lucian seemed to hear her. They were locked in a battle of wills, their glares like daggers aimed at each other’s hearts.

"At least he’s better than you, and I will choose him a thousand times over you," Serena fired back, her voice rising with every word.

"You should have thought of that when you were throwing yourself at me yesterday," Lucian said, his words deliberate and cutting as surprisingly again her words hit him in a way he hated the most.

The look of perplexity that crossed Serena’s face only seemed to amuse him further.

"If you choose to frolic around with half-witted men, make sure not to bring them to my house. And even if you do it outside, make sure you’re smart enough to avoid me catching you, because if I do, the man is going to feel the full weight of my wrath."

"I am not your property. You have no right to treat me like one," Serena shot back, her voice trembling with barely contained rage.

"Of course, you are not my property," Lucian replied, his tone icy. "But as long as you live under my roof, you will follow my rules. When we part ways, you are free to do whatever you like. But until then, be the good girl you are and stay out of trouble—my trouble, especially." He turned his attention back to Dr. Marlowe, his expression hardening. "The only way I’m attending the gala with her is if you can assure me that she is in good health. I don’t want a sick woman by my side."

Serena clenched her jaw so tightly it felt like her teeth might crack. Without another word, she stood up from the table, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. She turned on her heel and walked out of the dining room, her steps quick and purposeful. Though she was still hungry, the anger boiling inside her left no room for anything else.

As she marched up the stairs, her fists clenched at her sides, she felt an uncontrollable rage surge through her veins. Who does he think he is to control what I do with my life? The question echoed in her mind, fueling the fire within her. Each step she took felt like a rebellion, a silent vow that she would not be caged by his rules or his arrogance.

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