Chapter 123

The contract was handwritten, in strokes defiant and sharp–clear signs that the girl who penned itwasn’t in the best of moods.

Everard’s initial thought was that the kid had pretty good handwriting, not too delicate, but with acertain firmness to it. Then he focused on the content.

1. Hold hands once a day. If I don’t initiate, you keep your hands to yourself. 2. One kiss per week, on my terms. Other than that, don’t even think about it or dream about it. 3. No inviting yourself over to my place for dinner. 4. Don’t call me unless it’s absolutely necessary! 5. TBD. Will add more rules as I think of them.

Everard raised an eyebrow. Holding hands was already a daily routine; the kissing frequencyseemed a bit low–surely exceptions could be made. As for dinner, a nod from her dad would sortthat out, and for phone calls, “necessary” could be quite subjective.

As he mentally critiqued each rule, he looked up to see the girl staring at him seriously, her dewyeyes filled with solemnity, like a cat on the verge of a hissy fit, ready to pounce at any hint ofbargaining.

He chuckled softly and answered, “Fine by me.”

Her tension eased at his agreement, and she picked up the breakfast she’d prepared and set it onthe counter.

Everard, feeling proactive, took it and arranged the spread on the dining table.

Cordelia ate with grave seriousness and held his hand with even greater solemnity, making him toowary to tease her. A few minutes later, she released his hand and asked with a deadpanexpression, “Is your shirt made of synthetic fabric?”

Everard was bemused. “I guess so, why?”

Who pays that much attention to their clothing material?

Her relief was palpable. Synthetic fabric could cause static when rubbing against skin, whichexplained the tingling sensation during their hand–holding. She advised seriously, “You might findcotton more… comfortable.”

“Right,” Everard replied, finding the conversation odd but knowing that the girl often had her ownunique logic, which she seldom shared.

m off to school.”

Without further explanation, she grabbed her backpack and headed out, saying. I’m As she ambled toward the school gates, she noticed Yates with his fiery red hair bent over hisphone, and Flame No.1 engrossed in what seemed to be a language arts textbook. Something feltoff.

Cordelia followed them curiously.

Yates, noticing her, put away his phone. “I hired a martial arts instructor yesterday,” he announcedwith a lift of his chin.

Cordelia was puzzled.

Yates cleared his throat. “Give me some time to train, and then I’ll be ready to challenge youagain.”

Cordelia offered a noncommittal “I guess good luck?”

Yates felt her encouragement lacked sincerity and suddenly kicked Flame No. 1, who was stillpretending to study: “Watch where you’re going!”

Flame No. 1, indignant, opened the textbook to reveal a comic book hidden inside. “Lia, do you readthis?”

Cordelia was stunned. “I thought it was an actual textbook.”

Flame No.1 laughed. “See, I can read during class, and the teacher thinks I’m studying.”

Cordelia felt enlightened.

Later, at school, Merry was sobbing over a math book, mistaking it for a tragic novel, while LittleParrot dabbed at her tears. Cordelia returned to her thoughts of Everard, wondering if he too usedbooks as a facade, and what secrets his reading might hide.

After school, Cordelia returned home to the Delaney residence. A white Mercedes in the drivewaysignaled Louie’s visit.

Inside, Mathilda and Lorna chatted on the couch while her grandfather’s therapy session took placebehind closed doors. Cordelia joined them, discussing the artwork she had chosen, and the paintingLorna had failed to sell–a matter of little consequence to Mathilda, who valued the nobility of artover commerce.

When Louie emerged, indicating Lacy was finally sleeping, he prescribed some sleep medicationand promised more frequent visits.

As they stood in the yard under a dimming sky, Cordelia looked up at Louie, still the picture ofelegance in his white attire, unchanged from two years ago.

Cordelia spoke in hushed tones, detailing how she came to know Everard, including the bizarrecurse “love or die” that threatened her with death if she didn’t fall in love. After her tale, she lookedat Louie with a mix of hope and skepticism. “Louie, I know this sounds crazy and hard to believe…”

She was interrupted by Louie’s stern yet reassuring voice. “I believe you, Cordelia.”

A warm feeling washed over her, since the ordeal began, she had been lost in a haze of confusion.Now, it was as if she had glimpsed the first rays of dawn. “You believe me?”

Louie chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. “I’ve seen something like it before.”

Cordelia leaned in, her voice urgent. “So, what is it? Am I cursed or poisoned?”

Louie shook his head again. “Neither.”

Cordelia’s eyes were wide with anticipation. “Then what is it?”