Chapter 4
636words
Caleb stood by the window on a call, morning light outlining his broad silhouette like a Greek statue in contemplation.
She padded over barefoot and embraced him from behind.
"...I understand. I'll return as soon as possible." Caleb noticed her approach, his body instantly tensing as he hung up.
"What's wrong? Will the garage collapse without you?" She pressed her cheek against his solid back, her voice carrying just-woken hoarseness.
He turned, his face showing post-indulgence fatigue and awkward uncertainty. He avoided her gaze.
"Lydia, about these past two days..." he took a deep breath, as if steeling himself, finally meeting her eyes with unprecedented seriousness. "I'll take responsibility. Would you be willing to... start dating me?"
Hearing this, Lydia froze.
For a moment, her heart felt gripped by an invisible hand, a strange bitterness welling up. The pure sincerity in his clear eyes was more devastating than any lie.
How could someone marked for destruction deserve such sincerity?
The next second, she burst into laughter, doubling over as if hearing the century's funniest joke.
"Dating? Caleb, are you serious?" She wiped laughter tears from her eyes, watching his face drain of color, and said deliberately: "How disgusting."
His expression froze completely as he stared in disbelief.
"Your condition that night... you were a victim, I—"
Just then, her phone rang with a video call. Damian's thunderous face filled the screen.
Lydia glanced at the hurt Caleb, any reluctance quickly replaced by sharper malice. She had to push him away—in the cruelest way possible.
She answered, lazily leaning back against Caleb, deliberately letting the camera capture his bare shoulders and the telling marks on her neck.
"Hi, darling."
"Lydia, did you drug me?" On screen, Damian stood before a messy bed, Ella's sobs audible in the background.
"Yes," she smiled sweetly at the camera. "Did you enjoy yourself?"
When Damian realized she was nestled in a stranger's arms, he exploded.
"Lydia Thorne! Where the hell are you?"
"In a man's arms," she blew a kiss to the camera. "Exhausted from yesterday. Gotta go. Love you."
After hanging up, the room fell into dead silence.
Caleb's expression darkened. He finally understood—from beginning to end, he was just a prop in her revenge game.
"So that wine glass—you drugged it deliberately?"
"Yes, you reap what you sow," she looked up, her smile cruel yet innocent. "Still want to take responsibility for me, Mr. Saint?"
She expected him to call her a "bad seed" or worse.
Unexpectedly, he just stared at her, his gaze deep as a well. After a long moment, he forced two words through clenched teeth.
"Take responsibility."
This time Lydia was stunned. All her attacks, all her humiliation—like hitting a resilient cotton ball. They hurt him but couldn't make him back down.
This inexplicably irritated her.
"Stop joking. If not you last night, it would've been someone else. I just needed a body." She broke free, grabbed her phone, and opened Venmo, finding his name.
She entered a four-digit amount and typed a few words in the memo section.
She held the screen to his face, the successful transfer notification glaring.
"The cost for one night. You're worth this price."
Caleb's gaze fell on the small text at the bottom.
For your services rendered.
His face turned ghastly pale. His lips quivered, but no words came. The humiliation of being explicitly priced crushed his last shred of dignity.
"Caleb," she whispered in his ear like a devil, enjoying his stiffened posture, "if you think you've possessed me and want to compensate for something..."
His ears flushed red from her closeness.
"...don't raise the price, okay?"
