Bound to my Enemy novel Chapter 210

Chapter 210: Chapter 210.

He watches me for a second longer then shakes his head slightly like he’s done with this.

"Eat your food, Elaine," he says, picking up his fork again. "It’s getting cold."

And just like that...He shuts it down, like none of this happened, like he didn’t just crack something open between us.

I stare at him.

At how easily he retreats back into that controlled, distant version of himself and something in me twists.

Because I don’t know what’s worse,..The version of him that hurts me openly Or this one...that pretends not to.

——

By the time I get back to my room, the house is quiet, the kind of quiet that presses in on you, makes everything in your head louder than it should be.

I shut the door behind me and lean against it for a second Just... breathing.

Dinner sits heavy in my stomach, untouched tension curling tighter the more I replay it.

Zane’s voice.

You came back... but not for me.

I squeeze my eyes shut.

No. Not that.

Because there’s something else, Something that’s been sitting at the back of my mind since earlier, scratching and scratching, refusing to let me rest

Mia.

I push off the door and walk toward my bed, grabbing my phone from the nightstand. My fingers hover over her number for a second.

It’s late but I don’t care, I need answers.

I hit call and It rings.

Once.Twice.Three times.....

"Hello?" her voice comes through, groggy, confused.

"Mia."

There’s a pause.

Then.....

"Madam?"

The way her voice shifts....alert, nervous....it makes something in my chest tighten.

"Elaine?" she says again, softer this time, like she’s not sure if it’s really me.

"Yeah."

Another pause....then everything comes rushing out of her.

"Madam I’m so sorry.....I am so, so sorry.....please forgive me, I didn’t know what I was doing, my son....."

"Mia."

My voice cuts through her rambling and she goes quiet immediately.

I exhale slowly, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"I didn’t call for that," I say quietly.

"But madam I...."

"Mia."

Softer this time.

She stops again and I press my fingers to my temple, trying to steady my thoughts.

"I need you to answer something for me," I say.

"O-okay," she replies quickly. "Anything."

I swallow.

"When you were meeting the person..." I start slowly, choosing my words carefully, "the one who was giving you the poison..."

Even saying it still feels unreal.

"...did you ever see his face?"

There’s silence on the other end, longer this time.

Then....

"No, madam."

My grip on the phone tightens slightly.

"Never?"

"Never," she repeats. "He... he made sure of that."

I nod slowly, even though she can’t see me.

"How?"

"He always came covered," she says. "Face... cap... sometimes even a mask. I couldn’t see anything clearly."

A small knot forms in my chest.

"Then how did you know it was..." I hesitate for just a second before finishing it, "....Zane?"

Another pause.

"He told me," she says quietly.

"What?"

"He told me his name was Zane," she continues, her voice trembling slightly now. "He made sure I knew. Every time we spoke... he would remind me."

That doesn’t sit right.At all.

"Remind you?" I repeat.

"Yes, madam," she says quickly. "He said I should never forget who I was working for. That I should remember the name."

Something cold settles in my stomach and I star ahead, my mind starting to piece things together.....or trying to.

"Did you ever... question it?" I ask.

"I did," she admits quietly. "At first. But he... he sounded convincing. And I was desperate, madam. I didn’t think too much. I just...."

"I know," I cut in gently.

She goes quiet again.

I take a breath.

"There’s something else," I say.

"Yes?"

"When you finally saw Zane... my husband... in person," I continue slowly, "did anything feel off?"

This time, she doesn’t answer immediately and that makes my heart start to beat faster

"Mia?"

"I..." she hesitates.

"Say it."

Her voice drops, almost like she’s afraid of what she’s about to say

"I was surprised."

"How?"

She exhales shakily.

"He was taller," she says. "Much taller."

I sit up straighter.

"What do you mean?"

"The man I was meeting..." she continues, her words coming more carefully now, like she’s thinking through them properly for the first time, "he wasn’t that tall. Not at all."

My fingers curl tighter around the phone.

"Shorter?" I ask.

"Yes."

"How much shorter?"

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify