My Bratty Wife
Chapter 78 - Seventy Eight

Chapter 78: Chapter Seventy Eight

The soft glow of candlelight cast a warm ambiance over the grand dining room as Suzy descended the grand staircase. Her steps echoed softly on the polished marble floor, a stark contrast to the pounding in her heart.

At the center of the room, Ryan sat at the dining table, his posture ramrod straight, his eyes fixed on something beyond the window. The sight of him sitting there, looking almost ordinary in his casual attire, took her by surprise. He looked surprisingly well, the remnants of his illness seemingly vanished.

A wave of confusion washed over her. Why was he waiting for her? Had he recovered so quickly? And why did he look so... expectant?

She took her seat, her movements stiff and awkward. The silence stretched between them, heavy and oppressive.

The table, adorned with a lavish spread of delicacies, was missing one crucial element – the main course. Suzy’s brows furrowed in confusion. Had they forgotten to prepare dinner?

Just then, Mrs. Madelyn, the head chef, entered the room, carrying a platter of roasted chicken. "Apologies for the delay, your grace," she said, her voice filled with concern. "The kitchen seems to have miscalculated the timing."

Ryan nodded, a hint of amusement playing on his lips. "It’s quite alright, Mrs. Madelyn," he said. "We can wait."

Suzy couldn’t help but notice the subtle exchange between the two. It was as if they were in on a secret, a silent communication that excluded her.

As Mrs. Madelyn placed the platter on the table and left the room, Suzy couldn’t help but feel a surge of annoyance. So, that was it? He had been waiting for the chicken? She seem to be having high expectations towards him lately.

"I see your patience is as admirable as your appetite," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Ryan raised an eyebrow. "Or perhaps," he replied, his voice laced with a hint of amusement, "I was simply enjoying the anticipation."

Suzy rolled her eyes. "Whatever," she muttered, picking up her fork.

"Shall we?" he asked, his voice soft.

Suzy hesitated, her mind racing. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was amiss. Ryan’s behavior was different, almost calculated. It was as if he was playing a game, and she was the unwitting participant.

The silence between them stretched, heavy and uncomfortable. Suzy focused her attention on the table, trying to ignore the intensity of Ryan’s gaze.

"I told the kitchen to prepare roasted chicken," Ryan said, his voice breaking the silence. "I hope it’s to your liking."

Suzy looked up, surprised. He remembered her preference? It was a small thing, but it caught her off guard.

"Did you hit your head while coming down the stairs or is the fever that dangerous that it affected your sense of consideration," she replied, her voice barely a whisper.

Ryan ignored her, focusing on his food. Suzy tried to focus on her food, but her mind kept wandering back to Ryan. This wasn’t the Ryan she knew, the arrogant, self-absorbed Duke who always seemed to be in control. This man, with his quiet demeanor and unexpected acts of consideration, was a stranger to her.

She could feel his gaze on her, but she refused to let him see the turmoil within her. She would deal with whatever was going on between them later. For now, she just wanted to enjoy her meal in peace and go to bed.

A heavy silence settled over the dining room as they finished their meal. Suzy was used to these moments of awkwardness between them, the unspoken tension that seemed to hang in the air like a thick fog and she had started liking it.

"Well, that’s over," she muttered to herself, breaking the silence. She stood up, reaching for a napkin to dab at her lips, ending her part of the dinner.

"I’m going to my room," she announced, her voice barely a whisper.

As she stood up, her chair scraped against the floor, breaking the silence. She turned to leave, but a voice stopped her in her tracks.

"Duchess," Ryan said, his voice low and firm.

She turned to face him, her heart pounding in her chest. What now? What does he want now?"

"I’ll be away for a while," he began, his voice low. "There’s a case I need to handle, someone’s been running around killing people."

Suzy’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. This was news to her. When had this happened? And why hadn’t he mentioned it before?

"A killer?" she echoed, her voice filled with disbelief.

