Chapter 270
Talia’s POV
For some reason, I dream about my time at the Nelson family.
Since leaving the Nelson family, I have almost never dreamed of its members. My mind has built walls around those memories, sealed them away in a box I never open. Despite spending more than three years in that house, I did not develop any sense of belonging during that time.
I felt no affection whatsoever for my so–called father and brothers. They were strangers who happened to share my blood. Nothing more.
At that time, when I heard my mother say that I had three older brothers and a biological father, I was excited. I was full of anticipation. I imagined family dinners and shared langhter. I imagined being welcomed home.
I also knew that I had a half–sister. Odette. The daughter of my father and the woman he truly loved.
I had considered that my half–sister would not like me. I had prepared myself for cold shoulders and cutting remarks. But to my surprise, on my very first day back at the Nelson family home, it was my three older brothers who gave me a hard time. 1/5
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They stood in the grand foyer like sentinels, their arms crossed, their faces hard. The servants had all scattered, leaving me alone with them.
My usually aloof and taciturn third brother, Harris, did not even wait for me to set down my bags. He looked at me with eyes like frozen steel, and the words came out flat and final.
“I only recognize Odette as my sister.”
Harris’s remarks were quickly met with a reprimand from my father and eldest brother. “Harris, that is enough!”
But even as he spoke, I saw the way my father glanced at Odette, the way his eyes softened.
My eldest brother, Xavier, stepped forward. “Talia, no matter what, Odette is our blood relative.” He paused, letting his words sink in. “Not some fake heiress-”
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The memory flickers, I can almost sense the words ‘like you‘ on his lips. But I was never the one who wanted to come there and become a part of their world.
“Tia, wake up…”
My eyelashes twitch at the voice, and the dream recedes like water draining from a basin. I slowly open my eyes.
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Chapter 270
What comes into view is a handsome face. Raymond’s features look sharp in the soft morning light, his dark hair slightly disheveled, his eyes warm with concern.
“Raymond…”
My voice comes out rough.
“You look like you had a rough nightmare.” He reaches out and feels my forehead, checking my temperature.
His palm is cool against my fevered skin. He lets out a relieved breath. “Your fever has subsided.”
He pours me a glass of water, the liquid catching the pale morning light.
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I am covered in sweat, my clothes clinging uncomfortably to my skin. My throat feels like it is on fire, dry and raw. I take the cup from Raymond and bring it to my lips. The water is cool and soothing.
“Thank you,” I say, my voice still rough.
I turn my head and discover that it is already light outside. The sun is rising over the city, casting long shadows through the hospital window.
Mr. Capaldi, did you stay in the hospital all night?”
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Chapter 270
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Raymond’s eyes are deep, unreadable. “Robin was worried about you.” He pauses. Last night, he kept saying he was worried and wanted to come over.”
He settles back into his chair, crossing his legs. “I happen to be on vacation recently and have nothing to do. So I will take care of you for him.”
After drinking the water, my voice does not hurt as much. I speak softly, the words coming easier now.
“Mr. Capaldi, thank you. Thank you for what happened last night too.”
Raymond waves a dismissive hand. “You have already said thank you many times yesterday.”
I pause for a moment, a faint flush creeping up my neck. “I am sorry. My head was foggy last night, so I do not remember very clearly.”
Raymond looks at me, his gaze steady. “Tia, you do not have to be so strong.” His voice is gentle, but there is steel beneath it. “Both Robin and I are willing to help you.”
He leans forward slightly. “You do not need to worry about owing us favors. We are not that distant yet.”
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He gazes into my eyes, his dark pupils like deep, dark pools, seemingly capable of sucking one’s soul into them. My breath hitches inexplicably. Something flickers in his expression, something I cannot name.
I subconsciously avoid the man’s gaze, looking down at the cup in my hands.
Just then, the door to the ward is pushed open.
“Mr. Capaldi, I brought you breakfast…”
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