Dark Revenge Of An Unwanted Wife: The Twins Are Not Yours! - Chapter 89

Chapter 89: Played Again
Ewan gripped the steering wheel of his car, his knuckles turning white with the force of his grip. The streets blurred past him, a stream of city lights cascading by as he raced to get home.

His mind was a chaotic whirlpool of thoughts, each wave crashing into another. Athena. Fiona. Dinner. Sucide.

“Damn it!” He muttered under his breath, glaring at the empty passenger seat beside him, where Athena should have been.

If not for the call, he would have driven her home after the dinner. It was why he had relieved his driver of his work early. However, all his plans have come crashing down.

The memory of Athena’s face—beautiful and blank—haunted him. What had she thought when he hurried away? Did she feel abandoned?

The mere idea made him wince, a feeling of guilt clawing at his insides.

As he turned a sharp corner, the tires screeched in protest. He accelerated further, hoping to outrun the guilt that felt like it was growing through the very marrow of his bones.

‘How can the simple act of dinner go so wrong?’ He thought, tightening his grip on the wheel and fumbling with his emotions. He had feared the worst when he got the call about Fiona’s situation, images of darkness swirling around his mind.

Was it really an attempt at suicide? So soon after the last? What could have triggered this episode? Did she have a brain problem like he did? Was it affecting her mental health?

Panic flooded Ewan as he thought of this. If the version of Fiona that had fought to save him from the clutches of death was now in a state of despair— what did that mean for him? Wasn’t it his fault?

Sitting in that restaurant, he hadn’t realized how critical things had become. And now he was racing towards home, trying to balance a delicate tightrope between being supportive for Fiona while wrestling with his unresolved feelings for Athena.

“Her case is one of life and death!” He muttered desperately, as he honked at a distracted driver who had run a red light. “What was I thinking, even entertaining the idea of dining with Athena when Fiona is still recuperating?”

I should have waited. It’s too soon. My duty to Fiona comes first!

The longing for clarity was drowned by the chaos surrounding Fiona’s distress.

As he approached his house, he could see the familiar silhouette of his sanctuary—but now it felt more like a prison. It was a sleek modern oasis, but the warmth was lost to him that night. It felt eerily cold compared to the raging storm of emotions inside him.

He parked and stepped out, the night air biting at his skin, grounding him in the reality of what he was doing.

Inside, the gentle hum of home met him, but even that felt like a false comfort. His house staff greeted him with polite nods, but he managed only a distracted smile, his mind swirling with uncertainty.

“How is she doing?”

“She is better, according to her personal maid.”

Ewan furrowed his eyebrows. Personal maid? He didn’t remember assigning anyone to Fiona specially. Yet, it didn’t matter, so long as she survived this issue.

The house staff could sense Ewan’s tension but didn’t pry; they were used to the gravity of his moods. They rather scurried to their duty posts, allowing him to stew with his emotions.

Ewan made his way through the dimly lit hallway, approaching the special room he had designated for Fiona after their engagement.

It was an elegant space filled with delicate trinkets and soft lighting that seemed to flicker nervously in the shadows, almost embodying his own anxiety. The door was slightly ajar, and he pushed it open, heart pounding in his chest.

“Ewan!” Fiona exclaimed as she turned to face him, her voice laced with an anxious tremor.

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears that reflected the soft glow of the lamp beside her. She shifted on the couch where she sprawled, her form oddly vulnerable.

“Why didn’t you call me? Why did you choose to do it?!” He demanded, stepping into the room.

The lingering scent of her favorite jasmine perfume filled the air, but it mixed with the tension, saturating the atmosphere with a heavy weight.

This felt like an emotional minefield, and he was tiptoeing through it, unsure of where he would tread wrong, especially since she looked absolutely fine to him.

Then he saw her wrists. They had red slashes all right, but they looked odd, as if the blood wasn’t placed well.

Ewan wasn’t a doctor, but he knew that those slender wrists hadn’t been slashed at all tonight. A totally different matter from what the maid had shouted into his ears when she called earlier.

Fiona noticing this, noticing Ewan’s eyes getting darker with rage, flung her hands behind her, mentally cursing herself for being so stupid as not to paint the wrists properly.

