Chapter 9

Lily's POV

The room fell into stunned silence as I held up my swollen, angry red wrist for everyone to see.

The platinum bracelet had done its work—my skin was already peeling, and pain shot through my arm like fire.

But I maintained my sweet and dangerous smile.

Elizabeth's face turned pale, her earlier sense of triumph crumbling into something resembling panic.

She opened and closed her mouth like a gasping fish, clearly scrambling desperately for any explanation that might salvage her carefully orchestrated conspiracy.

"What am I admitting to?" she finally spoke, her voice higher than usual.

I laughed softly, the sound cutting through the tense atmosphere like a blade.

"It seems Mrs. Sterling needs some more compelling evidence."

I paused for a moment, letting the moment stretch, then delivered the final fatal blow.

"I'd like to ask you—why did you transfer two hundred thousand dollars to Olivia yesterday?"

The effect was immediate and devastating.

Both Elizabeth and Olivia froze, their faces losing color in perfect synchronization.

"You're talking nonsense!" Olivia stammered, her earlier confidence completely crumbling.

"I don't know what you're saying..."

"Really?" I interrupted her, pulling out my phone with my uninjured hand.

I opened the photo I had saved earlier and held it up for everyone to see.

"This is quite interesting banking information, don't you think?"

The screen displayed a clear image of a bank transfer receipt—Elizabeth Sterling's account had transferred exactly $200,000 to Olivia Johnson, dated yesterday afternoon.

Walter leaned forward to examine the image, his expression growing increasingly dark over time.

"I just checked," I continued casually, "the standard annual salary for household staff here is about thirty thousand dollars.

So I'm curious, Mrs. Sterling—why would you send Olivia more than six times her annual salary in a single day?"

"Got you," I thought with satisfaction. "I knew a simple maid wouldn't risk losing her job to frame me without significant compensation."

When I had asked for Olivia's name earlier, my first instinct was right. A brief message to Lucas was enough to trace this financial connection.

Technology is a wonderful thing when you know how to use it.

The silence in the room was deafening.

William's sharp gray-blue eyes moved between my phone screen and his mother's face, and I caught something new in his expression—not just surprise, but a calculating assessment.

"He's wondering how I got this information so quickly," I realized.

"Good. Let him wonder."

Thomas was the first to break the silence, whistling low under his breath.

"Wow, Mother, that's quite a generous bonus for the help."

Henry and Samuel exchanged meaningful glances, while Michael's jaw dropped open once again.

Even Tyler stood frozen near the doorway, clearly caught off guard by tonight's developments.

Elizabeth's voice trembled slightly.

"It's not what you think! Olivia's mother is seriously ill—I was advancing her salary to help with medical expenses. It was just a coincidence that the jewelry incident happened today."

I raised an eyebrow, impressed despite myself by her quick thinking.

"How charitable of you, Mrs. Sterling. How fortunate that Olivia happened to need exactly two hundred thousand dollars on the same day she decided to falsely accuse me of theft."

"Elizabeth," Walter said quietly, the disappointment in his tone more cutting than any shout could have been.

"When Olivia applied for this position three years ago, I conducted the interview personally. She told me she was an orphan—that both her parents had died when she was eighteen."

The final piece of Elizabeth's story crumbled to dust.

Olivia made a strangled sound, her face crumpling as she realized the web of lies had been completely exposed.

The woman who had seemed so confident while accusing me now looked like she wanted to disappear into the marble floor.

Walter turned to me, his expression filled with genuine regret and something that looked like paternal protection.

"Lily, I deeply apologize. This is unacceptable, and I will ensure you receive a proper apology and compensation for what you've endured."

His voice hardened as he continued. "This kind of behavior will not be tolerated in my home."

Then he looked at William.

"Take Lily to the hospital immediately. That allergic reaction needs urgent medical attention."

I nodded, grateful for the excuse to leave this increasingly uncomfortable family drama.

My wrist was throbbing now, and the red welts were beginning to spread up my arm.

As William and I headed toward the door, I caught Elizabeth's expression—a mixture of fury, humiliation, and what looked disturbingly like renewed determination.

"This isn't over," I thought. "She'll be back with something worse."

But that was a problem for another day.

The drive to the hospital was quiet at first.

Then, unexpectedly, William spoke.

