Obedience No More He's the One I Deserved novel Chapter 308

**Beseeched 308**

To Dawn, the villa loomed like an impenetrable fortress, its walls thick with secrets and shadows. Yet for Micah, it was merely a familiar playground; he felt as free as a bird, able to flit in and out at will, as if he owned the place.

He placed the wine bottle on the counter, its glass cool and inviting against his fingertips, and leaned back, adopting a posture that exuded a blend of relaxation and casual indifference.

“Look at you,” he remarked, a teasing lilt in his voice.

Oh, please. As if I would ever take his words at face value.

Dawn’s expression remained frosty, but Micah found amusement in her demeanor. A laugh escaped him, bright and youthful, his eyes sparkling with that familiar, mischievous glint only a teenager could possess.

“I mean it,” he insisted, the laughter lingering in his tone. “Didn’t Andy swing by to see you yesterday? What was the gossip between you two?”

“Why don’t you just ask him?” she shot back, her voice clipped.

“He won’t spill the beans to me,” he replied, a hint of frustration creeping into his tone.

Silence enveloped them, thick and palpable.

So what? What does that have to do with me?

Dawn often felt that she and Micah were destined to clash, their interactions a volatile spark waiting to ignite. It took only a couple of exchanges before one of them felt the urge to strangle the other.

A wave of irritation surged within her. She spoke with an edge of ice. “If there’s nothing significant to discuss, then just leave. If anyone sees you here, I’ll be the one who pays for it.”

“Dawn,” Micah said, feigning surprise, “don’t you ever get tired of being cooped up in this house all day long?”

He surveyed the space around them, his expression reminiscent of a prisoner assessing his confinement. He clicked his tongue in disapproval, shaking his head. “If it were me, I’d go stir-crazy in less than a day.”

“Then why don’t you go jump off something high?” she retorted, deliberately ignoring his prattle.

Dawn’s brow furrowed in irritation. “What do you actually want from me?” she demanded, her patience wearing thin.

Micah paused, momentarily taken aback, as if her question had caught him off guard. Finally, he mumbled, “Nothing. It’s just that… yesterday, my brother came home and suddenly told me I should treat you better. I mean, I wasn’t terrible before, was I? But I guess I could step it up a notch.”

Clearing his throat, he continued, “Do you want anything? Snacks? Games? Just say the word, and I’ll bring it next time.”

Dawn stared at him, her expression blank, as if she were trying to decipher a riddle.

“Is something wrong with you?” she finally asked, incredulity lacing her words.

Micah’s playful grin faltered, and he rummaged through his bag, producing a piece of paper and a pen—clearly something he had prepared in advance. “I’m in a good mood today, so I won’t argue with you. If you need anything, just call me. You’re smart enough to figure out how to use a phone, right?”

Dawn remained unmoved, her expression unreadable. Micah leaned closer and slipped a small note into her jacket pocket, his fingers brushing against the fabric.

“I’m out,” he declared, pulling his headphones up and letting them rest around his neck, his demeanor effortlessly cool.

She watched him saunter away, circling the garden before he braced his hands against the wall. With a fluid motion, he leaped over it, disappearing in an instant.

In a heartbeat, he was outside the villa.

She couldn’t deny it; he had chosen the perfect spot to escape.

Right in the blind spot of the cameras.

Dawn retrieved the note from her pocket, her fingers brushing against the crumpled paper. The handwriting was uneven and far from elegant, just a jumble of numbers, yet it stirred something within her that she couldn’t quite articulate.

What on earth is Micah thinking?

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