---
Chapter 7: "Sam"?
Pilea entered her room, already hearing the sound of her rumbling stomach.
Her eyebrows furrowed as she gently touched her belly.
"Please, you have to understand this situation," she mumbled, holding her stomach tightly.
For the past two days, she hadn't dared eat any of the food brought to her room. She glanced at the untouched dishes beside her, then sighed and lay back down on the bed.
The next day was Saturday, and her mind was filled with worry about her brother, Sam. He must be so worried about her. She could feel her temperature rising, a result of the lack of nutrients in her body.
The following morning, the two maids who usually checked on her were shocked to find her still asleep—something very unlike her.
The maid with brown hair cautiously stepped forward but didn't touch her; she could tell Pilea was running a serious fever.
The other maid quickly left the room to inform Androsen, who was in the parlor. His cold gaze sent shivers down the maid's spine as she nervously spoke, "Master, it's Pilea."
Androsen's eyebrows furrowed deeply. "What happened?"
The maid took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his piercing stare. "She's been running a serious fever for the past two days. No food has gone through her mouth."
Androsen stood and walked out of the room, leaving the maid grateful that Pilea was still alive.
He entered her room to find her asleep, but not peacefully—she looked like she was in pain. Her face was flushed, but her beautiful skin had turned pale.
He hadn't noticed before—or maybe he hadn't cared—that she had been looking exhausted.
He came closer, as the maid who brought her food entered, carrying a bowl of hot soup. The aroma was inviting.
Androsen carefully placed his hand on her forehead, then held her palm. Her skin was burning hot.
Before anyone knew it, her temperature dropped, and within thirty seconds she began to recover.
Her eyes fluttered open to see a figure sitting beside her, his expression a strange mix of warmth and anger.
Though blurry at first, her vision cleared.
Her face calmed as she sat up on the bed. "A-Androsen!" she exclaimed, her voice a bit loud before she immediately held her head.
"No headache?" she murmured to herself.
When she lay there, she felt as if chains were holding her to the bed.
Androsen sighed, frustrated. "Bring the food," he commanded, his voice softer than usual.
The maid handed him the spoonful of hot soup, and Pilea's green eyes glanced at it suspiciously.
Pilea looked at him speechless. He sighed and put the spoon in his own mouth.
"See? Now eat," he said in a commanding tone, offering another spoonful.
Pilea hesitated, furrowing her brows at the look he gave her. But before she realized it, she placed the spoon in her mouth and swallowed.
That was when she noticed—it was an indirect kiss. But she didn't push it further; after all, an indirect kiss wasn't a real kiss. So, she continued eating, and by the third spoonful, she didn't mind at all.
The food tasted nice. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd eaten anything.
Just as Androsen was about to give her the medicine the doctor recommended (though he hadn't hurt her physically), someone knocked at the door, stopping them both in their tracks.
"Come in," they said in unison.
A man in his early forties entered, dressed in a decent but not extravagant suit.
"Someone is here to see you, master," he said with a slight bow.
"Good day, my lady," the man greeted Pilea.
Pilea gave him a light smile, signaling she was okay. She could tell from his eyes he must have been worried. She noticed all the maids in the room looked more concerned than Androsen when she woke.
The man shifted his gaze to Androsen, who was staring daggers at him, clearly impatient and wanting the visitor to speak and leave quickly.
"Sir, someone is here to see you," the butler repeated.
Androsen's eyebrows knitted in irritation. "Tell the person to see me later. I'm quite busy."
He didn't even glance at Pilea, who looked at the butler curiously and with interest. Since arriving, she hadn't seen any visitors except Androsen, the servants, and that mysterious figure whose face she hadn't seen the other day.
The butler cleared his throat, feeling Androsen's piercing gaze, which questioned why he hadn't left yet.
He inhaled deeply and said, "Sir, he claims he is…" His eyes met Pilea's briefly.
"Mrs. Pilea's brother. And his name is Sam."
A mischievous smile appeared on Androsen's face—a sight very new to Pilea, though it suited his handsome features.
The silence from Pilea was confirmation enough for Androsen that she had a brother. He had already dug up all her information, but she didn't know this yet.
"Sam," she whispered, her eyes filled with a mix of worry and satisfaction.
She tried to stand, but Androsen's gaze alone made her sit back down.
Androsen carried a dark aura that made others fear him. For Pilea, it was harder to feel that fear, but she knew when he truly meant harm.
For some reason, she couldn't bring herself to trust him—no matter how she tried.
She glanced at the butler, questions swirling in her mind: How did he know I was here? How did he find me?
She looked back at Androsen, who rose like a king.
As he was about to leave, he turned to her and said, "Take your medicine." Then he left.
The butler stood silently, bowing slightly as he watched Androsen leave.
Pilea sat on the bed, her fists clenched tightly and her eyes wary.
The butler noticed but said nothing.
Suddenly, Pilea stood up, her eyes pleading before she could speak.
The man understood.
"Please, may I go see him? Just once—I promise not to disturb Androsen."
The butler sighed, his face reluctant but agreeing. "There's a large curtain in the visiting room where your brother is. We'll hide there. Please, don't make a sound."
Pilea nodded eagerly. "I promise."
The butler hesitated, then led her out.
Pilea inhaled deeply, hoping nothing bad would happen to her brother—the only family she had left in this world.
---