Ryan nodded, his expression grim. "It’s serious, an emergency even" he confirmed. "I need to leave as soon as possible."

Suzy’s mind raced. This was serious. But why was he telling her now? And why did he feel the need to explain himself? Usually he just tells her he would be gone for a while and that’s all.

"I’ll drop you off at your father’s residence," he continued, his voice gentle. "I’ll pick you up when I return."

Suzy’s eyes widened in surprise. Cassandra father’s house? The last place she wanted to be. The Count Edmund’s household was a toxic environment, filled with whispers and judgmental stares. She couldn’t imagine spending any amount of time there. She had escaped that world, only to find herself drawn back into it. The very thought of spending time with that toxic family filled her with dread. She couldn’t let this happen.

"Wait," she protested, her voice barely a whisper. "I don’t want to go there."

Ryan’s eyebrows raised in surprise. "Why not?" he asked, his voice laced with confusion.

Suzy opened her mouth to explain, but no words came out. How could she tell him the truth? That she hated that family, that they had made hers and Cassandra’s life a living hell?

"I’ll make the necessary arrangements," Ryan said, noticing the look of apprehension on Suzy’s face. "Noah will accompany you for your protection."

Suzy nodded, her mind racing. She needs to find a way to avoid going to Cassandra father’s house. But how?

"Good night, Duchess," Ryan said, his voice soft.

Suzy managed a weak smile. "Good night," she replied, her voice barely a whisper.

As soon as Ryan left the room, Suzy turned to Doris, who’s eyes filled with worry. "Can you believe this?" she exclaimed. "He’s sending me to Cassandra father’shouse!"

Doris’s face paled. "The Count Edmund’s residence, Milady?" she stammered. "But... you hate it there."

Suzy nodded, a sigh escaping her lips. "I know," she said, her voice filled with resignation. "It’s going to be a long few days."

Doris looked at her with sympathy. "Perhaps we can find a way to postpone your departure," she suggested.

Suzy shook her head. "It’s no use," she replied. "Ryan is determined. He’s already made up his mind."

She walked over to the window, her gaze lost in the darkness outside. The prospect of spending time at that man’s house filled her with dread. She knew what to expect: endless lectures, disapproving looks, Countess Helene’s torture and a constant feeling of being under scrutiny.

But as she stood there, lost in thought, a flicker of defiance ignited within her. She would use this opportunity to investigate Cassandra’s death. There’s a reason Cassandra showed her those visions in her dreams and that family must have something related to her death or supposed sucide.

She began to plan her next move. It would be a risky endeavor, but the potential rewards were too great to ignore.

With a newfound determination, Suzy turned to face Doris. "Make the necessary arrangements," she said, her voice firm. "We leave tomorrow."

—————————-

In a dimly lit room, draped in heavy velvet curtains, two figures engaged in a hushed conversation.

"How is your stay at the Duke’s mansion so far?" a deep, authoritative voice inquired. " hope you aren’t been suspected?"

"It’s fine, my lord," a more subdued voice replied.

"And the Duchess?" the first voice pressed.

"She’s the same,she doesn’t look or act suspicious. I think she doesn’t seem to remember anything," the second voice responded. "She’s going to her father’s house tomorrow."

"Good," the authoritative voice replied. Just know what’s going on when she’s there," the voice instructed. " And report to me. If you realize she remembers anything, snuff the life out of her."

"As you wish, my lord," the second voice replied, a hint of cold determination in its tone.

"Have you set the next course of action?" the first voice asked.

"Already implemented, my lord," the second voice responded, a chilling confidence in its tone. "My eyes are on the suspect. If she says one word, or dares to expose us, she’s as good as dead."

A brief silence enveloped the room, broken only by the soft ticking of a grandfather clock.

"Good job," the first voice finally said. "You’re dismissed."

The second voice bowed, a silent acknowledgment of the dismissal. As the door creaked shut, the room was plunged back into darkness, the only sound the ticking of the clock, a relentless reminder of the ticking time bomb that was the Duchess.