Chapter 7: You Will Look Good in a White Dress

Dorothy had been feeling guilty ever since Kai told her that Stefan had thrown her food away because he was allergic to sesame.

"Young mistress, you don’t need to feel bad about it. He’s going to be fine," Kai reassured her for the umpteenth time.

"Are you sure?" Dorothy asked, still unable to shake her worry. "I’m so stupid. I should’ve noticed how uncomfortable he looked."

"I don’t think he’s going to blame you," Kai mumbled. Dorothy sighed and pouted, deciding to let go of her anxiety. Moments later, the car stopped as they arrived at the mansion.

"Mr. Kai, you’re back," Emily said, surprised, as she passed by with a basket of laundry. She looked disheveled, as though she hadn’t had the chance to tidy herself up. Her cheeks burned a light shade of pink—she didn’t want Kai to see her like this.

Kai didn’t seem to notice her state, his attention fixed on Dorothy with his usual gentle demeanor.

"I’ll be heading off now, but please take care of yourself. Remember, you can call me if you need anything, or ask one of the maids. I’m sure they’ll be happy to assist you," Kai said, glancing briefly at Emily before turning back to Dorothy.

Emily, trying to gain Kai’s attention, hurried over to Dorothy and hugged her arm. "I love taking care of the young mistress so much," she said with a bright smile.

Dorothy could sense the lie behind Emily’s words. It was obvious she was doing this to win Kai over, but Dorothy didn’t care about their dynamic.

"Young mistress, are you hungry? There’s plenty of delicious food in the kitchen. I noticed you love kimchi, so I made some for you," Emily added, still smiling.

Dorothy gently slipped her arm free. "I just ate; I’m not hungry," she mumbled, nodding at Kai before heading upstairs to her room. Once she left, Kai also departed.

"When will he ever notice the signs I’m giving him?" Emily grumbled in frustration as she returned to the kitchen.

In her room, Dorothy removed her work clothes and headed to the bathroom to splash some water on her face. Her mind kept wandering back to Stefan.

"Stupid!" she muttered to herself repeatedly. He had been uncomfortable, trying his best not to react, and yet she had insisted—and even scolded him. Way to go, Dorothy.

Stepping out of the bathroom, she opened her cupboard, but something seemed off. It took her a moment to realize that most of her skimpy, tight-fitting clothes had been replaced with comfortable shirts and pants.

Stefan must have done this, which meant he had listened to her complaints. She needed to thank him somehow.

Dorothy searched for the phone Kai had given her and dialed Griffin’s number. He took a while to pick up, and when he did, he said nothing. Of course, he was mad—she had hurt his boss.

"Griffin, can you pass a message to Stefan for me?" Dorothy began hesitantly. "Tell him I saw the clothes and… that I’m deeply grateful for them."

"Okay," Griffin replied curtly.

Dorothy pressed her lips together, wanting to say more about the allergy incident, but Griffin hung up before she could. She stared at the phone in disbelief, scoffing. Putting it aside, she tried on one of the comfy outfits, breathing in the fresh scent. She flopped onto the bed, smiling, and fell asleep almost instantly.

When she woke, the room was dim. She left for the living room, but halfway there, she heard unfamiliar voices. It couldn’t be Griffin—he was always quiet. Curious, she peeked into the dining room and saw people she had never met before: an older man and woman, likely in their fifties, and a man around Stefan’s age, though he looked slightly older.

The middle-aged man seemed familiar. After a moment, she recognized him as Arthur Everest—Stefan’s father. That meant the woman beside him was likely his wife, and the younger man must be Stefan’s stepbrother.

The stepbrother suddenly looked her way, catching her off guard. She realized she had been standing there staring.

"And what do we have here?" he said, drawing his parents’ attention.

Dorothy stepped forward, her heart pounding.

"Dad, Mom, Brother—"

"Call me Tristan," the supposed stepbrother interrupted, flashing her a smug smile. He looked her over from head to toe. "Wow, you’re stunning. If I’d known, I would’ve married you myself."

Something about his tone sent a shiver down Dorothy’s spine, but she forced a polite smile.

"Don’t mind him, my dear. Have a seat—it’s an honor to meet you," Arthur said warmly. Dorothy smiled faintly and sat down.

"I’m sure Stefan hasn’t mentioned us. He didn’t even tell us he got married, let alone invite us to the wedding," Arthur said, sounding disappointed.

"I’m Arthur, his father, and this is my wife, Tasha," he introduced.

Tasha, who had been glued to her phone, didn’t even acknowledge Dorothy. She looked utterly uninterested.

"And this is my son Tristan—Stefan’s stepbrother."

