A Dangerous Obsession
Chapter 60 - 59

Chapter 60: Chapter 59

I didn’t sleep that night.

How could I?

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw my father’s piercing gaze and heard his words slicing through me like a blade. Do you get it now? The shame that had burned through me in that moment still clung to my skin, making me feel like I had been flayed alive.

And then there was Alaric. His grin, his condescension, his goddamn arrogance. It all replayed in my head, feeding my anger until it threatened to consume me.

By dawn, I was still sitting by the window, staring at the forest outside. The morning light spilled into my room, soft and golden, but it did nothing to soothe the storm raging inside me. My knuckles throbbed from my fight, the cuts and bruises reminding me of my own vulnerability.

I couldn’t afford another mistake. Not ever again.

A soft knock on the door jolted me from my thoughts. My heart leapt into my throat, but I masked my surprise, forcing my face into a neutral expression.

"Come in," I called, my voice steady despite the lump in my throat.

The door creaked open, and my maid stepped in, clutching a tray with a steaming cup of tea and a small plate of bread. Her eyes darted around nervously, lingering on the broken mirror before finally settling on me.

"Good morning, Miss," she said softly, her voice trembling just enough to remind me of how I must have scared her yesterday.

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

She set the tray down on the table near the window, her hands shaking slightly as she arranged everything just so. I watched her in silence, noting the way she avoided looking directly at me.

"Do you need anything else, Miss?" she asked, taking a cautious step back.

"No," I said shortly. "That’ll be all."

She dipped her head in a quick nod and hurried out, the door clicking shut behind her.

I let out a slow breath, running a hand through my hair. I hadn’t meant to scare her that much, but maybe it was all for the best. It wasn’t like I had the energy to deal with her. Not when I still felt like I was dangling over a pit of my own failures.

The tea went untouched. So did the bread.

I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t rest. All I could do was think—about my father, about Alaric, about the mess I was now entangled in.

What the hell do I do now?

The alliance was supposed to be my ticket out, my way to prove myself. But Alaric’s actions had shattered any hope I had of making this work. And my father...

The thought of him sent a chill down my spine.

I needed a plan. Something to regain control, to remind everyone—including myself—that I wasn’t just some pawn to be tossed around.

But first, I needed to get out of this... Self confinement.

The walls felt like they were closing in on me, the air thick and suffocating. I stood slowly, wincing as my legs protested the movement. My body still ached, but I gritted my teeth and pushed through it.

I didn’t bother changing out of the wrinkled clothes I had slept in—or rather, failed to sleep in. My hair was a tangled mess, but I didn’t care. Let them think I looked disheveled. It was better than looking broken.

The hallways were quiet as I stepped out, the early morning stillness wrapping around me like a shroud. I made my way toward the training grounds, my footsteps echoing softly against the stone floor.

When I reached the open courtyard, I was met with the sound of clashing swords and the grunts of warriors sparring. It was a familiar symphony, one that usually brought me comfort. But today, it only reminded me of what I had lost.

I clenched my fists, the pain from my injured knuckles grounding me as I watched the warriors train.

"Chlorendia?"

The voice snapped me out of my thoughts, and I turned to see Beta Marcus approaching. He was my father’s right-hand man, a stoic figure with sharp eyes and a no-nonsense demeanor.

"What are you wearing?!"

I ignored him.

He ran his hands through his greying hair as he drew closer. "What are you even doing out here?" he asked, his tone more curious than accusatory.

"I needed air," I replied, keeping my voice neutral.

His gaze flicked to the faint bruises on my face, and his brows furrowed slightly. "You should be resting."

"I’m fine," I said quickly, brushing past him. The last thing I needed was another lecture.

But Marcus didn’t let me off that easily. He followed me as I made my way to the edge of the training grounds, his footsteps steady and unyielding.

"You’re not fine," he said, his voice low but firm. "And you don’t have to pretend to be."

I froze, his words hitting me like a blow.

He didn’t understand.

No one did.

"I do have to pretend," I said quietly, turning to face him. "Because if I don’t, then what am I?"

Marcus studied me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he sighed, running a hand through his hair again.

"You’re stronger than you think," he said.

The words were meant to be comforting, but they felt hollow.

"Maybe," I muttered, looking away.

He didn’t press further, and for that, I was grateful. Instead, he simply nodded and stepped back, giving me the space I desperately needed.

As he walked away, I felt the weight of his words settle on my shoulders.

Stronger than you think.

Maybe he was right. Or maybe he was just saying what he thought I wanted to hear.

Either way, I wasn’t about to let anyone else dictate my path—not my father, not Alaric, and certainly not Marcus.

I turned my attention back to the training grounds, my mind racing with possibilities.

If I wanted to survive this, I needed to be better. Stronger. Smarter.

And I would be.

No matter what it took.