Ariana remained motionless, maintaining her posture without uttering a word.

Once the ward emptied, Ariana confirmed her solitude. Her expression changed consequently. Swiftly, she sat up, unveiling the thermos and gluttonously devouring the soup! !

Sarah understood her well, so she brought some food. Ariana had weathered intense emotional turmoil, which meant she could eat a horse now!

Once she had fueled up with a good meal, Ariana found her mind sharpening once more.

One certainty stood out to her: the body that everyone believed to be Theodore's wasn't his.

There was supposed to be a scar etched into the skin of his right hand.

A fiery memory echoed in her mind, Theodore playing the hero, his hand marred by a burning chandelier as he protected her. That scar, that symbol of bravery and love, was absent from the body she had touched in the mortuary. But when she was in the town with Theodore, the scar was still on his hand.

It was clear to her that Darian and Jasper were blind to this fact.

Otherwise, they would have been suspicious of the body's identity and would not have flaunted their joy in front of her.

Furthermore, the timeline Darian had constructed of the event seemed faulty to her. He said the tragic accident happened two days ago, early in the morning. But Theodore was right next to her, sound asleep at that time.

It appeared that neither Darian nor Jasper knew about Theodore's secret trip to the town.

A phrase, echoing in Ariana's mind like a cryptic mantra, was Theodore's consistent "wait a little Longer."

He spoke these words as if they were a promise of an approaching resolution. Had this been the end he had hinted at? Now, looking back, she realized these words were seeds of something bigger; Theodore was orchestrating a plan.

He had certainly staged his own death, but Ariana was left grappling with the question of why, still uncertain of the grand scheme he had plotted.

Ariana was in the dark about who was in on Theodore's secret plan and who was clueless; she didn't even know if she could trust Horace.

This uncertainty stoked a fire of anger within her.

Theodore's cavalier attitude, not caring whether or not she bought into his staged death, irked her. Even if she wanted to disassociate herself from his ploy, she was too entwined to do so. Theodore had left her in the lurch, clueless! Was he confident in her resilience, or did he doubt her ability to play along convincingly?

With a huff, Ariana pushed the bowl of chicken soup away and absent-mindedly massaged her belly.

The identities of Theodore's cohorts remained a mystery, and she couldn't afford to gamble with trust. She had to put on a mask of devastation and heartbreak.

Her gaze fell on the abandoned chicken soup; she felt a tinge of reluctance to waste it. But someone grieving couldn't be seen enjoying a hearty meal. If she had to play a part, she would have to go all in.