When Love Becomes a Cage (Melanie)



During my recovery, it felt like the whole office decided to drop by. Some were genuinely concerned about my health, others just wanted to show their face, and then there were the gossip mongers, hungry for some juicy details.

Eventually, Warren had enough. With a stern look that could freeze fire, he shooed everyone away.

"Listen up! The patient's in a fragile state. If any of you stress her out to the point of no return, don't think the hospital's taking the blame. Who's ready for a jail tour?" His words were like a cold shower, effectively scattering those who were only there for the gossip.

I couldn't help but give him a look. "Really? Wishing me dead now, are you?"

"Would you rather be stressed to death?" He shot back, rolling his eyes before storming out of the room.

With the room now to myself, I found some peace, though the outside world still crept in through the news on my phone.

Clyde was topping the charts as the ultimate jerk.

Even though Rachel went to the press with a video of Clyde denying his own child, it barely caused a ripple.

He's a known liar, who would believe anything he says?

And then there was me, somehow looking pitiful yet photogenic in a shot taken during that press conference, lying on the ground. The image was strangely aesthetic. People said I looked "shattered," but little did they know, I had been in pieces for a while.

Sympathy was the general sentiment online, with very few defending Clyde.

On occasion, someone would pity Clyde for marrying someone he didn't love, only to be quickly silenced by the masses.Text © 2024 NôvelDrama.Org.

The tide of public opinion was in my favor, but was I really the underdog here?

Clyde's reputation took another hit

when, on the third day of my hospital stay, he was spotted spoiling Rachel in a luxury store, dropping over a million bucks like it was nothing. Rachel's smile couldn't have been wider, and even the sales staff and the paparazzi were thrilled.

Especially when a store employee, interviewed anonymously, confirmed Clyde's infidelity.

"He used to come here with his

'secretary,' the one who got shot by the cops for kidnapping his wife. Every visit, he'd drop tens of

thousands without a second

thought. And to think his wife, el

couldn't even afford her medical bills," the employee dished, disgust evident even through the voice distortion.

But what really sank my heart was seeing Clyde buy Rachel's favorites from a brand I adored. Despite her previous disdain for its "unchanging" styles there she was, choosing exactly what I would have picked out.

Clyde, clueless, even selected two bags in white - Rachel's least favorite color to maintain but my go-to for its versatility and brightness.

I turned off my phone, feeling irritated.

Rachel was copying me, from her clothes to her preferences, only her personality was a stark contrast. Yet, Clyde seemed blind to the differences.

A thought flashed through my mind, compelling me to leave my room and find Warren, who was still buried in work.

"Did the Grim Reaper drop by for a visit?" I joked, noticing how worn out he looked from too much coffee. He grimaced. "What now?"

I hesitated for a moment before asking, "Is it actually possible to hypnotize someone? Like they do in the movies?"