Chapter 15

Tristan was momentarily stunned. His cold eyes flickered over Genevieve's face, but his expression remained unchanged. Harper was surprised. "Ah, so today is Genevieve's birthday too? Miriam, the rainbow spaghetti you gave me this morning weren't leftovers from her, were they?" "Of course not. I specially made them for you," Miriam quickly replied, showing no concern for Genevieve's feelings. Harper glanced at Genevieve's reddened eyes and gently said, "Miriam, you should make a bowl for Genevieve too. It's really sad not having a family member make you rainbow spaghetti on your birthday, right, Genevieve?" Miriam's expression flashed with discomfort. "Yes, yes. I'll make one for her later." Genevieve felt her heart sink, but she forced a smile. Rainbow spaghetti for her birthday, huh? She had never had any in her life. Genevieve didn't look at them anymore and turned to leave. Tristan watched her thin figure leave. His usual indifferent gaze was now filled with a hint of curiosity and complexity. Had he gone too far just now? He shook his head imperceptibly. Genevieve was full of schemes and lacked self-restraint. She didn't deserve sympathy. Heidi chased after Genevieve, fuming. "Genny, how could your mom do that? And is Tristan blind or something to like that disgusting Harper?" Genevieve smiled weakly. "It's nothing. Don't get too angry." Heidi was startled by her sudden pale complexion. "Genny, what's wrong? You look so bad. Are you feeling unwell?" Genevieve shook her head. "My stomach hurts a bit. I think I'll go rest." "Okay. Head back, and don't think too much about today." "Thanks. Don't be angry either." Once Genevieve returned to the Burtman residence, she wrapped herself in a thin blanket. She was cold, but her body felt strangely hot. Curled up, she stared at the leaves swaying in the wind outside the window. The sky was overcast, and another fall rain had begun. Her heart felt as cold and desolate as the weather, filled with endless sadness and sorrow. When Tristan returned in the evening, he glanced through the main house's windows and instinctively glanced toward the small villa. It was pitch black in the small villa, as if no one was there. He stopped a maid and casually asked, "Has that woman returned?" The maid paused before realizing who he meant. "She returned early, but she hasn't come out since." He didn't respond, and his mind replayed the events at the mall. For some reason, Genevieve's defiant yet aggrieved gaze kept appearing in his mind, making him feel uneasy. The maid looked at him and casually asked, "Mr. Burtman, dinner is being prepared. Is there anything specific you'd like to eat?" Tristan shook his head but remembered something and called out to the maid. "Noodles." "Noodles?" "Yeah, like… spaghetti." The maid was surprised. "Is it someone's birthday today?" He looked at the small villa and coldly said, "No." Genevieve felt miserable. Her consciousness was fading, but someone was incessantly knocking at the door. She struggled to get up. She opened the door and saw Tristan standing there with a cold face. "How dare you lock me out of my villa!" She felt dizzy and almost unable to stand. Her mood was awful, and she didn't even feel fear when looking at him. Instead, she was overwhelmed by frustration. "You can kick me out if you want. I don't care," she said in a hoarse voice. Her seemingly arrogant attitude immediately ignited his fury. His gaze turned cold, and he said harshly, "Don't think that just because my grandmother protects you, I won't touch you. And who gave you the courage to bully Harper? "Don't forget that this marriage and your current identity were taken from her. What right do you have to bully her!" Why was it Harper again? Miriam favored Harper, and even her so-called husband was constantly protecting Harper. But what had she done to owe Harper this much? Genevieve gave a disdainful and mocking smile instead of replying. Tristan narrowed his eyes. Had she gone mad? Genevieve was ill, and her heart was full of anger and grievance, all clamoring to be vented. She shouted at him without a care, "You think I want this ridiculous marriage, this hypocritical identity? If you're so capable, tear up that agreement, and we'll divorce immediately. "In the end, it's because you're too useless to get a divorce. You can't marry her, and now you're blaming me. All of you know how to blame and criticize me, someone who's done nothing wrong. The truth is, you're just weak and useless... Uh…" Before she could finish, a large hand suddenly clutched her neck. Her back hit the hard door with a sharp pain. Tristan glared at her, his eyes icy and deadly. "Do you know what you're saying?" His voice was like an enraged demon's as his hand tightened slowly. Genevieve struggled to breathe. While looking into the cold, murderous look in his eyes, she felt fear for the first time—the fear of death. "I care about my grandmother, but if I really wanted you gone, it wouldn't be hard." The fear she felt made her body shake uncontrollably. She probably really was delirious, forgetting that this man was Tristan, the feared demon of Jasfield. Her body slammed to the ground. He looked down at her with indifference. "Don't think too highly of yourself." After he left, Genevieve clutched her stomach, trembling as she curled up. She didn't want to stay in the Burtman residence. She didn't want the child inside her anymore. She didn't want to have any ties with that terrifying man. "My baby, I'm sorry!" she thought. Her child, an unexpected birth, would inevitably face a cruel fate. It would be better if it had never existed from the start. Genevieve cried, feeling full of bitterness for herself. "Mrs. Burtman Senior, Mrs. Burtman says she's not hungry and won't be coming to eat," a maid reported. Jennifer frowned, looking displeased at Tristan. Expressionless, Tristan tried some noodles from his bowl and told the maid, "Throw it away." Upon seeing his grim expression, the maid didn't dare say anything and silently took the noodles away. At night, he returned slightly drunk. He stared at the woman curled up on the floor. When Genevieve felt the pressure from his stare and the unease, she groggily opened her eyes. Tristan then stood up indifferently and headed for the bathroom. Genevieve felt terrible; her whole body was cold, and her stomach was cramping. She thought she saw Tristan, but she slipped back into a deep sleep before she could process it. After finishing his bath, he hadn't been in bed long when she began complaining about the cold. Her voice annoyed him. "If you keep making noise, I'll throw you out into the cold," he warned coldly. But Genevieve, as if she hadn't heard him, kept whining about being cold. Tristan turned on the bedside lamp, but when he saw her furrowed brow and the pain on her face, his cold warning vanished. He stood up and shouted at her, "Wake up!" She didn't respond, only curling up more. She was clearly in distress. He crouched down, reluctantly reaching out to feel her forehead. It was warm, but she kept muttering about being cold. She must have been sick with a fever, but it wasn't anything serious. Still, with all her noise, he couldn't sleep all night. He stood up indifferently, started walking out, and paused at the door. After thinking of how Jennifer protected her like a child, he turned back. He glared at her, and after a mental struggle, he picked her up along with the thin blanket and placed her back on the bed. However, the blanket suddenly slipped, causing him to trip. Instantly, he fell onto the bed, taking her down with him.