Chapter 15: Nicholas's Growing Suspicion

Between Nicholas and I, the quiet had thickened, strained like a thread about to break. Every second felt like a deliberate dance, in which I shifted to sidestep his inquiries, and he got closer to the truth.

However, Nicholas Scott was not a man who remained in the dark for very long.

I saw it in his eyes first. I could feel his gaze on me during breakfast as I pushed scrambled eggs around my plate in an attempt to divert my attention.

His tone was surprisingly composed as he remarked, "You haven't even touched your food."

I forced a grin as I looked up. "I simply don't feel particularly hungry this morning."

His forehead creased, and I briefly believed he might relax. As he sat back in his seat and looked at me with such unflinching focus, I felt nauseous.

He responded, "You've been saying this a lot lately. “I’m not hungry.”

Weary. Agitated. “Cassie, is there anything you're not telling me?”

"No," I hurriedly answered, my words coming out too rapidly.

It was too quick for him to accept.

His presence hovered around the periphery of my meticulously crafted world all day like a shadow. Every look we exchanged, every query we asked, and every silence we shared seemed like a challenge.

To avoid his observation, I tried to immerse myself in my job at the art center. Even Sophie, though, saw that something was wrong.

She added in a worried tone, "Cassie, you look like you've seen a ghost."

Despite the tension in my voice betraying me, I insisted, "I'm fine."

Her gaze grew softer. "You are aware that we can speak, aren't you?"

I nodded, but my throat was so sore that I was unable to speak further.

I was covered in a heavy veil of exhaustion by the time I got back to the penthouse that evening. I rested against the door and closed my eyes for a brief moment of relief as it slammed behind me.

Nicholas was standing in the hallway with his arms crossed and an unreadable expression as I opened them.

He remarked, "You're late."

After removing my shoes, I answered, "I got caught up at the center."

His eyes moved over me, piercing and evaluating. "You've been very busy lately."

I tried to look casual as I shrugged. "This is a busy time."

His quiet was more powerful than words, even if he didn't answer.

My thoughts were racing as I lay awake in bed that night. I was getting closer to the inevitable confrontation—the point at which Nicholas would demand the truth—by the second.

Furthermore, I wasn't prepared.

No number of justifications could account for the pallor of my skin, the black circles beneath my eyes, and the nausea that had become a frequent companion. I knew he was putting everything together and wasn't a fool.

How could I tell him, though? How could I explain that my secret was now a part of our lives and that this wasn't just about me?

When I woke up the following morning, Nicholas wore his spotless suit. His face was aloof as he sipped coffee at the kitchen counter.

With caution, I said, "Good morning."

As I got myself a drink of water, he nodded but remained silent, staring at me.

I could feel the weight of his unasked questions pressing down on me, and the tension was oppressive.

With a tight tone, he finally stated, "I have a meeting later." "But when I return, we need to talk."

My heart fell. "How about?"

He squinted his eyes. "You know what?"

After he went, the hours passed slowly and forever as I tried to get ready for whatever encounter lay ahead.

That evening, when the entrance door finally opened, I was sitting on a couch with my hands clenched in my lap.

Nicholas came in with a mysterious look, set down his briefcase, and walked across the room to me.

"Cassie," he remarked in a stern yet hushed voice. "Stop playing games. I am aware that something is amiss.”

I started to object, but he stopped me with a hand gesture.

His tone was stern as he continued, "Don't lie to me." "You've avoided me at every opportunity, been aloof, and been ill. I deserve to know whatever it is.

With my heart racing, I took a large drink.

Knowing that he wouldn't believe me, I answered modestly, "There's absolutely nothing to tell,"

He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming, and his jaw tightened.

His voice rose as he asked, "Do you think I'm blind?" Do you believe that I haven't observed the changes? Cassie, you're concealing something. And I've had enough of waiting for you, to be honest.

I could feel the walls closing in on me, and the quiet between us was deafening.

"Nicholas." My voice trembled as I started.

But before I could continue, the moment was cut short as his phone buzzed in his pocket.

His face darkened as he took it out and looked at the screen.

"I must accept this," he stated in a chilly tone.

I nodded, feeling both relief and apprehension at the same time.

My hands shaking, I slumped back onto the couch as he left.

However, the respite was brief.

The bedroom door creaked open as I lay in bed later that night.

Nicholas crossed the room to stand beside the bed, his face impassive as he entered.

"Cassie," he whispered, his tone suddenly gentler. "Whatever you're concealing is consuming you." I see it.

I pushed back the tears that ached at the outer edges of my eyes, resolved not to let them fall.

I answered, "I'm fine," but I felt like I was lying.

I could sense the softness of his touch like a lifeline as he reached out and grazed his hand on mine.

His voice was almost gentle as he replied, "You don't have to go through this alone."

I thought about telling him everything for a second. I was begging to say the words that were on the tip of my tongue.

But then I considered the uncertainty and the terror of his possible response.

And I said nothing.

Unspoken but evident, the tension between us weighed thick in the air.

Taking a step back, Nicholas's face hardened again.

He turned away and muttered, "Suit yourself." "But don't count on me to overlook this indefinitely."

I sighed, my chest constricted by the weight of my secret, as the door shut behind him.

I was unable to continue much longer.