“I didn’t mean to—” She began, but Ewan cut her off, the anger surging more than he anticipated.

“You had me worried sick! And for what? For a cheap joke!” Ewan almost rubbed his chest at the discomfort growing there. He couldn’t believe he had just been played. Again!

And to think he had left Athena alone in the restaurant…

“I didn’t want to! I thought—” Fiona’s voice quivered, but Ewan’s wasn’t in a mood for excuses.

“So you thought fake-slashing your wrist was a good way to get my attention?” His voice rose, filled with anger that bubbled like molten lava. “Where’s the blood? You didn’t think this through, did you?”

As he stepped closer to her, his eyes narrowed, scanning for any telltale signs that screamed for help, anything to suggest that he wasn’t right in accusing her.

Instead, he saw clearly the thin line of bright red paint snaking along her wrist.

“What is this?” He grabbed her arm, leaning in directly, and the dim light illuminated the truth he didn’t want to see.

Fiona pulled her arm back, shame flashing across her features. “I was just— I thought it would be dramatic!” She sounded desperate, almost frantic, trying to justify her actions. “I didn’t think you’d take it so seriously!”

“Dramatic? You faked a suicide, and you think that’s dramatic?” Ewan couldn’t contain his disbelief. “I’m being played, aren’t I?” His heart raced, torn between hurt and anger that simmered dangerously close to boiling over.

“Please, hear me out!” Fiona hurried, her eagerness only fueling his growing ire “I just—I wanted to talk to you. I thought if I went to extremes, you’d see how serious I am about us!”

Ewan felt a storm brewing inside him. “Serious about what?” He barked, frustration bubbling over like a pot left boiling on the stove. “Manipulating my feelings? You know I’ve been worried about you. I intended to support you!”

He stepped back, rubbing the back of his neck as he leaned against the wall for support. The anger he felt was like a hungry beast, ready to pounce, but beneath it lay the nagging concern for Fiona. The very fact that she had attempted to draw him back into her world using such an extreme measure left him feeling raw and exposed.

Fiona swung her legs over the edge of the couch, her face contorting into a mixture of defiance and vulnerability. “I didn’t think it would go this far! You weren’t supposed to leave me. You were supposed to care!”

“Care?” Ewan exclaimed, incredulity warping his features. “I care so much that I raced here, leaving Athena! You think I want to be here dealing with this twisted drama? This isn’t about caring; it’s about your manipulation!”

Now feeling cornered, Fiona’s voice softened, almost pleading. “Ewan, please! I was scared. I saw the both of you, and you looked so happy with her—”

It hit him hard, like a punch to the gut. “What do you mean by that? I didn’t choose to go there to flaunt anything in your face. Why would I do this to you?”

The tension in the room thickened as he processed her words. Had she really been watching him that closely?

“Were you stalking me, Fiona? If you were really in that dark of a place, you would know I was just trying to help…”

Fiona fumbled for words, her cheeks flushing. “I saw you two at the restaurant, laughing like old friends, the kind I used to wish you were with me. It felt like you were slipping away, and I couldn’t let that happen.”

“Fiona…” Ewan sighed, a mixture of frustration and pity filling him. “You can’t just follow me around. You can’t just feign a suicide attempt to keep me around. You don’t realize how damaging this is?”

“I just wanted you to be here!” Fiona said, her voice rising again, tearing into the fragile moment. “But things aren’t always how they appear. I thought that if I put myself in your shoes, you’d understand how I feel—my loneliness without you. Don’t you care at all?”

Ewan’s heart sank. “Caring is not enough to fix this. You need genuine help. But this—this is just a manipulation of what you’re feeling, Fiona!”

There it was again, that flicker of vulnerability in her eyes. As anger bubbled in the pit of his stomach, he pushed it aside and tried to focus on her words.

“But you’re not seeing me!” Fiona pleaded, her voice softening as if she were desperately trying to bridge the distance. “You’re focused on Athena. Even now, I can see it in you.”

“Athena is not just some casual fling. She’s my past. Yet, no matter how much I feel trapped in my past, what does that have to do with you?”