The door swung open, and a doctor stepped inside, flipping through the papers on his clipboard. He barely glanced up as he spoke.
"Who is the closest relative?" he asked.
Before I could answer, Jason's voice cut through the room.
"I'm her boyfriend," he said smoothly.
I nearly choked on air. Fake boyfriend, I wanted to correct, but I bit my tongue.
The doctor nodded, seemingly unfazed. "As I mentioned earlier, she's fine. She can be discharged today, but she needs plenty of rest."
Rhoda sighed in relief. "Oh, okay. That's great."
The doctor gave Jason a brief nod before exiting the room, leaving me alone with them.
Soon after, we were on our way back to Jason's house in his sleek, luxury car. The smooth ride barely registered as I leaned back, exhausted. The moment we arrived, I crawled into bed, sinking into the soft sheets, and let sleep claim me.
But as the days passed, a new dread settled over me. Thursday.
Mike's words echoed in my head: "You can take her to meet your grandpa on Thursday."
I felt my stomach churn at the thought. Jason's grandfather. The one rumored to be even colder and scarier than Jason himself. The one who would probably size me up in a single glance and find me… unworthy.
I groaned, pressing my pillow over my face. I couldn't just lay here, waiting for my doom. Day and night, I had been stuck in this room, forced to rest while my mind spiraled. I needed to get out, to breathe, to see Anna, to do something.
A knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts. Before I could answer, it creaked open, and Rhoda stepped inside, carrying a tray of food.
"Are you feeling better, Jessica?" she asked, walking over and placing the tray on the table beside me.
I sat up slowly, my gaze falling on the meal—grilled fish, rice, and a glass of warm milk.
Rhoda must've caught my hesitation because she leaned in and whispered, "Don't worry, Jason's not here."
I frowned. "Where did he go?"
"Work," she said with a small smile.
Relief washed over me. "Thank you, Rhoda."
"My pleasure," she said, winking. "Just don't forget to drink the milk."
I wrinkled my nose. "Ugh, milk?"
She laughed. "Doctor's orders."
I sighed dramatically but picked up the glass anyway.
"If you need anything else, just call me," she added. "For now, I'll get back to cleaning."
"Alright," I said, watching as she left.
As soon as the door shut behind her, I stared down at my meal.
Maybe if I pretended to still be sick… I could avoid Thursday altogether.
Even though Jason had strictly forbidden me from eating fish, I couldn't resist. I loved fish. And since he wasn't home, what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him.
I picked up my spoon, savoring the taste as I ate the fish Rhoda had brought. The rich flavor melted in my mouth, and I washed it down with a sip of warm milk.
Just as I was about to take another bite, I heard the distant rumble of a car pulling into the driveway.
I froze.
"It's probably just Rhoda cleaning," I muttered to myself, forcing another bite.
But then, her voice rang out—loud and nervous.
"Mr. Jason…"
My heart dropped.
I barely had time to react before his sharp voice cut through the house.
"Did you cook fish?" he barked.
Rhoda hesitated. "I just wanted to make Jessica happy."
"Did I order you to do that?" he snapped.
Panic surged through me. I knew Jason was controlling, but this? Over fish?
I dropped my spoon, shoved the plate away, and dove under the covers, squeezing my eyes shut. Maybe if I played dead, he'd leave me alone.
The argument outside continued, his voice growing louder. "Who's the boss here, huh?"
Then, silence.
I held my breath, hoping—praying—he'd let it go.
The next thing I heard was my door creaking open.
"Jessica!" Jason's voice boomed.
I jumped, my heart hammering against my ribs.
The blanket was ripped away from my face, and I cracked one eye open, peering up at him.
"Hiding?" he scoffed.
His gaze flicked to the plate of food on my nightstand. Without warning, he swiped it off the table. The plate clattered to the floor, the milk splashing across the hardwood, the glass shattering on impact.
I shot up from the bed, anger flaring in my chest.
"I knew I made a mistake signing that stupid contract and living with you!" I snapped.
Jason's eyes darkened. "Did I tell you to eat fish?" he demanded.
I stood my ground. "And who the hell are you to control what I eat?"
Before he could answer, I cut him off, already knowing what he was going to say.
"Let me guess—you're my boss, right?" I folded my arms. "Then fire me, Jason, because I refuse to work under someone who tries to control everything about my life!"
His jaw clenched. "You signed the contract, Jessica."
"And? I'm not stupid, I remember that." I glared at him. "But this is my stomach. I choose what I eat. What the hell is your problem?"
Jason inhaled sharply, eyes narrowing. "So I guess that means you're feeling better?"
I didn't like the smirk that curled on his lips.
"Great," he said. "That means we can go meet Grandpa."
I opened my mouth to argue, but the second I stepped forward, pain shot through my foot.
I gasped, looking down. Blood pooled around the shards of broken glass.
Jason's face shifted instantly.
"Rhoda!" he barked.
She rushed in, her eyes widening at the sight of my bleeding foot.
"Look what you've done!" Jason snapped at her.
I clenched my jaw. "This is my problem, not hers!" I shot back. "She didn't do anything!"
Jason's hands curled into fists at his sides, his expression unreadable.
I sat on my bed, my foot still stinging, while Rhoda quietly cleaned the mess on the floor. The broken glass, the spilled milk, and the strong scent of fish still lingered in the air, mixing with the tension that Jason had left behind. My heart was still racing, but I tried to act normal.
Jason came back, carrying a first-aid box, and placed it on the bed beside me without a word. His expression was unreadable, but I could tell he was still annoyed. He sat down next to me, his eyes locked on my injured foot.
"Your leg," he said, reaching for it.
I pulled back instinctively. "No, thanks. I can clean it myself," I said quickly.
He ignored me, grabbing my ankle gently but firmly. His fingers were cold, his touch careful but still holding that same authority he always had. I knew arguing wouldn't change anything, so I just clenched my jaw and let him do whatever he wanted.
When he pressed the alcohol-soaked cotton to my wound, I sucked in a sharp breath. "Ahh—be gentle, Boss," I muttered, glaring at him.
His hands paused for a second, and then he continued, slower this time. He didn't look up at me, just focused on wrapping my foot in a bandage, like he was fixing a broken object, not tending to a person.
Once he finished, he rested my foot back on the bed and finally looked at me. His gaze was unreadable, as if he was thinking a thousand things but saying none of them.
"Thank you," I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper.
Jason didn't reply. Instead, he stood up, adjusting his sleeves as if this whole situation had drained him.
"Get some rest," he said, turning toward the door.
I exhaled, thinking that was the end of it.
But then, just as he reached the door, he stopped. My body stiffened when I heard his voice again.
"Jessica," he said, his tone quiet but firm. "Don't make me come back here."
My stomach twisted. I stared at his back, my breath caught in my throat. What was that supposed to mean?
Before I could say anything, he walked out, closing the door behind him. The room felt colder, emptier.
I let out a slow breath, my fingers tightening around the bedsheet. I should've felt relieved that he was gone—but I didn't. Because I knew what was coming next.
Thursday. His grandpa.
And there was no way I could escape it.