Chapter 2 An Angel Or The Villain

Mirabel's POV

I stepped back instinctively, fear gripping me, but my back hit the dressing mirror. I lost my balance, my body tilting dangerously. Before I could fall, he moved quickly, his strong hands wrapping around my waist to steady me.

What is he doing? I expected him to yell at me, maybe even slap me in return for what I had done. But instead, he was holding me-keeping me from getting hurt.

Our eyes met. His dark gaze bore into mine, and for a fleeting moment, I thought I saw something there-worry, maybe even care. But that couldn't be possible. I must be imagining it.

Regaining my footing, I pushed him away. He didn't fight back. He simply stood there, staring at me in silence.

"You need to eat," he finally said. "If you want to fight me, you'll need your strength. And don't hurt yourself."

With that, he turned and walked out.

I scoffed. Is he crazy? After everything, he was worried about me hurting myself?

Shaking my head, I turned to the mirror and stared at my reflection. My face was pale, my eyes dull.

Will I ever be happy again? The thought lingered in my mind as I tried to remember the last time I truly smiled.

I was still lost in thought when the door opened, and two maids stepped inside. They approached me carefully, as if afraid I might lash out. Before I could protest, they gently guided me toward the bathroom and started preparing my bathwater.

"Please take your bath now, Mrs. Black," one of them said hesitantly. "Mr. Black is waiting for you."

Mrs. Black. The title made my stomach churn.

I looked at the maids and noticed the nervousness in their eyes. Did he threaten them? Was their job at risk if they failed to bring me downstairs?

I sighed and gave them a small nod. They looked relieved as they quickly left the bathroom, closing the door behind them.

Alone in the silence, I stood still for a moment, trying to process everything. Why is he doing this? What does he want from me now?

After a while, I stepped into the warm water, letting it soothe my tense body. I scrubbed myself as if I could wash away the nightmare that had become my life. But no matter how hard I tried, the pain still clung to me.

Once I was done, I wrapped myself in a towel and stepped out. The maids were still waiting in the room, and they had prepared everything-my clothes, skincare products, and fragrances.

I stood there, staring at the luxurious items on the table, feeling lost. Why is he doing all this?

One of the maids stepped forward and led me to the dressing mirror. "Let us help you get ready, Mrs. Black," she said softly.

I didn't resist as they dressed me, applying creams and fixing my hair. By the time they were done, I barely recognized myself. The girl in the mirror didn't look like the broken, miserable person I felt inside.

She looked... different. Almost like she belonged in this world.

"We're done, Mrs. Black," one of them said, stepping back.

"The master is waiting. We will escort you to the dining room now."

I took a deep breath, steeling myself for whatever was coming next. "Okay," I said, standing up.

Even as I followed them out, one thought refused to leave my mind-what does Asher Black really want from me?

The maids led me down the grand hallway, their footsteps light against the marble floor. The entire house felt too big, too luxurious-so different from the small, suffocating place I had called home all my life.

As we reached the dining area, my stomach tightened. I wasn't hungry, but I knew refusing again wouldn't be wise.

The long dining table was set elegantly, food arranged neatly as if this were some grand banquet. And there he was-Asher Black-sitting at the head of the table, his presence commanding. His sharp eyes lifted the moment I walked in, scanning me from head to toe. I looked away instantly, refusing to meet his gaze.

One of the maids pulled out a chair for me, and I hesitated before finally sitting down, my hands clenching in my lap.

"You look better," Asher remarked, his deep voice breaking the silence.

I didn't respond.

"Eat," he said simply, picking up his glass of wine.

I stared at the plate in front of me, my appetite nonexistent. After a long moment, I picked up my fork and took a small bite, just to avoid another argument.

"You're acting like a prisoner," he muttered, setting his glass down. "If you're going to be my wife, at least start behaving like one."

His words made my grip on the fork tighten. His wife? I was nothing more than a contract to him, a deal forced upon me. He had no right to speak as if I had chosen this life.

"You forced me into this," I said quietly, my voice shaking with controlled anger.

"You signed the contract," he replied, as if that excused everything.

I lifted my eyes to his, my heart pounding. "You left me no choice."

Silence. His gaze darkened, but I refused to look away.

"You think I enjoy this arrangement?" he asked, leaning forward slightly. "You think I wanted to marry a woman who despises me?"

I swallowed hard, my fingers curling into fists under the table.

"You ruined my life," I whispered, barely able to get the words out. "And now you expect me to just... accept this?"

Asher exhaled slowly, his expression unreadable. "I don't expect you to accept it, Mirabel. I expect you to survive it."

His words sent a chill down my spine.

I dropped my fork onto the plate, the clattering sound echoing through the silent dining room. My chest tightened with frustration, anger, and helplessness. I couldn't take this anymore.

"I'm done," I muttered, standing up abruptly.

"Sit," Asher commanded, his voice firm.

I glared at him, my hands trembling with rage. I grabbed the glass of water from the table and took a sip, hoping it would cool the fire burning inside me. But it didn't. The anger only grew stronger, clawing at my chest, screaming to be let out.

Before I knew what I was doing, I gripped the glass tighter-until it shattered in my hand.

Sharp pain shot through my palm as blood dripped onto the table. The maids gasped, but before anyone could react, Asher was already by my side.

"Are you crazy?" he snapped, grabbing my bleeding hand. His touch was gentle, but his grip was firm as he pulled me down into a chair.

Tears welled in my eyes, and this time, I couldn't stop them from falling. "Yes," I choked out. "I will keep hurting myself until you let me go."

His jaw clenched. "Why don't you understand that I'm trying to protect you?"

I looked up at him, confusion flickering in my gaze. Protect me?

"Asher, how exactly are you saving me?" I asked bitterly.

"Do you think I just made this decision for no reason?" he shot back. "I had to do this because of the media, because of the world out there. I didn't want to be the reason someone's life was destroyed."

I stared at him, trying to process his words. Was he truly saying he did this for me?

The maids returned with a first aid kit, but Asher dismissed them with a wave of his hand. Without another word, he carefully took my injured hand and started cleaning the wound. His touch was gentle, the warmth of his fingers sending an unfamiliar feeling through me.

"I never planned for what happened that night," he said after a moment, his voice softer now. "I never meant to hurt you, Mirabel."

I swallowed hard, watching him work.

"I was drunk," he continued, his tone laced with something I couldn't quite decipher-regret? Guilt? "I was reckless... and I made a terrible mistake."

I wanted to argue, to tell him that no excuse would ever erase what he did. But for the first time, I saw something in his eyes-something real. Was it remorse? Or was he just trying to manipulate me?

After bandaging my hand, he slowly looked up, his dark eyes meeting mine.

"I hope one day you can forgive me," he said quietly. "I don't expect it now... but I want us to work things out."

Tears rolled down my cheeks, and before I could wipe them away, he did it for me. His fingers were surprisingly gentle against my skin.

"I don't want to see you cry," he murmured. "It hurts me."

My breath caught in my throat.

For years, I had lived without love, without care. No one had ever wiped my tears before. No one had ever said they didn't want to see me in pain.

And now here he was-Asher Black, the man I hated most-showing me kindness.

Was it real? Or was this just another illusion?