Tristan winked at Dorothy, but she pretended not to notice. So, Tasha wasn’t Stefan’s mother. Dorothy wanted to ask about his real mother but wasn’t sure if it was appropriate.

"So, how was the wedding? What kind of party did he throw for you?" Tristan asked.

"There was no party. It was a quick wedding. We just registered at the county clerk."

"Tch, that cheap bastard. The least he could’ve done was throw a proper ceremony. A beauty like you deserves to be celebrated. I bet you’d look amazing in a white dress," Tristan said, lowering his voice and winking.

Dorothy knew he was trying to compliment her but she didn't know if she should take it as an assault. The atmosphere shifted. Dorothy felt a strange sense of relief when Griffin entered the room, wheeling Stefan in.

"Mute man—sorry, I mean Stefan! We were just talking about you," Tristan said mockingly, correcting himself with fake remorse, a smug grin laying on his hard face.

Stefan ignored him, his expression hardening as he noticed Dorothy with them.

"Relax son. We just came to meet your wife. You didn’t tell us you got married already," Arthur replied.

"Yes Stefan dear. Did we not treat you well enough to get to be apart of something like this" Tasha added, her face could trick anyone in thinking she means well.

"Mr. Stefan wants you all to leave," Griffin said firmly.

"If he really wants that, shouldn’t he say it himself?" Tristan smirked at Stefan, taunting him.

"That’s enough, Tristan," Arthur angrily eyed him.

"What is the matter Arthur? Tristan was just helping Stefan learn how to speak. The boy have been crippled and dumb for nine years. His legs are never coming back but his voice can and if not for you, his company would have crashed a long time ago" Tasha muttered with an eye roll. 

She talked like she meant well but she knew what damn well she was doing and Dorothy has had enough.

Dorothy couldn’t hold back anymore and she snapped. "Excuse me, ma’am, but aren’t you too old to troll your step son like this?" 

Tasha looked stunned. "Who do you think you’re talking to?"

"I’m going to count to five. If all of you don’t leave my husband’s house, I’ll have security drag you people out," Dorothy said coldly.

"How dare you?" Tasha, offended, raised her hand to hit Dorothy but before her hand stopped mid air. Stefan had just wheeled his chair toward her and caught her hand. Even though he couldn’t speak, the suffocating intensity in his eyes and entire presence said more than words ever could.

“Get your hands off my mother, you crippled mute!” Tristan yelled, pulling his mother away from Stefan. “We’ll do what you want and leave, but keep in mind—this isn’t over!” Tristan scoffed, his voice laced with anger as he stormed out.

Tasha shot Dorothy a disgusted look before following him out. Arthur lingered for a moment, staring at Stefan, but Stefan’s gaze was far from his father. Not ready to meet Arthur’s eyes, he remained silent. Arthur sighed heavily and left.

“Call security,” Griffin instructed one of the maids, who quickly rushed to obey. A few seconds later, a line of security guards marched in.

“Mr. Stefan orders that no one enters without permission,” Griffin addressed them sharply. “If this happens again, consider yourselves blacklisted from applying for any job, anywhere.”

Some of the guards glanced briefly at Stefan but nodded, stomping their feet in unison as a respectful salute. Without another word, they pivoted and exited the room.

Griffin wheeled Stefan to the elevator. Dorothy, knowing they were headed to his room, chose the stairs and met them there. By the time she arrived, Griffin was already helping Stefan look for comfortable clothes to change into, replacing his work attire.

“Griffin, I’ll take it from here,” Dorothy said softly.

Griffin paused, glancing at her and then at Stefan. Seeing no objection from Stefan, he gave a short nod, set the clothes down, and left the room quietly.

Dorothy walked to the open wardrobe and picked out the clothes Griffin had selected. She approached Stefan with them in hand.

“No one should treat their family that way,” she said, her voice calm but firm. Stefan, however, didn’t respond.

She sighed, moving closer to unbutton his shirt. As her fingers worked, her eyes caught faint red spots along the side of his neck, triggering a memory. Guilt flashed across her face as she recalled the earlier incident.

“I’m sorry about before,” she admitted quietly. “Kia told me you pushed the food away because you’re allergic to sesame. I didn’t know.”

She gently removed his shirt, replacing it with the one Griffin had chosen. But as she reached to help him with his pants, she froze, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Heat crept up her face as she realized she had never undressed a man before. Slowly, she glanced at Stefan. He was staring at her.

Blinking in embarrassment, she hesitated before bringing her hands toward his trousers. Before she could touch them, Stefan caught her wrist, stopping her.

“Don’t worry,” she said quietly. “I can do it... I just—”

“Thank you,” 

Someone spoke, a male voice, and it wasn't Griffin.