Chapter 89

“I'm not coming,” I muttered, my voice muffled by the fabric. “And just so you know, I hate it when not even a mere servant listens to me.”

I expected silence to follow, maybe even the sound of retreating footsteps, but instead, I felt the bed shift beneath me. The mattress dipped slightly, the unmistakable pressure of someone sitting on the edge of the bed. My breath hitched, and for a moment, I stayed completely still, as if by some miracle, they might not notice I was there.

I lay there, my back turned, seething quietly beneath the sheets. How dare she enter my room after I’d explicitly told her to leave? Who did she think she was? I could feel my frustration bubbling up, ready to spill over.

But then, a voice broke through the silence—low, smooth, unmistakably his.

"No one dares to even breathe in this house if you tell them to do otherwise," Clyde said, his tone laced with a confidence that sent a chill down my spine.

My eyes flew open, the fabric of the sheet suddenly feel