The Truman Cage: My Husband Faked My World Chapter 02

The Truman Cage: My Husband Faked My World Chapter 02

Ethan went completely still, staring at me as if unable to process what I’d just said. I couldn’t read his expression at all.

I turned to Julian instead — he’d been Thorne Manor’s physician long enough that I thought he could make that call.

“I’ve been good. I ate the steak you cut for me.” I hesitated. “Could I… could I have something for the pain this time?”

Julian had gone white as a sheet and sat frozen, unable to speak. Leo was the one who finally broke the silence.

“Clara, what — no. That’s a good thing. You’re having a baby.”

“It’s not like that…” I shook my head. My voice was quiet, but certain. “You have it backwards. If it happens, it gets dealt with. That’s always been the rule.”

“This would be the fourth.”

Ethan’s face darkened. He shoved his chair back, ignoring the loud scrape of wood on the floor, and grabbed Julian by the collar.

“You. My office. Now.”

He dragged Julian into the study and threw the door shut behind them. The walls at Thorne Manor were thick, but even so, their voices bled through — low, indistinct, and unmistakably furious.

I looked at Leo blankly and pressed my lips together.

“Did I… do something wrong? Is the overseer going to come for me?”

Leo’s hand trembled around his fork. He sat there watching me, so careful and guarded that he looked like he might break first. Then he rose from his chair and moved behind my wheelchair, resting his hands on the handles.

“Clara. No one’s going to hurt you anymore.”

“You were always good to me.” I stared at my hands. “I miss the way you used to be. You’d smile at me, snap at me — let me call you Leo Miller to your face. You’d even flick my forehead.”

“Please don’t do this to me, Clara.”

But I only dropped my gaze, my voice shrinking to a whisper.

“I spoke out of turn. That was my fault.” I paused. “I won’t ask for painkillers again.”

Leo’s jaw tightened, and he said nothing more. He turned my wheelchair around and pushed me out of the dining room.

Vivian remained alone at the table. She hadn’t seen me in three years, and she’d rehearsed every cruelty planned.

But none of it had gone the way she wanted — she’d had to sit there and watch them all look at me like the sight of me was breaking them open.

In a burst of fury, she shoved her plate aside. She turned to the maid standing behind her.

“Go get Sunny. Now.” Her voice dropped flat and cold. “If that bitch really brings this brat to term, we’re finished.”

Leo pushed me to the guest bedroom on the ground floor. The room was enormous — too enormous — and so plush in every direction that it triggered my anxiety.

I ran my fingers over the quilt and looked up at Leo. “Is the storage room empty? I could sleep there instead.”

“This room is too good for me,” I added. “And there’s no clock. I need to be up before everyone else.”

I didn’t know what I’d said wrong this time. Leo’s eyes welled with tears.

He crouched down in front of my wheelchair, his voice barely above a whisper. “Clara, just stop. Please — just stop.”

“You’re not setting foot near that storage room. You’re family, Clara. I’ll take care of you this time.”

I didn’t believe him. Three years ago, when Leo had still been the overseer, he’d said something very much like it. That same night, the overseer had come to my room and beaten me until I could barely move.

I didn’t argue. I just nodded.

That seemed to satisfy him. He smiled, then arranged for two maids to help me wash up and settle in before he left.

Without a clock, I still had those strange numbers — counting down, just like always.

[35:48:21] [35:48:20] The numbers ticked down one second at a time. Every second was agonizing. I just wanted the end to come sooner. At three in the morning, the study door finally swung open. Both of them had marks on their faces — they’d clearly been fighting.

Ethan looked at Julian.

“I believe you. You wouldn’t do that to her.” He exhaled. “Not three times.”

“I’ll question everyone in this house. You find out who tampered with her prescriptions.”

Julian gave a short nod.

The kitchen light was still on. I was standing at the counter with a knife pressed to my chest, perfectly still.

“Don’t!”

Ethan crossed the kitchen in three strides and seized my wrist. Julian heard the shout and came running, wrestling the blade from my grip.

Ethan’s hold on my wrist tightened, and he stared at me, the facade finally cracking across his face.

“Clara, what the hell are you doing? Were you trying to kill yourself?”