Chapter 5
Cordelia’s POV
It was just a scratch—did they really have to throw me in the dungeon for that?
I turned and ran back. I hadn’t even reached the training grounds when I heard laughter—women’s laughter.
Evangeline stood there in a fitted training suit, a wooden spear in her hand—the very same kind that had just grazed me.
“That was close! Cordelia almost caught you,” Nicholas exclaimed theatrically.
“That throw was perfect—just the right force,” Reginald chuckled.
So it was Evangeline who threw the spear?
“Adrian always says Mrs. Cross is delicate,” Evangeline winked. “She can barely take care of herself—how’s she supposed to look after a little wolf cub?”
The three of them burst out laughing.
I turned away. They all knew, and they were covering for her.
That rookie was just a scapegoat.
And Adrian—did he know? Or was he in on it too?
I don’t remember how I made it home.
By the time I came to, the door was opening.
“Cordelia?”
It was Adrian.
I didn’t turn around.
He came over, sat beside me, and took my hand in his.
“I’m still worried about you. I had someone bring over some ointment.”
“Mm.”
He set down my arm, his gaze lingering on my face.
“Cordelia, what’s wrong? You don’t look well.”
“It’s nothing,” I said. “I’m just tired.”
“Then get some rest.”
He leaned in to kiss me.
I instinctively turned my head away.
“Cordelia?”
His arm slipped around my waist, pulling me close.
“It’s been so long since I’ve really spent time with you…” His voice grew husky, laced with suggestion. “Tonight—”
His lips brushed my neck.
A wave of nausea surged up my throat.
I shoved him away and rushed to the bathroom, collapsing by the toilet, retching.
“Cordelia?!” Adrian hurried after me. “What’s wrong?”
I gripped the sink, gasping for air.
“Cordelia!” Panic edged his voice. “Are you sick? Did you eat something bad?”
I shook my head, unable to speak.
My body felt boneless, slumped against the sink, barely able to stand.
“No, this won’t do. I’m taking you to the hospital.” Adrian scooped me up. “Come on, we’re going now.”
Adrian carried me in, startling the on-call doctors and nurses.
About half an hour later, the doctor came over with the test results.
“Mr. Cross, Mrs. Cross is physically fine.”
Adrian let out a breath.
“Then why was she vomiting like that?”
“According to the tests, Mrs. Cross is not pregnant,” the doctor said. “The vomiting is likely due to emotional stress and lack of rest, causing an acute stress reaction.”
Not pregnant.
I couldn’t tell if I was relieved or disappointed.
“Emotional stress?” Adrian frowned. “She’s been…”
He didn’t finish.
Because he knew.
He knew why I was like this.
“I suggest Mrs. Cross get plenty of rest and keep her spirits up,” the doctor continued. “I’ll prescribe a mild sedative to help her sleep.”
“Thank you, doctor.” Adrian nodded, then turned to me. “Cordelia, I’m sorry. I’ve been so busy lately—I haven’t taken care of you.”
I said nothing.
“After the succession ceremony,” he squeezed my hand, “I’ll make it up to you. We’ll go on vacation—anywhere you want.”
“I’ll go get your medicine. Wait here for me.” Adrian stood up. “I’ll be right back.”
He hurried out.
I leaned back on the hospital bed and closed my eyes.
The clinic was quiet.
But the voices from the next room carried clearly.
“Did you hear? Mrs. Cross was throwing up so badly just now, Mr. Cross carried her in himself.”
“Thought she was pregnant, but the tests said no.”
“Mr. Cross spoils her so much, and she can’t even give him a child.”
“I heard Mr. Cross has been coming home late a lot—says he’s busy with work.”
“Busy with work? When a man says he’s busy, who knows what he’s really up to.”
Each word pierced my heart like a needle.
Adrian came back with the medicine and took me home.
“Cordelia, make sure you take your meds on time.” He set the bottle on my nightstand. “If you feel unwell, tell me right away.”
“Okay.”
“Um…” He glanced at his phone, looking uneasy. “I have some things to handle. I might need to go out for a bit.”
Another late night.
“Go ahead,” I said. “I’ll be fine.”
He pressed a kiss to my forehead.
“Get some sleep. Don’t wait up for me.”
And then he was gone.
The room was empty again.
I don’t know how long I lay there, unable to sleep.
Suddenly, a foreign sensation crashed into my mind—a mental link, unfamiliar and intrusive.
I snapped my eyes open.
This was… sensory sharing?
Among werewolves, it was possible to share sensory experiences through a mental link.
The next moment, my body went rigid.
A torrent of sensations overwhelmed me.
Hands on skin, rough breaths in my ear.
A woman’s moans—sweet, wanton, shameless.
“Adrian… harder…”
Evangeline’s voice.
My stomach twisted violently.
What was she doing?
She’d deliberately opened the sensory link, forcing me to feel everything she and Adrian were doing together.
She wanted me to “experience” firsthand how my husband pleasured another woman.
“Cordelia will never know…” Evangeline’s voice echoed in my mind. “She thinks Adrian loves her… but you like me more, don’t you?”
Adrian didn’t answer.
But he didn’t stop.
I summoned all my strength and severed the link.
Silence fell over the room.
But those images, those sounds, those sensations were seared into my memory.
I clamped a hand over my mouth and stumbled to the bathroom, retching over the toilet.
But nothing came up.
Only tears, streaming uncontrollably down my face.
