Chapter 2
Evangeline's POV
The footsteps from last night haunted my mind.
I stood at the bedroom window, watching the busy figure in the garden. Tom the gardener was trimming the roses, his movements skilled and focused. He'd worked for our family for ten whole years, always loyal and reliable.
But now, I had to suspect everyone.
"Could it be him?" I gripped the curtain, my heart racing.
Tom suddenly looked up in my direction. I immediately ducked behind the curtain, cold sweat breaking out on my palms. I felt ashamed. What was I doing, spying on a loyal employee like this?
But that voice had been so clear—someone wanted me dead.
I touched my belly, whispering softly to Grace: "Mommy has to find the bad person to protect you."
"Tom's worked here so long, surely he wouldn't hurt me?" I muttered to myself as I quietly made my way to the kitchen.
Martha the maid was preparing lunch, her apron dusted with flour, a kind smile on her face. Seeing me enter, she immediately stopped what she was doing.
"Ma'am, why did you come down yourself? Is there anything you need?"
"Nothing really, just wanted to look around." I tried to keep my voice natural. "What's for lunch?"
"Your favorite cream of mushroom soup, and lemon roasted chicken." Martha said warmly. "I used fresh herbs especially—they're good for the baby."
Her concern seemed so genuine that I began to doubt myself again. Martha had been with our family for eight years, always dedicated and caring.
"Thank you, Martha."
I left the kitchen feeling even more confused. If it wasn't Tom, wasn't Martha, then who could it be?
"Ding-dong—"
The doorbell rang. I walked to the window and saw Wilson the mailman standing at the door with a stack of letters.
My heart began racing again. Wilson came to deliver mail every week—I'd never thought much about it before. But now...
"Could he have done something when I wasn't paying attention?"
I watched Wilson skillfully hand the letters to Martha who answered the door, then ride away on his bicycle. Everything looked so normal.
"Damn it!" I bit my lip hard. "Who the hell wants to hurt me?"
Frustration washed over me like a tide. I felt like a paranoid madwoman, suspecting every innocent person.
The sound of papers rustling came from the study.
I pushed open the door to see Caspian handling documents, his brow slightly furrowed in concentration. Hearing footsteps, he looked up and gave me a gentle smile.
"Darling, what's wrong? You look tense."
I walked over to him, hesitating whether to voice my concerns. Caspian put down his pen and pulled me onto his lap.
"Evangeline, you've been acting strange these past few days. Tell me, what's happened?"
I looked into those caring blue eyes, feeling intense conflict. I should trust him, but that voice had been so certain...
"I... I might be overthinking things." In the end, I chose to lie. "Maybe pregnancy is making me too sensitive—I keep feeling like there's danger around me."
Guilt immediately struck me. I'd never lied to Caspian before—he was the person I trusted most.
"Pregnancy anxiety is very common." Caspian rubbed my back gently. "But you have to trust me—I'll always protect you both. No matter what happens, I won't let anyone hurt you."
His voice was so firm, so tender. I couldn't help but lean against his chest.
"I love you, Caspian."
"I love you too, always."
In his arms, I always felt safe.
The afternoon sun streamed through the living room's floor-to-ceiling windows, bathing the entire room in golden light.
Ophelia walked over with a plate of sliced apples and sat beside me. She was always so thoughtful, knowing my appetite had been poor lately and specially preparing refreshing fruit.
"Here, these are apples I bought this morning—they're very sweet." She brought a piece to my lips.
I took a bite. It was indeed sweet.
"Thank you, Ophelia." I leaned against her shoulder. "I'm so lucky to have you."
"We're family—this is what I should do." Ophelia gently stroked my hair. "But Evangeline, you've been distracted lately. Should we see a doctor? I'm worried you're under too much stress."
Her concern was so genuine that my eyes began to well up.
"I'm just... worried about the baby." I touched my belly. "It's my first pregnancy—I don't know anything."
"That's perfectly normal." Ophelia smiled. "How about I come with you to your prenatal checkup? Making sure the baby's healthy will put your mind at ease too."
"That would be great—I'd feel more confident with you there."
I squeezed her hand, my heart full of gratitude. Though Ophelia was three years younger than me, she always took care of me like an older sister. When Dad remarried, I'd worried about stepmother and stepsister problems, but Ophelia turned out to be so kind.
She stayed with me like this until dinner time.
The dining room was lit with warm candlelight, the table laden with exquisite dishes. Martha's cooking was excellent as always—the cream of mushroom soup gave off an enticing aroma.
"The soup looks good today." Caspian said, ladling a bowl for me first.
I accepted the bowl, blew on it gently, then took a small sip.
Instantly, a distinct bitter taste spread through my mouth.
I frowned and took another taste. Still bitter—not the fresh, savory flavor mushrooms should have.
"Why is this soup so bitter?" I put down the spoon, looking at Caspian.
Caspian tasted his own soup with confusion: "It tastes fine to me. Maybe your taste buds have changed? Pregnant women often experience that."
I looked at Ophelia: "You try it."
Ophelia took a sip and shook her head: "It tastes normal to me too. Evangeline, would you like something else instead?"
My heart began racing. Why was I the only one who found it bitter? Was there really something wrong with this soup, or was something wrong with my taste buds?
"No need." I forced a smile and pushed the bowl away.
But alarm bells were ringing in my mind.
That mysterious voice's words echoed again: 'Someone wanted you dead...'
If it wasn't an accident, if I wasn't being paranoid...
Then someone really was poisoning my food?
I secretly observed Caspian and Ophelia's expressions. They both looked natural, enjoying their meal pleasantly.
But why was only my soup bitter?
I had to verify whether that soup was actually poisoned.
