Bound by lies, Trapped by Desire - Chapter 94: Chapter 94

Elena’s POV:
Malakai let out a short, almost sheepish laugh and shook his head. “No, she is coming. She’s just… running a little late.”
I frowned, rubbing gently at my temple as the dull throb pulsed behind my eyes. “How late?”
He hummed, scrolling on his phone. “Maybe fifteen or twenty minutes? Not long. If you don’t feel like waiting, she said it’s totally fine. We can just have our coffee and leave. Honestly, I’m sorry. I dragged you all the way here, and now we’re just sitting around awkwardly.”
I forced a small smile, shaking my head. “Please don’t apologize. Twenty minutes is nothing.” I tried to inject some brightness into my tone, but it felt thin, transparent. “Maybe I’ll actually be more awake after this coffee.”
I took a breath, then added—almost reflexively—“I should be the one apologizing, after the mess that happened at your gala afterall.”
Malakai burst into chuckles. Like a full-on, chest-shaking laugh. I blinked at him.
“That?” he asked. “That was nothing. Don’t apologize for that.”
I raised a brow, genuinely surprised. “Nothing? Sergei pulled a gun, Malakai.”
He shrugged. “Welcome to the world of the rich. There isn’t exactly a clear line between what’s legal and what’s acceptable. Guns are like... fashion accessories in our world. Fortunately, no one got shot this time.”
This time. The words made my blood chill slightly.
“You mean... people actually kill each other at these things?” I asked, my voice softer now.
His expression shifted. The smile disappeared. He leaned back slightly, his fingers tracing the rim of his porcelain cup. “Well... kill is a strong word. No one’s been murdered in broad daylight, if that’s what you’re asking. But people do get hurt. Guns are pulled. Threats are made. It’s part of the performance.”
Performance. That word. Like everything in this world was staged for entertainment.
He continued, nonchalant, “There was one guy—commoner, not on the guest list—got shot years ago. Security incident. But aside from that, it’s usually non-fatal fun.”
A chill ran down my spine. Non-fatal fun.
And then the word commoner echoed in my head, like a slap I hadn’t seen coming.
He’d said it so casually, like we were talking about insects. Like he didn’t realize what he was implying—or maybe he did and just didn’t care. A commoner. That guy who died was a commoner. So it didn’t really matter.
In that logic… wasn’t I a commoner too?
I swallowed the bitter taste rising in my throat and forced myself not to comment. Not right now.
The waitress returned with a notepad and tablet, smiling warmly at Malakai. He placed his order and added his sister’s usual with a casual fluency, and in a few moments, the server disappeared, leaving us in silence for a while till she returned with both our orders.
I sipped my coffee slowly. It was hot. Smooth. Strong. French-roasted and bitter, the kind of blend that coated your throat and demanded attention. The kick hit me instantly—caffeine and heat pulsing behind my eyes—and for a moment I thought it might help.
But then I took a bite of the croissant.
It was soft and buttery on the outside, but inside... warm mortadella, a tang of sharp cheese, and a swirl of herbs. My stomach clenched instantly, violently.
I froze mid-bite, trying to suppress the wave of nausea rolling through me.
Shit.
I was going to be sick.
I pushed back from the table so fast the chair legs scraped loudly against the floor. I slapped a hand over my mouth and muttered a strangled, “Sorry—excuse me—” before rushing past a startled server and toward the back hallway.
I heard Malakai call out, “Elena?” but I couldn’t stop. My legs barely cooperated. My vision blurred at the edges, and every step was a desperate sprint to not humiliate myself further.
I barely made it to the bathroom.
The door slammed open, and I collapsed in front of the first stall, retching hard into the toilet bowl. My stomach heaved again and again, even though there was hardly anything left inside. I gripped the edge of the porcelain, my knuckles white, forehead pressed to the cold metal partition as sharp pain twisted through my side.
It felt like something was tearing inside me. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally.
Tears leaked from my eyes as I coughed, spitting bile and shame into that toilet.
This wasn’t just nausea.
It felt like everything was falling apart. Again.
I flushed the toilet and just sat there for a moment, trying to catch my breath, trying to quiet the hum of panic buzzing inside my chest.
God. What had I become?
Dragging myself up, I stumbled to the sink. The girl staring back at me in the mirror looked like a ghost—gaunt face, pale lips, sunken eyes. I turned on the faucet and splashed cold water over my skin, trying to erase the past few minutes.
Didn’t work.
I removed my ponytail, letting my hair fall limp around my shoulders. The tightness in my scalp eased slightly. I ran my fingers through the strands, trying to finger-brush it back into something semi-decent. When that failed, I wrapped a scrunchie around a half-updo instead.
My hands were shaking by the time I was done. Weak. Aching.
I looked down at my hoodie, smoothing it carefully. No stains. I sniffed my sleeves—still fresh, thank God. The cold outside had helped with that.
I pushed the door open slowly and nearly collided with Malakai, who stood waiting just outside the restroom with a furrowed brow.
His expression softened when he saw me. “Are you alright?”
I plastered on a smile, though my insides were still in knots. “Yeah. Just an upset stomach. Sorry to surprise you.”
He shook his head. “You don’t need to apologize. You really don’t look well. Let’s leave, alright? I’ll take you to a doctor. Just to be safe.”
I hesitated.
He was right.
My entire body felt like a flickering warning sign. I should see a doctor. I shouldn’t be pretending like I was fine when clearly I wasn’t. The vomiting, the dizziness, the weakness. And the worst part?
The creeping fear in my gut that this wasn’t just food poisoning. That it wasn’t just exhaustion.
What if it was something else?
What if… it was my illness returning?
The thought made my skin crawl. I hadn’t told anyone how scared I was. I didn’t want to even acknowledge the possibility.
If stress was triggering it again…
If Nikolai, Sergei, Dmitri—all of them—had pushed me too far…
Damn it.
I closed my eyes for a second, then slowly opened them.
But even so…
Even if I agreed with everything he said—I couldn’t go with Malakai.
It didn’t feel right. I didn’t want to drag him further into my mess. I didn’t want more rumors. More confusion.
“It’s alright,” I said softly. “I’ll just take the bus.”
He raised a brow. “You want to take the bus? Elena, come on.”
“You should finish your food,” I added quickly, forcing another thin smile. “Wait for your sister.”
He didn’t return the smile.
Instead, he looked at me like I’d said something completely unhinged.
“I’m sorry, Elena,” he said slowly, voice tightening with concern, “but you don’t seem like you’re in the condition to ride a bus. Or even make it across the street, honestly.”
He paused, then softened.
“If you don’t want to go with me, that’s fine,” he added gently. “But let me call someone else. A friend. A family member. Just—someone.”
My heart jumped.