CHAPTER 10 NIGHTMARE

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I consciously opened my eyes from my slumber while lying in my bed, and I felt a soft quilt about my waist.

I'm not sure how I ended up on the bed; I vividly remember passing asleep on my room's floor.

Then I wiped my eyes, and the first thing I noticed was Aaron sitting on my bed, watching at me with concerned filled eyes. This was the first time I noticed he was concerned about me, and I sat up on my bed, knowing he was the one who placed Oilment and medicinal bandage on my wound.

"It doesn't hurt much," I told him, expecting to see a glimpse of hope in his eyes that he cares about me.

My heart is rushing so quickly as I feel his deep gaze over me, halt at my lips, then my breasts, then return to my eyes.

"I know you care about me," I told him with a smile.

That sweet expression in his eyes transformed back to a cold and harsh one when he understood what I was saying.

"No, I don't care about you; I only did this because I'm the only one who can damage you; no one else can." He mumbled something firmly and exited my room.

I gazed at the door where he had just exited my room, wondering, "Why doesn't he agree that he cares about me?" I smiled to myself, but my grin quickly faded as I realized he would never love me.

********

I'm eating breakfast in the dining room right now.

Then, in his costly blue pristine Armani suit, Aaron emerges, looking like a model straight out of a magazine.

Why is he so attractive?

He's the devil, that's a no-no.

Aaron sat in a dining room chair, completely oblivious to my presence until Amy arrives and places his breakfast and coffee on the table, following which she serves me more pancakes.

I told her, pouting, "No, I'm done."

"Eat, you're getting skinny," she said flatly, leaving no room for argument.

When Aaron got soon his breakfast, I hurriedly placed his lunch box in front of him, which I had prepared for him.

"Why do you cook today? You don't need to do cooking because maids are there, and your leg is also hurt," he explained.

"My leg is hurt, not my hand, and it's not a serious injury; I'm doing much better today," I explained.

"I suggest this because if something happens to you, how will I know about that man who gives you that envelope, your reality, which is so necessary for my business," he stated sharply.

After he left, I made the decision that in order to prove my innocence, I needed to identify that mystery individual who gave me the envelope, which Aaron despises and believes I am the betrayer who perpetrated the information leak fraud.

But where do I begin? I have no idea who that man was or how he gave me the package.

Plus, Aaron wouldn't let me leave the house.

What am I going to do now?

I groaned and walked over to the library.

To relieve my overworked head, I'm going to read some fiction literature.

Well, one of Aaron's mansion's most attractive features is its library.

Rows upon rows of neatly lined up books with their spines facing outward, color-coded with dots, fiction section sorted in alphabetical order, young adults area, children's section with low shelves and floor cushions, soft leather recliners.

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