Chapter 8: Do Not Be Pretentious
The hall fell into suffocating silence. Then, a soft, restrained sob broke through—it was Deligraft. Yelena’s face drained of color. Her chest rose and fell with the force of her anger, but she couldn’t find the words to refute him. Instead, she lashed out in the only way she knew how. “How could you speak like this? We labored to raise you. Even if we don’t expect gratitude, this pettiness—this obsession with every little detail—it’s truly disappointing!”
With a sharp clatter, she shoved her chair aside and stormed out. Jesse looked at Caleb, his expression a mix of hurt and disbelief. “How could you say something so cruel?” Without waiting for a response, he shot to his feet, calling Yelena’s name as he hurried after her.
Raquel lingered for a moment, her gaze flickering over Caleb’s still-exposed wounds. For a split second, something like sympathy crossed her face—but she said nothing. Instead, she turned and followed Jesse. The dining hall was eerily empty now, save for Deborah’s muffled sobs. She cried so hard she could barely breathe.
Caleb sat off to the side, unmoving, his face cold and unreadable. Not a single word of comfort left his lips. From an outsider’s perspective, he must have seemed heartless—the ungrateful, cold-blooded son, while Deborah played the part of the devastated mother.
The tense silence was finally broken by the arrival of the medical team. At last, Caleb was able to slip away to his room, leaving behind the echoes of insincere weeping to seek a moment of solitude.
A swarm of doctors moved briskly around him, checking his wounds with furrowed brows. Finally, one of them hesitated before stepping forward, his expression troubled. “The external injuries will take time to heal, and the internal ones… well, recovery won’t be quick either.”
They exchanged uneasy glances, fearing Deborah’s reaction if she learned the full extent of the damage. Caleb, unbothered, waved a dismissive hand. “Just handle the prescriptions and tell Mrs. Quixall I’m fine.” There was no need to dramatize the situation, making it seem like he was deliberately playing the victim. Relieved, the doctor nodded and quickly excused himself, followed by the rest of the medical team.
Caleb was left alone in the room. Silence settled over the room. Despite the daylight outside, the space remained oppressively dim. Caleb leaned against the headboard, any trace of hunger completely gone.
Maybe it was the anti-inflammatory medication, or maybe it was sheer exhaustion, but drowsiness crept in. Just as he was about to drift off, Agnes’ cautious voice came from the door. “Mr. Caleb, Ms. Sherman is here. She says she wants to see you.”
“Sherman?”
“Yes,” Agnes confirmed.
Gianna Sherman—the cherished jewel of the Sherman family and Raquel’s close friend. He had encountered her at social gatherings before, exchanging only brief pleasantries. They had never been close, so her sudden visit left him puzzled.
“Let her in,” he said.
A moment later, the door swung open, revealing a tall figure stepping gracefully inside. Dressed in a pale purple dress and low heels, Gianna exuded a quiet, effortless elegance.
“Caleb,” she said. She was about a year younger than him and had always treated him with a certain warmth, though they were never particularly familiar.
He nodded slightly. “I think you’re looking for the wrong person. Raquel is with Jesse now.”
Gianna didn’t react to his remark. Instead, she walked straight to his bedside, setting down a small jar and a box of medicine. “This is a specially formulated ointment—it works well on scars. And this painkiller is imported, far more effective than what the doctor prescribed. Take it.”
Both items were meticulously wrapped. Caleb’s gaze lingered on the items for a brief moment before he averted his eyes. His voice was indifferent.
“Take it back,” he said.
Gianna parted her lips to say something. Before she could speak, he cut her off. “Tell Raquel to stop being so pretentious. It’s disgusting.” He had only ever showed his injuries to the Quixalls. The fact that Gianna knew about them made it clear who had spread the news. Whether Raquel had shared it out of guilt or some twisted sense of pity, Caleb wanted nothing to do with it.
Gianna’s expression stiffened, her usual composed demeanor faltering for a brief second. In the end, she did take the items back. She merely murmured, “Take care of your injuries.” Her gaze drifted to the bedside table, where a pen and notepad rested. She scribbled down a phone number.
The door closed softly behind her. Caleb didn’t spare a second glance, throwing both the medicine and the note into the trash.
The exhausting day had finally come to an end. But at three in the morning, thirst dragged Caleb from his restless sleep. He fumbled in the darkness, making his way downstairs for a drink of water. As he rounded the corner, he halted. The living room was brightly lit, as if it were the middle of the day. The Quixalls were seated on the couch, their faces grim.
George and Deborah were visibly troubled. Jesse, on the other hand, sat stiffly, his gaze flickering warily from side to side. At the sound of Caleb’s footsteps, four pairs of eyes turned to him in unison.
Deborah hesitated before speaking. “Caleb, there’s something we need to tell you…”
Caleb said nothing and simply took a seat. That look on their faces—he had seen it before. Five years ago, when Jesse landed himself in trouble, they had worn the exact same expression. As if he were the only one who could save the Quixall family.
Deborah wrung her hands together, her face twisting into an awkward expression. “Your sister acted impulsively and made some mistakes—for your sake,” she said, deliberately emphasizing the last part, as if it could somehow lessen their guilt.
Chapter 9: First Time Seeing