Chapter 130: Cold Shoulder
Aurora’s POV
Before she could pull the door shut, I grabbed the heavy handle. I glared at her, my eyes searching hers for a sign of guilt. She flinched, refusing to meet my gaze, and hurried away down the hall.
I stepped inside and slammed the door behind me, ready to demand an explanation.
The first thing I noticed wasn’t Oliver, but the mess. A porcelain teacup lay shattered on the hardwood floor, dark liquid soaking into the expensive rug. Then I saw him. Oliver was on the bed, tucked deeply under the heavy duvet. He looked... drained.
"I saw a maid coming out of your room," I snapped, my voice laced with the bitterness of my suspicion.
He didn’t jump. He didn’t even look surprised. He just lay there, his face pale and his eyes shadowed. He looked weak, and for some reason, that triggered me even more. Did she wear him out that much?
"Do you care to explain why she was in here?" I demanded, my arms folded tightly across my chest.
Oliver let out a rough, angry scoff. "She is a maid, Aurora. Her duty is to serve me."
"Even in bed?" I shot back, the words biting. "Is that why you didn’t call? Is that why you didn’t come to work? Because you were too busy fucking the staff?"
He didn’t respond. He just stared at the ceiling, his jaw clenched. Before I could scream at him again, a sharp knock sounded at the door.
"Come in," Oliver rasped.
The same maid walked back in, followed by a middle-aged man carrying a medical bag. I frowned, the anger in my gut stalling.
"Alpha, how are you feeling?" the man asked, walking straight to the bedside.
Oliver sat up slowly, his movements stiff and pained. "Like my head is split in two," he muttered. "The fever won’t break."
My heart did a painful 180-degree turn. He wasn’t avoiding me because he was with someone else. He was sick. Really sick.
The man, the Pack doctor, began checking his pulse, while Oliver turned a sharp, icy glare toward the maid. She shivered, looking like she wanted to melt into the floor.
"The tea," Oliver growled, his voice low and filled with rage. "If you bring me that filth again while I’m in this state, you’ll be scrubbing the floors of the dungeon for a month."
I stood there, frozen. The broken cup, the scared maid, the silence—it all made sense now. He hadn’t touched her; he had shouted at her in a fit of feverish rage.
I felt like the smallest person in the world. I had come here ready to accuse him of cheating, all while I was literally wearing another man’s mark on my shoulder.
"I... I didn’t know you were ill," I whispered, my voice barely audible over the sound of the doctor opening his bag.
Oliver finally looked at me, and the exhaustion in his eyes made me want to cry. "Clearly," he said flatly.
The healer placed a hand on Oliver’s chest, his eyes closing as he murmured a low, rhythmic incantation. A soft, golden light pulsed briefly between his palm and Oliver’s skin. After a moment, the doctor sighed and stepped back, packing his tools.
"The fever has broken, Alpha. Physically, the illness is gone," the healer said, his voice filled with worry. "But the main problem here isn’t medical. It’s emotional. You are deeply troubled, Alpha. Your mind is at war with itself, and it’s draining your wolf."
Oliver didn’t look at him. He just stared blankly at the far wall. "I’ll be fine. Just leave the medicine on the table."
"Take a good rest," the healer warned, glancing at me briefly before looking back at the King. "And stop pressuring your head. If you don’t find peace, the fever will return."
He nodded to me and left, the terrified maid scurrying out behind him. The heavy click of the door felt like a gavel hitting a block. The room was deathly quiet, save for the sound of my own shallow breathing.
I felt a wave of shame so thick it was hard to swallow. I walked toward the bed, my footsteps soft on the rug. I wanted to reach out, to touch his hair, to be the comfort he clearly needed.
"Oliver?" I whispered, sitting on the edge of the mattress. "What is wrong? Please, talk to me."
He didn’t answer. He didn’t even acknowledge I was there. He simply rolled over, his broad back turning toward me like a stone wall. He pulled the heavy duvet up over his shoulders, burying himself in the fabric.
The rejection stung more than Raymond’s spanks ever could. He was right here, inches away, and yet he felt miles out of reach.
"I’m sorry for what I said about the maid," I said, my voice trembling. "I was just... I was worried because I hadn’t heard from you. I let my head get the best of me."
Still nothing. The silence stretched out, cold and suffocating. I stared at the back of his head, wondering if he could feel the darkness radiating off me. I was a liar. I was a traitor. And here he was, suffering from an emotional weight that I was likely the cause of, even if he didn’t know the specifics.
I reached out a hand, hesitating just inches from his shoulder. If I touched him, would he get irritated? Would his wolf sense the scent of another man on me?
"Oliver, please," I choked out. "Don’t shut me out."
He let out a long, weary sigh, but he didn’t turn around. "Go to work, Aurora. I just want to sleep."
My heart sank, but I wasn’t going to be brushed aside that easily, not when I could feel the wall he was building between us.
"No," I said, my voice firmer this time, though it still had a slight tremor. "I’m not leaving. I’m not going back to that office to sit across from Elias and pretend everything is fine while you’re up here like this."
He didn’t move. He stayed tucked under the duvet, a silent mountain of a man who seemed determined to freeze me out. The guilt in my chest flared again—sharp and hot. Was he like this because I decided to go home? Was it because of my cold attitude toward him?
"Oliver, look at me. Please," I pleaded, reaching out again. This time, I didn’t hesitate. I placed my hand on his shoulder, feeling the heat still radiating from his skin.
I expected him to shrug me off. I expected him to growl or tell me to get out. But he just let out another long, shaky breath.
"You should go, Aurora," he rasped, his voice muffled by the pillows. "I’m not good company right now. My wolf is... he’s restless. He’s angry. And I don’t want that anger directed at you."