The next morning, sunlight spilled through the curtains, warm and bright, filling the room with a gentle glow.
Charlotte blinked awake, still a little sleepy. She peeled the heating patch off her stomach and noticed right away how much better she felt. The pain had faded, and she actually looked healthy for once.
She tossed back the covers and padded across the soft, white carpet to her desk. Last night, she’d set up her laptop to record herself, determined to prove she could get through the night without any sleep aids, and that she wouldn’t do anything… weird.
But as soon as she played the recording, she just stared in shock.
The chair she’d wedged under her bedroom door? Still perfectly in place. On the video, she watched herself find another hidden door and wander out like she’d done it a million times. It was almost too smooth, like she’d practiced.
She always woke up in her own bed, which could only mean Anthony must have found her, realized something was off, waited until she fell asleep again, and then carried her back without waking her.
Back in the video, she saw Anthony lean over, gently cup her chin, and kiss her. The memory of it washed over her in a rush.
Her cheeks turned pink. She rested her head on her hand and mumbled, “He really is in amazing shape…”
In the living room, Anthony sat at the table, holding a slice of toast with a layer of jam. He was on his phone, his voice low and smooth.
“Yeah, somewhere quieter,” he said, his whole vibe so calm and collected it was impossible not to notice. “And pick up some of Charlotte’s favorite healthy snacks…”
He looked up as Charlotte came in. After a couple more quick instructions, he ended the call.
He stood and walked over to her, his gaze soft as he asked, “Did you sleep well last night?”
Charlotte just looked at him, then said, “You don’t look like you did.”


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