"Sorry."

I turned to look at his profile, genuinely surprised. "For what?"

He kept his eyes on the road, but I could see the tension in his jaw. "For my mother's behavior. What she did..."

He paused, searching for words.

"Unforgivable."

"Interesting," I thought. "He's actually taking responsibility for his family's actions. That's more than I expected."

"It's not your fault," I said simply.

William's hands tightened slightly on the steering wheel. We sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes before I decided to tease him a little.

Partly because I was curious about his reaction, and partly because provoking William had become one of my favorite pastimes.

"You should be disappointed," I said casually, watching his reaction from the corner of my eye.

"If Elizabeth's little scheme had worked, I would have been out of your sight forever. No more country girl disrupting your perfectly ordered life."

I paused, then added with deliberate lightness, "Tell me something, William. Before the evidence was revealed tonight—did you think I had stolen the jewelry?"

William was quiet for so long I thought he might not answer.

When he finally spoke, his response surprised me.

"No," he said simply. "You're not that stupid."

I couldn't help but smile at his blunt assessment. "Such charming words."

"If you're not that stupid," I continued, my voice becoming more serious, "then what does that say about the person who designed this elaborate frame-up?"

William's silence lasted even longer this time, and I could almost see the gears turning in his head.

"Those cheap trinkets aren't worth my time," I added dismissively, looking out at the city lights streaming past the window.

"My taste is better than Tiffany & Co."

That comment seemed to render William completely speechless.

I glanced over to see him staring straight ahead, his expression unreadable but somehow more intense than usual.

"Is he trying to understand my thoughts?" I mused. "Good. Let him guess."

At the hospital, the emergency room doctor took one look at my swollen, angry red wrist and immediately began preparing treatment.

"Young lady," he said, shaking his head as he examined the damage, "you knew you were allergic to platinum and you still put this on? That was extremely reckless."

He looked disapprovingly at William.

"And you, as her boyfriend, should have taken better care of her. Though you're lucky—this could have been much worse. I'll prescribe some topical medication that should clear this up in a few days."

I bit back a laugh at the doctor's assumption about our relationship.

William's lips parted slightly, as if he was about to correct the misunderstanding, but then he seemed to think better of it.

His mouth closed again, and he said nothing.

"Too much trouble to explain to a stranger," I thought.

When the doctor left to prepare the prescription, William went to get the medication while I waited in the examination room.

The antiseptic smell and fluorescent lighting reminded me of the last time I'd been in a hospital—when my father was dying.

I quickly pushed that memory away.

William returned a few minutes later, carrying a small pharmacy bag. To my surprise, he sat down in the chair next to me and began carefully opening the medication tube.

"Give me your hand," he said quietly.

I extended my injured wrist, watching as he squeezed a small amount of cream onto his fingers. His touch was surprisingly gentle as he began applying the medication to the worst of the swelling.

"Does it hurt?" he asked, his voice softer than I'd ever heard it.

The cool cream stung as it touched the raw skin, sending sharp little jolts of pain up my arm.

But I found myself more focused on the careful way William was tending to my injury—the concentration on his face, the deliberate gentleness of his movements.

"This is unexpected," I thought, studying his expression. "Mr. Ice King actually has a tender side."

"William," I said, unable to resist the opportunity to tease him, "I never would have guessed that someone so cold and aloof could be this considerate. I think I'm starting to like you even more."

William's hand stilled for just a moment, and his face went carefully blank.

When he spoke, his voice had returned to its usual controlled tone.

"I told you before—I won't fall for you."

I rolled my eyes dramatically. "How boring."

"But not entirely convincing," I added silently, noting the slight flush that had crept up his neck.

William might think he was immune to attraction, but his body language suggested otherwise.

A man who says one thing but means another.

I stood up and headed for the door, deliberately letting my fingers brush against his shoulder as I passed.

"Thanks for the medical care, Dr. Sterling," I said with mock sweetness. "You still need more practice though~"

Behind me, I heard William's sharp intake of breath.

"Mission accomplished," I thought with satisfaction.

As I walked toward the hospital exit, I could feel William's eyes following me.

When he had been treating my injury, there had been something different in his expression—something that looked like concern.

"Keep telling yourself you don't care, William," I mused. "Let's see how long you can keep it up."