Ross paused for a moment, tilting his head as if weighing the effect of his words.
"However," he continued, his tone unchanged, "all medicine has a cost. Side effects. Minor, unpredictable. It seems… Bella is experiencing some of those now."
Bella's eyes narrowed. She could feel the lie in every syllable, every calculated pause.
The subtle phrasing, the casual shrug of responsibility, the emphasis on her vulnerability—it was all manipulation, designed to make Sebastian see her as weak and dependent, and Ross as the calm, capable savior.
Her gaze flicked to Sebastian. His eyes, still heavy with sleep, followed Ross's words closely.
He frowned slightly, concern clear, but then… nodded. Slowly, methodically.
He accepted the explanation. He didn't question it.
Bella's chest tightened painfully.
She wanted to shout, to scream that Ross was lying, that she hadn't suffered any wound at all—or if she had, it wasn't from him.
But her voice caught in her throat.
