A Widow's Poison, A Wife's Rebellion novel Chapter 153

Starla hung up, a strange feeling settling over her. So, Brinley's son wasn't just another ploy to win Fairfax's sympathy. His illness was real.

For dinner, the kitchen followed Fairfax's instructions, preparing a light meal for Starla along with a small bowl of clear broth. It was Molly, the maid from the now-destroyed Petal Villa, who brought the tray up. Fairfax had transferred her to the Luwood Mountain estate.

Starla took a spoonful of the broth and asked casually, "Where is he?" It was a rare moment of peace without him hovering over her.

Molly hesitated before answering, "Mr. Yelchin isn't feeling well."

Starla raised an eyebrow.

"Dr. Zion is with him now," Molly added.

Dr. Zion was the Yelchin family doctor. But Fairfax? Unwell? The man was built like a fortress; she'd never seen him sick a day in her life. The entire Yelchin household could be on their deathbeds, and he'd still be standing.

"What happened?" Starla asked, her curiosity piqued.

Molly's expression grew tense, and she seemed reluctant to speak.

"Well?" Starla prompted.

"I'm not sure, but after Mr. Yelchin came downstairs, he started vomiting uncontrollably," Molly explained nervously. "Dr. Zion came and… and now he's on an IV drip."

Starla froze. Vomiting? An IV drip? The image of Fairfax on an IV was almost comical.

Then it hit her. He had come downstairs right after being in her room… right after he drank that soup she refused to touch.

Could it be?

Yesterday, a bowl of soup sent her to the hospital. Today, another bowl put him on a drip.

Molly looked at her, bewildered. "Ma'am, what are you…?"

"A wife can't possibly eat when her husband is starving, can she?" Starla said with a smile. But the smile didn't reach her eyes, which held a glint that was anything but gentle or caring.

Before Molly could react, Starla swept out of the room with the bowl in her hand.

Fairfax's room was next to hers. She'd been so exhausted earlier that she'd slept through Zion's arrival. The door was ajar, and she saw him lying on the bed, looking pale and weak.

Fairfax stiffened when he saw her in the doorway.

"Why are you up?" he asked, his voice soft, almost tender. He'd always spoken to her that way, with a honeyed tone that could make any woman swoon.

But she had learned the hard way that tenderness meant nothing without protection.