It had always been hard for Olivia to wake up early. She was the kind of girl who, back at her grandfather's home, would burrow into her quilt and cling to sleep until the sun was already high. But last night was different.
Because she wasn't just sleeping in a new room, she was sleeping in the same room as a man the entire city called a demon.
The fear that her neck might be cut in her sleep kept her awake most of the night. Each time she dozed off, panic jolted her back into consciousness. By the time the sky outside turned pale, she had only slept in fitful snatches.
At six in the morning, she sat up carefully, holding her breath, afraid even the sound of her heartbeat might disturb Benjamin.
She turned slightly.
He was still asleep.
Yesterday, she hadn't dared look at him directly. But now, with sunlight streaming faintly through the curtains, she could see his features clearly.
The light fell across his face, illuminating a countenance so sharp, so flawlessly sculpted, it hardly seemed real. Strong brows, a straight nose, lips pressed into a faint line even in rest. He wasn't feminine, there was nothing soft about him, but his masculinity was breathtaking, like a blade's edge honed to perfection.
Dangerous, yes. But beautiful in a way that stole her breath.
Her heart skipped. Quickly, she looked away, ashamed of even noticing.
She tiptoed into the bathroom. There were no toiletries for her, of course not. She didn't have the courage to ask Benjamin, so she searched quietly under the sink.
A toothbrush. But no toothpaste.
Her eyes landed on the single cup by the sink. Inside it was a tube of toothpaste, his no doubt.
She hesitated, biting her lip. Then, cheeks flushed, she squeezed out the tiniest bit, rinsed it quickly with water, and brushed her teeth. The guilt of such a small theft weighed strangely heavy on her.
When she came back out, Benjamin was still asleep.
Her hands twisted together. What am I supposed to do now?
She knew nothing of what a "bride" should be in this house. In her mind, images of ancient brides flitted past—dutiful women who rose early to wait upon their husbands like servants. Was that what was expected of her?
But if she approached him, if she tried to serve him…
Her courage failed her instantly.
Conflicted, she stood awkwardly until the bedroom door opened with a soft creak.
A tall man entered, carrying a tray with a bowl of steaming, inky-black liquid. The bitter scent of herbs filled the air at once.
The man, Marcus paused when he saw her. Then realization flickered across his face. So this was the young bride Madam Donovan had bought for Benjamin to ward off his misfortune.
Marcus had thought he wouldn't see her so soon. None of the servants had expected to find a woman in Master Donovan's room.
Unsure of how to greet her, he gave a small nod.
Olivia lowered her eyes, voice timid. "Are you here to deliver the medicine to Master Donovan?"
"Yes." He inclined his head again. "Hello, Miss Shaw. I'm the Master's subordinate. You may call me Marcus."
She nodded, then obediently stepped back into the corner, trying to make herself small, unintrusive. Her slender frame and quiet demeanor only made her appear softer, easier to like.
Marcus placed the tray down and spoke softly. "Sir, it's time for your medicine."
Olivia kept her gaze lowered, but her attention shifted to the dark liquid.
Her half-sister Vivienne and stepmother Helena had always mocked her, calling her mother a shameless homewrecker. But in truth, Olivia's mother had been the cherished daughter of a scholarly family. Her grandfather, renowned as a doctor specializing in herbal medicine, had passed on his gift to Olivia.
As a child, she had lived with him for years, absorbing knowledge effortlessly.
It was Helena who feared that Olivia would one day inherit her grandfather's mantle and perhaps even control Shaw Corporation. That was why, at ten years old, she had been sent away.
Even so, her instincts for medicine had never dulled. She only needed to inhale the bitter fragrance to know what the bowl contained.
This is for damaged internal organs, she thought, lips pressing together.
"Hey."
The voice broke her thoughts.
She looked up to meet Benjamin's cold, dark gaze.
"Come here and feed me." He sat up against the bedframe, his tone calm yet commanding.
It took her a second to realize 'Hey' meant her. Heart fluttering in panic, she hurried over and picked up the porcelain bowl.
Her voice trembled slightly. "Master Donovan... this medicine has bitter herbs. If you sip it little by little, the bitterness will cling to your tongue even after you eat. Perhaps—"
"I said, feed me," Benjamin cut in, his voice flat as ice.
Her hands nearly shook at the sharpness of his tone.
Marcus, standing nearby, almost gaped. What's wrong with Master today? Why make her do this? He usually endures the bitterness alone without complaint... and now he's treating her like this?
Olivia bit her lip, lowering her lashes to hide her expression. She scooped a spoonful with the porcelain spoon, bringing it up cautiously.
The steam brushed against her face, bitter and sharp. She wrinkled her nose, then instinctively blew on it to cool it before holding it to Benjamin's lips.
He glanced at her once, then drank.
Her hands were steady despite her nerves. She had fed her grandfather countless times before, and the motions came naturally. Still, she didn't dare meet Benjamin's eyes.
Marcus, watching from the side, couldn't help but imagine the bitterness flooding his master's mouth. He grimaced inwardly.
Spoonful by spoonful, the bowl emptied. At last, only the dregs remained. Olivia set the bowl down quietly, unsure what to do next.
Then, from the hallway, a servant's voice rang out: "Master Donovan, Miss Shaw's family is here!"
Olivia froze, the words cutting into her like a blade.
The Shaw family… Father?
Benjamin's gaze slid to her, unreadable. "Do you want to go?"
Her heart clenched. She didn't want to see them. But deep down, some fragile part of her still hoped. Maybe… maybe her father regretted what he had done. Maybe he had come to take her home.
That tiny hope stirred, and she nodded.
Benjamin's expression was calm as he said to Marcus, "Have breakfast prepared. We'll go after."
Marcus blinked. That was unusual. Still, he bowed his head in obedience.
Later, Olivia ate breakfast alone, the food tasteless on her tongue as her mind spun. When she was finished, she was led toward the front hall.
Meanwhile, Marcus, still unsettled, turned to his master. "Sir, why did you do that?"
Benjamin's gaze was cool, dismissive. "She's amusing enough. I'll keep her for a while."
Marcus frowned inwardly. To treat a girl like a pet… he couldn't understand. But he didn't dare comment.
All he said was, "Miss Shaw is an illegitimate daughter. The Shaw family arriving here now… it likely won't be good news."
Benjamin's eyes narrowed slightly. "Go see what they want."
***
In the front hall, Olivia's father Samuel, her half-sister Vivienne, and her stepmother Helena were waiting.
The Shaw family, though nearly a century old, was fading. Samuel had inherited Shaw Corporation but lacked the ambition or diligence to expand it.
Helena, daughter of a wealthy businessman, was still elegant in her forties. Her makeup was flawless, her long dress expensive, her air carefully dignified. In public, she was known as a generous woman, the kind of stepmother who had graciously taken in her husband's mistress's daughter. Not many could be so magnanimous.
But here, in the Donovan estate, a shadow of unease clouded her expression.
Even Vivienne, usually arrogant, lowered her head slightly. Samuel himself shifted nervously in his seat. None of the Donovans had come to receive them—only servants lingered nearby, a silent reminder that the Shaws held little weight here.
Olivia stepped into the lobby.
The instant Samuel saw her, he surged to his feet, anger flashing in his eyes.
"Why did you come so late?" he barked.
The fragile hope in Olivia's chest shattered at once.