Married to The Ice King: Pampered Princess' Survival Guide-Chapter 179: Secret Room

Theo leaned back against the couch, the phone pressed tight to his ear. Liam’s voice came through, low and steady, but it only made Theo’s chest feel heavier.

"Liam... just tell me the truth." His voice cracked with hesitation. "Did I... ever force myself on Daisy before?"

There was silence on the other end for a moment. Theo’s throat tightened, his grip on the phone damp with sweat. "I need to know. This morning... I mean... she—she panicked. And I swear, even after all these years, I can’t believe I’d ever be that kind of scumbag. Please... tell me I wasn’t."

Liam sighed, his tone carrying the weight of something Theo wasn’t ready for. "Well, I don’t know about your bed story, will I? But as far as I observed... no. Seventy percent, no?"

Relief flickered briefly in Theo’s eyes until Liam’s next words dropped like a stone.

"And... if you’re saying she’s panicked... Maybe it’s because of her trauma. She’s not ready to have another one."

Theo blinked, confused knitting his brows. "Not ready? Trauma?" His voice rose, sharp with unease. "What do you mean by that? And what is this about not being ready to have another one?"

On the other end of the line, Liam went quiet for a beat, then exhaled heavily. "Theo... you really don’t remember, huh?"

Theo’s heart pounded. "Just tell me already."

"She... she lost a baby once. Miscarried." Liam’s voice dropped lower, heavier. "But it wasn’t natural. She was forced."

The blood drained from Theo’s face. His fingers clenched the phone so tightly his knuckles turned white. "Forced?" His voice cracked, disbelief dripping from every syllable. "What the hell do you mean forced? Are you telling me I—"

"No." Liam cut him off firmly. "You didn’t. George did."

Theo froze, his breath locking in his chest. "George?" he whispered, as if the name itself left a bitter taste. His mind reeled, every muscle tense. "You’re telling me... George did that? Are you being serious right now?"

Liam’s silence was enough of an answer.

"What the hell has been happening all these years?" Theo rasped, his voice trembling with anger and despair. His brows knit tight, and he dragged a hand over his face as if he could scrape the truth out of himself. His chest heaved, breath unsteady, the weight of everything pressing down harder with each second.

He clenched his jaw, eyes burning as he tried to force his mind to unlock those sealed-away memories. Why couldn’t he remember? Why had he chosen, cowardly, to shut it all out?

"Was I... really that weak?" he muttered under his breath, the self-loathing sharp, almost choking.

Theo sat there for a long moment after hanging up, the phone still clutched tight in his hand. His pulse was pounding, every word Liam said echoing in his head. ’Forced... miscarriage... trauma...’

His gaze drifted, desperate to cling to anything ordinary. That’s when his eyes landed on the small bookshelf in the corner of their bedroom, probably filled with his business books.

But as he stared emptily at the bookshelf, a memory crossed his mind.

The neat rows of spines. The quiet presence of books stacked close together. Only... taller, older, heavier.

He stood up abruptly, a frown pulling at his face. "Where is it?" he mumbled under his breath, as though asking himself, hoping his brain would finally do the work.

Sighing, he glanced back at Daisy, still fast asleep on the bed. She was probably too tired, still under the haze of last night’s alcohol.

"Study!" His eyes flicked up as the memory sharpened this time. The study.

He rushed out of the room and called for the maid. "Where is my study?"

Lily blinked in surprise. "Over there, sir..." She pointed at the room two doors down from their bedroom.

Theo didn’t waste a second. He pushed the door open and stepped into his study, the faint scent of paper and wood polish wrapping around him.

His eyes swept over the room until the image in his memory aligned with reality. The shelves. The very same rows, tall and heavy, standing against the wall just as his mind had shown him.

Slowly, he walked toward them. His fingers brushed across the spines, scanning the titles, searching for the one thing that stood out. And then he saw it, one unique book, something that didn’t quite belong among the others.

His heartbeat thudded in his ears. "It has to be this one," he muttered.

With a firm tug, the book shifted. The shelf gave a quiet groan, and then, just as his memory promised, it creaked open, revealing a hidden space behind it.

Theo stepped into the hidden space. His eyes widened.

The wall before him was covered in pictures, Daisy’s face in every frame. Some looked stolen, like they’d been taken without her noticing. Others were clearer, almost careful. But all of them were her.

Theo’s stomach knotted. For a moment, he thought it was someone else’s madness he’d uncovered. But deep down, he knew. This was his own doing. His hands, his choices, his 29-year-old self had built this.

He ran a hand over his face, unsettled.

"Why...? Why would I...?" he whispered, the words breaking out before he could stop them.

The 19-year-old inside him searched for answers, but found only flickers of memory, her laughter, her gaze brushing past him, the strange quiet in his chest whenever she was around. Back then, he never named it, never dared to.

And now, staring at the wall, he still didn’t know the full reason. He only knew one thing for certain, Daisy had mattered. Enough that even the man he’d become couldn’t let go of her.

Stepping closer, Theo reached for one of the photos. His thumb brushed over the glossy surface, over Daisy’s frozen smile, before his eyes caught a faint scribble at the bottom edge. A date. Written carefully, almost like someone was cataloging each memory.

His brows furrowed, but without thinking further, he set the picture back where it belonged and turned toward the small side table pushed against the wall. On top of it sat a cute notebook, the kind women often chose to keep as a diary.

Picking it up, he flipped it open and froze at the name written neatly on the very first page.

"Daisy Sinclair..." he whispered under his breath.

"Theo... are you in there?"

Daisy’s voice snapped his head back toward the door.