Sweet For You, Ruthless For Others
Chapter 38: Feigning Care.

Chapter 38: Feigning Care.

Hermia’s POV

A small, amused smile spread across my lips as I turned away from the window.

And now I can say I’ve been proposed to before.

The thought made me giggle, the sound light and unexpected, echoing in the quiet room.

"Niklaus Hathaway proposed to me," I said aloud, shaking my head in disbelief.

For a moment, I let myself revel in it.

I didn’t care why he did it—whether it was for convenience, desperation, or some secret reason he wasn’t willing to share. What mattered was how good it felt to be wanted, even if only for a fleeting moment.

"And I rejected him," I added, a quiet sort of pride settling in my chest.

I tilted my chin, imagining myself as the cool, composed woman I wanted to be—the kind of woman who wouldn’t hesitate to turn down a man like Niklaus Hathaway and walk away without looking back.

I perched on the edge of the bed, the plush mattress dipping slightly beneath me. My fingers absentmindedly grazed the hem of my dress as I bit my lip, my thoughts circling back to him.

Did he think I was pretty? Maybe even hot? Or was it... pity?

My stomach twisted at the thought, and I frowned, shaking my head. No one proposes out of pity. That’s toxic. That’s why I rejected him—because I didn’t know him, and clearly, he didn’t know himself either.

I nodded to myself, agreeing with my own logic.

With a sigh, I stood and ran my hands over the smooth fabric of my dress. How am I supposed to spend the rest of the evening and half the night in this thing?

The thought made me snort. It was ridiculous.

I moved to the mirror, fingers finding the zipper and slowly pulling it down. The silky fabric slipped from my shoulders, whispering against my skin as it pooled around my feet like liquid moonlight.

I lifted it carefully, running my fingers over the expensive material, a wistful smile tugging at my lips.

"Hello, trouble," I murmured, folding it neatly before laying it on the bed.

The bathroom was just as luxurious as the rest of the apartment—white marble, gleaming gold fixtures, a shower with so many jets it looked like it belonged in a spa. The soft scent of the provided toiletries filled the air as I turned on the water, steam curling around me.

I stepped in and let the warmth wash over me, let it rinse away the chaos of the day, the weight of everything I was carrying.

By the time I stepped out, my skin glowed, my hair damp, and for the first time in hours, I felt lighter.

I wrapped myself in one of the plush robes hanging by the door, its softness a small, unexpected comfort in this unfamiliar space.

I was too tired to unpack. I barely had the energy to think.

So I climbed into bed, the cool sheets soft against my skin, and stared up at the ceiling.

Everything was quiet. No family voices echoing down the hall. No expectations pressing down on my shoulders. Just me. Alone in a luxury apartment I never thought I’d live in, with a future I hadn’t planned for.

I took a slow breath.

"Fighting, Hermia," I whispered into the silence, my voice steady despite the lingering ache in my chest.

"You can do this."

A small, determined smile tugged at my lips as I closed my eyes, willing myself to believe it.

>>>>>>>>>>>

Meanwhile,

The Blackwood estate became unusually quiet after Hermia left.

Selena sat on one of the velvet couches in the drawing room, her manicured nails tapping rhythmically on the armrest.

Her eyes flicked toward her father, who sat across from her, his brow deeply furrowed, and his expression uncharacteristically somber.

Selena hated seeing him like this—not because she genuinely cared, but because it meant Hermia’s absence was affecting him.

If her father was regretting driving Hermia away, it could spell trouble for Selena’s carefully crafted narrative as the dutiful daughter.

She softened her features, arranging her expression into one of faux concern. "Dad," she began tentatively, her voice quiet and gentle, "do you think she’ll be fine?"

Her father’s head snapped up, his gaze sharp and cutting. "I don’t care!" he barked, his voice booming. "Stop asking me stupid questions!"

Selena flinched, her eyes widening in exaggerated hurt as he stood abruptly and stormed out of the room, his heavy footsteps echoing down the corridor.

"You didn’t have to shout," Mariela, Selena’s mother, called after him, her tone calm but laced with reproach. She turned back to Selena, her lips pressing into a tight smile. "She was only trying to show care for her sister."

Mariela sighed and placed a hand on Selena’s shoulder. "Go inside and rest, dear. The night has been long."

Selena tilted her head, her eyes glistening with the perfect amount of unshed tears. "Mom, I can’t believe she’s gone," she whispered, her voice trembling just enough to sound sincere.

Mariela’s expression hardened for a moment before softening into something colder, more calculating. "Neither can I," she admitted. "But it was about time."

Selena hesitated, her lips twitching into a pout. "She always drew all the attention," she said, a hint of bitterness slipping through.

Mariela’s eyes narrowed slightly, and she leaned closer, lowering her voice. "And now it’s your time to shine. I need you to draw the Hathaway son’s attention."

Selena’s perfectly plucked brows furrowed in dismay. "Mom, he’s ruthless," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper as though the walls might hear. "I can’t risk being scarred by him."

Mariela’s lips curled into a faint, humorless smile. "If not Niklaus, then aim for one of his brothers. They’re two, and either could secure our future."

Selena groaned, crossing her arms. "I prefer the Garfields," she said, pouting again.

At that, Mariela’s expression darkened. "The Garfields have just cut ties with your father. You heard him bring home the bad news."

Selena’s face fell, and she slumped against the couch dramatically. "But a marriage alliance could fix everything!" she exclaimed. "Mom, talk to Dad, please! I love Liam. He’s perfect for me."

Mariela chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from Selena’s face. "You’re such a sweet child," she cooed. "I’ll try to speak with your father. But for now, be a good girl and rejoice in the freedom you have without Hermia around."

Selena’s face lit up, and she leaned in to kiss her mother’s cheek. "Thank you, Mom," she said with a sugary smile. "Good night."

"Good night, my love," Mariela replied, watching as Selena flounced off toward her room.

The door clicked shut behind Selena, and Mariela’s smile faded.

Her gaze grew distant as she turned toward the grand staircase, her fingers tightening around the pearls around her neck.

There was more to secure now, more to protect. Why did the girl ever come back?!

And as much as she disliked admitting it, Hermia’s departure seem to mean a lot to get husband and she didn’t like that.

With a quiet sigh, she made her way upstairs, her heels clicking softly against the marble, her mind already spinning with plans.