Chapter 5

"Answer me. Are you taking it or aren't you?"

I shook my head once more.

Another blow landed. Then another, each one heavier than the last. My whole body shook, palms pressed flat against the floor just to keep myself upright.

Through the glass window I could make out the world outside. Adrian was standing there, out in the garden, his back to this room entirely. One hand tucked in his pocket, the other holding a phone to his ear. His shoulders were loose, unbothered, like nothing on earth could reach him.

Then he laughed — quiet, low.

"...Charlotte," I caught faintly through the glass.

Of course. Who else would it be?

"Since you refuse to understand," Mrs. Kingsley said behind me, cold as ever, lifting the strap again, "then I'll beat it into that skull of yours."

The leather sliced through the air and struck again. My vision started swimming. Pain bloomed everywhere, hot and consuming. Something wet was seeping through my clothing but I couldn't bring myself to look.

"I w-won't," my voice came out thin, barely audible. "I won't take it..."

Another blow landed. My body gave out entirely and I crumpled forward, barely managing to keep myself from collapsing completely.

Through my blurring vision I saw him again. Still out there. Still on the phone. Still not turning around. Not once.

A small, fractured thought passed through me. Had I ever meant anything to him at all? Or was I simply someone he could lose without so much as noticing?

Everything began sliding into darkness. And right before I lost consciousness, something strange washed over me.

Relief.

Maybe this was for the best. Maybe once this was over, I'd finally stop feeling anything for him at all.

**

When I came to, I was already in a hospital bed. Everything felt weighted down, and the instant I tried to take a deeper breath, my back flared with fire.

"Mr. Kingsley, the wounds are quite serious," someone near me was saying. "The strap cut deep in places, down to the dermis in some spots. Healing will take time."

"Then get her the best treatment there is," Adrian's voice cut in, low and hard. "I don't care what it costs. Bring in the top doctors, and make sure she's not left frightened."

"Understood, right away."

Footsteps receded, and the room fell silent.

I opened my eyes slowly.

He was there.

Standing at the bedside, looking down at me.

Once he registered I was conscious, he stepped in closer, brows drawn slightly together. "You're up? How are you feeling?"

I tried to shift and pain shot through me instantly, sharp and burning. I sucked in a breath and pushed out a small voice. "I'm fine. There are people here to handle things. If you have somewhere to be, you should go."

I expected him to leave.

He didn't.

Instead he settled into the chair beside the bed, his eyes fixed on me like he was turning over something he couldn't quite say out loud.

"Why didn't you call me?" he asked after a pause. "While she was doing that to you — why didn't you reach out?"

My fingers curled slightly beneath the blanket.

I remembered him out there. Back turned. Laughing softly into his phone.

"I could see you were occupied," I said quietly, a faint, bitter smile slipping through.

Then I looked at him directly. "If I had called, would you have actually come right away?"

"Of course I would have," he said, no hesitation at all.

I froze.

That wasn't the answer I'd braced for.

Not even close.

"I've already dealt with it," he went on, his tone leveling out. "No one's going to bring up children again. That's finished."

"...I understand." I dropped my gaze. "You should go, then. There's no need to stay."

His brow creased. "Why do you keep trying to push me out?"

I blinked, thrown slightly. "Don't you have things to attend to?"

Things. Her. Always her.

"I've got nothing pressing right now," he said. Then he reached over and straightened the blanket around me, his movements careful, almost tender. "I'll stay here a few days. Look after you."

I didn't know how to respond to that. It felt foreign, like something that wasn't meant for me. But he really did stay.

**

Over the following days, he didn't leave the hospital once.

He adjusted the bed when I couldn't move on my own, fed me when my hands were too weak to manage it, even helped change my dressings without a hint of reluctance. A man like him, doing all this?

Sometimes I caught myself simply staring at him. Was this actually happening? Or had I drifted into another dream?

One night the pain grew so bad I couldn't sleep at all. It kept radiating across my back, making every breath feel like a burden.

He noticed.

"Can't sleep?" he asked quietly.

I didn't answer, just squeezed my eyes shut harder.

Then I felt it — his hand, slow and steady, patting lightly against my back. Careful. Gentle. As though he were afraid of causing more pain.

"It's okay," he murmured. "Just sleep now."

Over and over, that same steady rhythm.

That warmth felt so familiar — like those rare moments from before everything had fallen apart. For a moment I almost let myself believe in it again. But I didn't. I couldn't. I'd already made my decision. I was leaving, and this time I wasn't going to look back.

A week passed and the marks across my back finally began to fade. Not gone, but lighter.

While he was applying medicine one afternoon, his fingers brushed a little too close and a small sound escaped me before I could catch it. He went still. I turned, puzzled, and found his eyes locked on me, dark and heavy, his throat working like he was holding something back.

"Did that hurt?" he asked, though his voice had gone rough, nothing like before.

"No, I just—" I tried to explain but he moved in closer. Too close. His hand settled against my waist, firm, like his thoughts had stopped entirely.

"Adrian..." I whispered, my pulse picking up speed.

He didn't respond. His breathing grew heavier, his gaze dropping to my mouth. His face drifted closer, slow, like he was about to cross some line—

Smack!

We both turned.

Charlotte stood in the doorway, eyes red-rimmed, the fruit basket already on the floor, its contents scattered everywhere. Her lips quivered. "Did I walk in at a bad time? I didn't realize you two were..." She bit down on her lip, unable to finish the sentence.

Adrian pulled back from me instantly. "Charlotte, don't start imagining things! It's not what it looks like. I was just helping her apply medicine, nothing more."

Before I could react, he shoved me aside.

Hard.

I lost my footing and dropped straight off the bed, the back of my skull catching the sharp edge of the table with a dull crack. Pain exploded and something warm began trickling down.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to ruin whatever this was." Charlotte's voice cracked as she spun around. "I'll go, you don't owe me any explanation—"

"Charlotte!" Adrian didn't hesitate for a second. "Wait, just listen to me. Don't run off like this." His voice turned urgent, nearly angry. "Damn it, stop right there."

He took off after her.

Didn't spare me a glance.

Not once.

The door slammed shut and silence swallowed the room again.

I stayed there on the floor, my vision slowly clouding over. Blood slid past my temple, warm and sticky. I stared up at the ceiling and let out a soft, broken laugh.

Why had I even let myself hope?

Tears slipped sideways into my hair. Wasn't I already used to this by now?

By the time the nurse found me, everything was already fading. Voices sounded like they were coming from somewhere far away.

"Head trauma! She's bleeding heavily, get the doctor now!"

Then darkness took over.