Chapter 344: Meeting Amber Again

If this had happened before, I would’ve sworn Yael was being a creep.But after spending time with him, I understood his strange corners better. When he said "love," he didn’t mean romance the way other men did. It sounded more like hunger for warmth. Like someone asking to be chosen, even for a second.

For the sake of my plan, I nodded.

"Elena," he whispered, eyes wide. "You’re so kind."

His face lit up instantly, bright and startled, like a child seeing fireworks for the first time on a pitch-black night.

We sat like that for a while, the valley quiet around us. The air was cold enough to sting, but his body heat pressed close, steady and heavy.

Then I typed on my phone: I’m tired. I want to rest now.

Only then did he loosen his hold.

My legs had gone numb. When I stood, my knees buckled and I almost fell.

Yael reached out fast and steadied me. "Elena, be careful."

He paused, then squatted in front of me like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Elena," he said, "hop on. I’ll carry you."

I shook my head.

He didn’t move. He didn’t argue either. He just stayed there, stubborn and quiet, like he could wait all night.

I didn’t want to trigger that sharp side of him, the one that hid under his sweetness. So I climbed onto his back.

He adjusted my position gently. "Hold on to me," he said. "Don’t fall."

Even knowing he wasn’t trying anything, it still felt awkward. He was an adult man, and my hands didn’t know where to go.

In the end, I settled for lightly holding his shoulders.

He carried me back to my room, placed me on the bed with care, then walked to the door.

I heard the lock click.

My heartbeat jumped.

I stared at him, all my instincts screaming at me to stay alert.

Yael turned back with a serious face. "Elena... can we sleep together tonight?"

His eyes held hope, not threat. But hope can be dangerous too, because it turns into anger when it’s denied.

I didn’t answer.

He swallowed, then spoke again like he was bargaining with a child. "Then... how about I give you the antidote?"

My hand shot out.

"The antidote," I said, forcing the words out rough and urgent.

He pulled out a pill, identical to the one he’d given me before, and placed it in my palm.

I swallowed it quickly.

A moment later, my throat loosened. My voice returned like a door unlocking.

Relief hit me so hard my eyes stung.

"I want to wash up," I said immediately.

Yael’s face brightened. "Elena, can I help scrub your back?" His eyes sparkled with excited innocence, like he was asking to help with homework.

I flicked his forehead. "No. There are boundaries between men and women."

He pouted, then said something that made my skin crawl. He started talking like a boy with no filter, describing my body in a way he shouldn’t.

I slapped my hand over his mouth. "Stop talking."

His eyes looked genuinely wounded. "But you bathe with Whitney."

So he knew.

Of course he knew.

This place had ears everywhere.

"Whitney is a woman," I snapped. "You’re a man. It’s not the same."

He sighed dramatically, like I’d taken away his favorite toy. "Fine. I’ll wait outside."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "No peeking. If you peek, I’ll be angry, and I won’t talk to you anymore."

I wasn’t joking. I wouldn’t put it past him to hide cameras like traps.

He raised his hand like he was making a vow. "Alright. I won’t look. Don’t be mad at me."

I grabbed my toiletries, went into the bathroom, locked the door, and checked every corner like my life depended on it. Only then did I shower.

When I came out dressed, Yael returned too, smelling fresh, like he’d washed up next door.

"Elena," he asked softly, "can we sleep now?"

I threw him a blanket. "No crossing the line."

His face lit up like a happy golden retriever. He lay down on the floor beside the bed, obedient and pleased, hugging the blanket like it was a prize.

I texted Lewis goodnight.

Yael saw it and immediately pouted. "Elena... can you say goodnight to me too?"

"Goodnight, Yael."

He smiled so wide it looked painful, then quickly switched off the lights.

In the darkness, his voice floated over again. "Elena, Vito gave me a nickname. Ravioli. Can you call me Ravioli from now on?"

"Why Ravioli?" I asked, too tired to hide the confusion.

"When I was seven," he said quietly, "that person cooked ravioli for me for the first time. I ate so much I couldn’t stop. Vito said I might as well change my name to Ravioli."

The room went still for a moment, and I used it.

I curled my fingers slightly under the blanket. "Can you tell me about your mother?"

