That night, Devion came home early, just like the previous day, and Miller couldn't help but suspect it was on purpose. She had just settled down to eat, assuming she would dine alone as usual, when he walked into the dining room. Instead of taking his usual seat at the head of the table, he pulled out the chair directly beside her and sat down.
This unexpected proximity made her frown deeply. Her grip on her fork instinctively tightened, and the metal bent under the unconscious force of her grip. Oblivious to the damage she had caused, she continued to use the now-warped utensil, her movements sharp with simmering anger.
Devion, on the other hand, was quietly enjoying his new vantage point. She was wearing fitted pajamas today, denying him the view of any part of her skin, but he found himself enjoying her calm, floral scent. He wished he could lean closer to breathe her in more deeply, but he knew such action would cross a line into creepiness, a territory he had no intention of entering.
Mama B, observing from an angle, noticed this sudden change in the seating arrangement, and her curiosity was immediately piqued. She had been watching them closely since the beginning of this strange marriage, dutifully reporting the couple's palpable estrangement back to Madam Montgomery. But this... this was new. Had she missed an important development? She was certain she had not; she lingered near the sideboard, ensuring she witnessed every interaction.
The dinner proceeded in a tense, fragile silence that felt anything but peaceful and would have continued that way if Devion hadn't broken the silence and asked with a casual voice. "Why didn't you wear the pajamas you wore last night?"
Miller paused, her fork hovering midair. Then, with a surge of pure fury, she stabbed the fork downward into the piece of meat on her plate. The tines didn't just pierce the meat; they drilled through the ceramic beneath it with a sharp crack, shattering the plate into several pieces.
Mama B gasped, her hand flying to her chest in shock.
Miller didn't even glance at the damage, but she noticed; she was just too angry to acknowledge it. She turned her head, her eyes blazing with anger, and looked straight at Devion. "It should have been added in your biography on the search engine how disrespectful and perverted you are! We got into a mutual contract, and I am sure I deserve some respect!" she seethed. "Can you rich people stop feeling like a god and treat others with respect?" she added, her voice dripping with disgust, before shoving her chair back and storming out of the room.
Devion felt no remorse at all. To him, she was wildly overreacting to an innocent question. His primary feeling was one of loss; her departure took her calming floral scent with her, and he instantly lost his appetite. His attention shifted to the physical evidence of her rage. He looked at the shattered plate, then at the fork she had abandoned. He picked it up, turning it over in his hands. It was bent at a severe, unnatural angle. She had definitely done that. The confirmation made him think back to the file. Had Ethan missed something while looking into her, or was this part of her part of that information that had been blocked out?
Mama B, meanwhile, felt she had struck gossip gold. She had not only witnessed a fiery argument but had also uncovered the truth: the two were not in a real marriage but a contractual one. Immediately, she scurried away to find her phone and deliver this crucial intelligence to Old Madam Montgomery. The dinner concluded abruptly, leaving a table full of untouched food and simmering questions.
---
Miller slammed her bedroom door shut, her body still vibrating with anger. In a blind fit of frustration, she kicked the heavy wooden frame of her bed. To her utter shock, the entire bed shifted several inches backward with a grating screech, slamming into the wall with a dull thud.
She froze immediately, her anger replaced by cold, stark shock. With slow steps she walked to the bed, and to her surprise, she could shift such a heavy-looking bed back to its place without even exerting any force at all.
This wasn't normal at all.
Trembling slightly, she walked to her vanity table and picked up a heavy glass jar of mint balm and DVD. She tried her strength again, exerting what she thought was a little strength to hold the jar, but the glass jar cracked audibly in her hand, shards biting deep into her palm and arm. She winced in sharp pain, throwing it off and watching as blood welled up from the cuts. But then, before her disbelieving eyes, the glass fragments were pushed out of her skin and fell to the table with a soft clatter. The wounds sealed themselves, healing over completely in seconds, leaving behind unblemished skin.
"No, no," she whispered to herself, her voice trembling. "I am only stressed and seeing things." She tried desperately to convince herself, but she could no longer deny the terrifying reality. Something was terribly, fundamentally wrong with her body. 'Was it the house?' she thought frantically, remembering that the strange occurrences had begun since her first day here, but she couldn't be certain. The conviction solidified in her mind: she had to go to a hospital to get checked, or she was truly going to lose her mind.