Chapter 11: You Had a Seizure

Sorry it's coming late. This one is for the sweet reviews and comments 

Stefan stared at Dorothy silently for what felt like an eternity before his expression darkened. Dorothy sighed to herself.

"I expected this. You're going to get mad, and you're going to think I'm stupid, but I know you, Stefan. I know you can do it again," she said with a hopeful smile.

"Say something to me. Try to talk. It shouldn't be that hard—you did it before," she urged, but Stefan remained silent.

"Fine," Dorothy huffed, standing up and giving her body a light stretch. She jogged in place and cracked her knuckles while Stefan looked at her in confusion. Before he could react, a sharp slap landed on his face.

"Since you're not going to talk, I'll make you talk. You just need something to compel you and luckily I know how to do that" Dorothy said, delivering another slap.

Stefan held his cheek, too stunned to be angry.

"I didn't mean to hurt you, Stefan. I'm doing this for your own good, and I know it hurts. I've been trained with a heavy workload since I was a kid, so my bones are strong—this must hurt a lot. Just try not to scream, okay?" Dorothy said, more like she was bragging. She stepped back and stretched again, rolling her arms as she prepared to throw a heavy punch at his face.

"Haaaaa!" she yelled, charging at him, but suddenly, Griffin appeared in front of Stefan. Dorothy’s eyes widened as she tried to stop herself, but it was too late.

She punched the poor man in the face.

Dorothy gasped, covering her mouth with her palm. Griffin lowered his hand from his face, his nose and lips bleeding.

"I didn't mean it, I—"

"What do you think you're doing, young mistress?" Griffin asked plainly, as if she hadn’t just hit him. "Why are you harassing Mr. Stefan?"

Dorothy opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. Instead, she covered her face in embarrassment.

"I brought the car. Let's go back home," Griffin said, turning to Stefan. "Are you okay, sir?" he asked with concern.

Stefan nodded silently under Griffin’s watchful gaze. Without another word, Griffin wheeled him to the car, throwing one last glance at Dorothy.

"He hates me. I'm sure he hates me," Dorothy thought as she followed them.

The drive home was silent until Griffin finally spoke.

"Mr. Stefan wants to know what kind of restaurant you'd like to dine at in Paris tomorrow. Do your research and let me know before the end of today so I can book the whole place."

"Really? You're still taking me out after everything I did?" Dorothy asked, surprised, but no one answered her.

"Alright, before the end of today then. I know plenty of restaurants, and I can't wait for you guys to try Parisian food," she said with a bright smile.

When they arrived home, Dorothy noticed several unfamiliar women inside—some cleaning, others busy in the kitchen.

"Who are they?" she asked.

"The maids and chef. Mr. Stefan had me bring them in. They're trusted people," Griffin replied.

A woman dressed in an apron approached them with a warm smile.

"Good evening, Mr. Stefan, Mr. Griffin," she greeted, then turned to Dorothy. "You must be his wife. Good evening, Mrs. Everest. My name is Jessica—I'm a certified chef." She extended her hand.

Dorothy shook it hesitantly. "Dorothy."

"Mr. Stefan mentioned that you're in love with Parisian food, so he specifically requested that I focus on that. Come with me and see what I've prepared," Jessica said with a smile, leading Dorothy to the kitchen.

Dorothy eagerly followed her.

There was an array of dishes, and her eyes lit up in excitement when she spotted her favorites—onion soup and escargot.

"You like it?" Jessica asked.

Dorothy nodded enthusiastically.

"These will be served in a minute. You must be tired from your walk. Please freshen up," Jessica said politely. Dorothy nodded and hurried upstairs.

After dinner, the maids and chefs left, as they weren’t allowed to stay overnight in Stefan’s house. It was supposed to be a peaceful night, but Dorothy felt uneasy.

She could hear footsteps—the sound of multiple people chasing after her. She couldn't see them, but she ran as fast as she could. Yet, it didn't feel fast enough.

Dorothy tossed and turned, feeling hot and uncomfortable. The sheets were soaked with sweat. Her stomach twisted in knots, and her chest felt tight.

She didn’t know what was happening, but she needed water. She crawled out of bed, struggling to move, but she couldn't walk. She couldn't breathe.

Dragging herself to the door, she stretched out her hand to grab the doorknob, but her body gave out. Everything turned dark.

It was blurry, dark, and then blurry again. Slowly, things started to clear. Someone was looking down at her. It was a man—but he didn't look familiar. Griffin and Stefan didn’t have such full hair.

"It seems like you're awake. Thank God," a voice said—completely unfamiliar.

Dorothy’s eyes widened. Morning light streamed through the windows. The last thing she remembered was darkness. She clutched her head as a sharp pain shot through it, trying to recall what had happened. She had been struggling to walk… her chest… her stomach.

"Stefan?" she called weakly.

"I'm not Stefan. I'm his personal doctor, Harry," the man replied, rolling his eyes as he hung his stethoscope around his neck. "You and your husband are so ungrateful. You had a seizure last night, and I’m not sure why, but your husband made me fly all the way from California. He didn’t care if I was busy or anything," Harry grumbled.

"Stay here. I’ll go tell him you're awake. He didn’t let me sleep until I assured him you were okay—how ungrateful. I even had to lock him outside," he muttered, stepping out of the room.

Dorothy looked around, feeling confused and trying to make sense of everything when the door opened again.

What she saw next made her heart race.

Stefan walked in—no wheelchair, no Griffin behind him. He was dressed casually in a white shirt and black joggers, his hands in his pockets. His worried expression softened into relief.

Dorothy's breathing grew rapid. She sat up on the bed, inching back as her eyes widened with each step he took toward her.

"You…" she pointed at him. "You…"

Stefan did something that nearly made her pass out.

"What about me?" he asked casually.