His breathing changed. A pause.

"She..." His voice wavered. "She hates me. She would never admit I’m her child. Let’s not talk about her."

In the dark, he asked timidly, "Elena... can you hug me?"

I hesitated, then reached through the blanket and pulled him in. He pressed his forehead to my neck and nuzzled gently, like he was trying to steal warmth without asking for more.

"Elena," he whispered, "I wish you really were my sister."

I tested him softly. "You want me to be your sister?"

He nodded. "I do. Other than Vito, you’re the first person to hold an umbrella for me. The first person to hug me. I’ll never forget that rainy night. The thunder was loud, but I wasn’t scared as long as you were there."

My chest tightened.

I kept my voice calm. "If I agree to be your sister, will you still poison me or hurt me?"

He shook his head quickly. "No. I only did that because I didn’t want you to leave. As long as you stay, I promise I’ll never do it again."

I patted the back of his head slowly. "Good boy."

Then I asked the question that mattered.

"Then tell me... why did you want to kill me? Was it just because you hate the Sanders?"

Yael went silent.

I could feel him thinking, weighing truth like it was a blade.

I held him a little tighter. "Ravioli," I said gently, "don’t you want me as your sister? How can you hide things from me? I died so miserably... that snowy night."

His body stiffened.

Then he blurted out, voice rushed and shaking. "It wasn’t me who killed you, Elena. It was Silas!"

He swallowed hard and kept talking like he was afraid I’d pull away.

"I didn’t want you to die. I swear. When I got there, you’d already had surgery. You were... you were nothing more than a corpse. I did my best to preserve your body. At first, I wanted to embed you into a stone sculpture forever, but Wisteria refused. She hired someone to... to strip your skin."

His words turned messy, like he was choking on them.

"I made the wax figure and the statue. I just wanted you to have a complete body."

My stomach turned.

So he hadn’t been the one who cut me down.

But he had still stood close enough to the horror to treat it like love.

I forced myself to keep my face calm. "And the car repair shop basement—was that your doing?"

He shook his head quickly. "No. Vito said I was too stupid. He didn’t let me get involved."

That explained a lot.

Vito had kept Yael clean enough to pass as normal. A university student in Snowville. Someone who could smile in daylight and not look like a monster.

"What about Amber?" I asked carefully. "What’s her role in all this?"

Yael shook his head again, more frightened this time. "Elena... I can’t tell you. If I do, you’ll die."

Alright.

Step by step.

I’d wait until he trusted me completely. Until his guard dropped all the way.

I patted his head again, slow and steady.

"It’s late," I said. "Let’s sleep. Goodnight, Ravioli."

His body went rigid for a second, then relaxed. "Mm," he mumbled.

He fell asleep fast.

I lay there staring into the dark.

Right now, I could kill him. He wouldn’t even wake.

But watching him trust me like this, I knew keeping him alive was more useful.

The next morning, Yael was in high spirits and treated me even better, like he’d been rewarded just by hearing his nickname.

But the air between Whitney and Vito had turned icy. Like a wall had risen overnight, tall and sharp.

Because of me, they didn’t return to White Residence.

Instead, they brought Whitney and me to a private villa.

The moment we got out of the car, Yael beamed. "Elena, why don’t you sleep in my room? I had the sheets freshly changed."

I glanced at the courtyard.

Black roses.

Too many.

The whole place felt wrong, like the walls had watched pain happen and remembered it.

The large doors slowly opened.

Yael’s smile froze.

A woman sat on the sofa inside, posture elegant, legs crossed, holding a teacup like she owned the air itself.

Amber.

Her gaze swept over me first, quick and cold.

Then it landed on Yael.

The pressure in the room dropped like a weight. My skin prickled instantly, like an invisible warning had snapped through the space.

Yael moved without thinking, stepping in front of me to shield me from her.

But his tall frame trembled slightly.

"M-mom," he croaked.

Amber’s voice was calm. Too calm. "Yael," she said, "what have you done? Why is this woman still alive?"

Without warning, Vito dropped to his knees.

"Mom," he said quickly, "it’s my fault. Please don’t blame Yael."

Crash.

Amber hurled the teacup.

It struck Vito squarely.