Bound to my Enemy-Chapter 56.

I wake up slowly my body sore and tired. Every movement hurts, My throat aches first, a dull soreness that makes me swallow carefully... I guess Zane chocked my harder than I thought he did. My shoulders follow, then my back, then the faint sting in my palm where my skin still remembers the impact. I stare at the ceiling for a long moment, breathing shallow, taking inventory.

That has to be enough for now.

There’s a knock on the door.

I close my eyes for a second groaning silently, then say, "Come in."

The door opens slowly. A woman steps inside, hovering just past the threshold like she’s not sure how welcome she is. She’s way younger than Margaret, maybe mid-twenties, hair pulled back neatly, hands folded in front of her apron. Her eyes flick to my face, then away again.

"I’m sorry to disturb you," she says. "I didn’t want to come in unannounced, but I was told....."

She stops herself, straightens. "My name is Lora."

I nod once, my throat feels dry. "Elaine."

Her mouth curves into a small, relieved smile. "I know you, we all do. I didn’t meet you properly yesterday. I was off-duty during the introductions."

That explains it. Margaret had paraded half the staff past me, all warm smiles and curious glances. I remember thinking I’d never keep the names straight.

Lora clears her throat. "I’ve been assigned to you. Your husband asked that I attend to your needs while you’re here."

Oh.

"Assigned," I repeat lightly.

She winces. "I know how that sounds. I’m here if you need anything, anything at all. Clothes, food, teac, a bath drawn. Anything just name it Ms whitmore."

I sit up carefully, swinging my legs over the side of the bed inch by inch. The mattress dips and complains. I don’t give anyone the satisfaction of seeing me wince

"Just Elaine, Lora ," I say. "All this formality is giving me a headache."

My teeth grind together before I can stop myself.

I look away, toward the window, because if I don’t, I’ll say something unfair. Lora is just standing where she’s been told to stand. Doing what she’s been told to do.

She shifts her weight. "Would you like help getting ready this morning?. Can I draw you a bath? Mrs whitm... sorry Elaine."

I blink, pulled back into the room. "No, you may not."

Her face falls instantly..., a small, quiet drop of disappointment that makes guilt bloom hot in my chest.

"I didn’t mean it like that," I say quickly. "It’s fine. I can do it myself so don’t bother yourself ."

What I don’t say is that I need to be alone. That the waiting is the worst part. That once I’m moving, once the day has started, I can pretend I’m steady again.

"Of course," she says. "I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed."

"You didn’t," I reply. "Really. I just... I need a minute."

She nods, steps backward toward the door. "I’ll be back in the afternoon. If there’s anything you need in the meantime.....

"I doubt I will."

The words come out flat. The only thing I want is not something she can bring me.

She offers a small smile anyway, the kind people give when they don’t know what else to sy, and then she’s gone.

The door closing softly behind her.

I sit there for a moment longer, then stand. My legs hold. Good.

The shower helps. Warm water loosens the tightness in my shoulders, stings my neck just enough to remind me it’s real, that last night wasn’t something I imagined. I wash my hair slowly, methodically, grounding myself in the motions. Soap. Rinse. Repeat.

I dress in something simple. Soft trousers. A long-sleeved top. Nothing too much or too showy. Nothing that asks too much of me. I leave my hair down because I don’t have the energy to fight with it getting it into a bun this morning.

By the time I make my way downstairs, the house is full.

The dining room smells like coffee and buttered toast. Sunlight spills across the table, catching on polished wood .

I take a seat anyway

Margaret appears a moment later, nodding warmly, and sets a cup of tea in front of me without asking. I wrap my hands around it, grateful for the heat. 𝕗𝗿𝕖𝐞𝐰𝗲𝕓𝐧𝕠𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝐨𝚖

Zane isn’t there.

I don’t know whether that’s a relief or.....

Breakfast passes quietly. Staff move in and out with practiced ease, never lingering, never intruding or talking which I’m grateful because I’m not feeling resllly chatty now.. I eat because I know I should.

By the time I finish, the silence has settled into something familiar.

This is what the cold war looks like, I think. No shouting. No apologies. Just space filled with things we refuse to say.

I straighten in my chair, lift my chin, and sip the last of my tea

Zane comes down after I’ve already finished my tea.

I don’t hear him at first. I feel the shift in the room before I see him.

He looks exactly as he always does. Crispy and put together . If someone didn’t know better, they’d think yesterday never happened.

He takes his seat across from me without looking my way.

"Good morning," Margaret says, warm and maternal , as she sets his plate down.

"Morning," he replies.

His voice is normal, It makes my jaw tighten.

Margaret turns back to the sideboard, reaches for the coffee pot, then pauses.

I see it happen in stages.

Her eyes lift, meaning to check if I need anything else. They catch on my face first. Then my neck.

She freezes.

. Not enough that anyone else would notice unless they were watching her the way I am. Her hand stills mid-air.

I don’t move or try to cover myself.

The marks are there. I know they are. I felt them when the water hit my skin this morning, when my fingers brushed over the tender spots I didn’t want to think about. I chose this outfit because it was comfortable, not because it hid anything. Long sleeves don’t matter when the evidence is higher.