Chapter 285 Oh, Crap. He's Insane
The crystal lamp grazed Francis's face and shattered against the wall.
A sharp edge left a bloody scratch on his handsome face.
Harper ran out barefoot, not noticing the broken crystal, and was about to step on it.
"Watch out!" Francis lunged at her, kneel down and reached out his hand, letting her step on his palm.
Harper couldn't stop in time, and the shards cut into the back of Francis's right hand, embedding deeply.
Blood flowed freely.
Unfazed, Francis scooped her up and placed her back on the bed.
Blood dripped onto the cream-colored sheets, but he didn't care.
He used his bloodied hand to caress her face, his deep black eyes filled with turbulent emotions.
The woman he thought dead for five years, who haunted his dreams, was now alive in front of him.
"Harper. Harper." Francis's tall frame enveloped her, calling her name hoarsely, over and over.
His blood-stained hand traced her cheek, eyebrows, and lips, trembling as he outlined her features.
He needed to convince himself Harper was real, not just a shattered dream.
Francis pressed his lips to her forehead, holding her close, and murmured, "Harper, you can hate me. Despise me. Just don't leave me."
The air was thick with the scent of blood.
Harper tried to push him away, but he wouldn't budge.
Frustrated, she bit down hard on his shoulder.
His muscles were so hard that her teeth ached.
Francis let out a low grunt and pulled back slightly, his eyes intense. "Did it hurt?"
Harper felt helpless.
It was infuriating to deal with a madman, especially one so passionately mad.
She shouted, "Let me go; I want to go home!"
Francis's eyes burned with a deep fire, and he said coldly, "Harper, this is your home."
"This is not my home!" Harper roared.
"This is!" Francis insisted.
"I really don't know you; you've got the wrong person," Harper said genuinely.
Anyone could see she was genuinely confused.
She truly didn't know this man.
But Francis couldn't see it, or didn't want to.
Desperate to keep her, he wanted to prove he wasn't dreaming.
He leaned down, elbows propped on either side of her, suppressing his desire. "Is it because we haven't made love in so long that you've forgotten me? Let me help you, okay?"
As he spoke, his fingers loosened his shirt buttons, leaning in closer.
Harper slapped him hard.
To her, Francis seemed like a madman, a lunatic.
She gritted her teeth. "Are you crazy? I told you I don't know you. I had a husband. You've got the wrong person."
Francis's face tightened, his voice dangerously deep. "What did you say?"
Harper raised her hand, showing her platinum diamond ring. "Are you blind? I was married."
The ring's gleam cut into Francis's eyes like a blade.
He yanked it off forcefully, not caring if it hurt her.
Harper clung to her ring, struggling. "Hey! What are you doing?"
In the end, she couldn't match his strength.
After pulling off the ring, he angrily threw it into the trash.
His eyes filled with a cold storm as he asked, "You found another man?"
No one knew how he had survived the past five years, like a walking corpse, hollow inside.
The thought of her being intimate with another man drove him mad.
His chest felt stomped on, a long-lasting, piercing pain engulfing him.
A tear fell from Francis's bloodshot eyes, landing in Harper's palm.
The hot liquid carried unbearable sorrow.
With tears in his eyes, his voice hoarse, he said, "What does that make of me? I am your husband, do you understand?"
Harper found his words absurd and said firmly, "No, you're not."
"Am I not? Let me show you." Francis pushed her onto the bed, pinning her wrists and pressing down on her.
His eyes were like those of a beast that had caught its prey.
"Let me go!" Harper struggled, shaking her head from side to side.
Just as he leaned in, there was a loud bang, and the door was kicked open.
A figure rushed in, pulled Francis off, and slammed him to the ground.
Francis wasn't a pushover; with a swift move, he turned the tables.
Jasper, who had the upper hand moments ago, was now pinned down with a knee to his neck, his face turning pale.
When Harper saw Jasper on the ground, her eyes filled with panic.
Without thinking, she grabbed the ashtray from the table and smashed it hard against the back of Francis's head.
With a dull thud, Francis was caught off guard, groaning as he let go.
The ashtray rolled on the floor, solid and unbroken.
But Francis's heart was shattered, and blood from the back of his head splattered on the ground.
He slowly lifted his head, like a slow-motion scene in a movie, his handsome face full of disbelief.
Harper's face showed obvious distress, but it wasn't directed at him.
She ran over in a panic, not caring at all about the injured Francis, and pushed him away forcefully.
Though she wasn't strong, Francis felt as if he had been struck by lightning, his heart sinking as he let her push him away.
Harper pulled Jasper up from the ground, her eyes red. "Jasper, are you okay?"
"I'm fine." Jasper had already helped her to her feet.
He was actually skilled at fighting, but after tangling with the four bodyguards outside for too long, he, in his desperation, had managed to fend them off but got hurt as well.
Naturally, he was no match for the energetic Francis when he came in.
Jasper looked at Harper's slightly disheveled clothes and clenched his fist tightly.
Holding back his anger, he draped his jacket over her.
"Are you okay?" Jasper asked with concern.
Harper only cared about Jasper and nodded her head with red eyes.
Although Francis had kissed her, she had resisted fiercely, and he hadn't quite done anything.
Jasper's grim expression softened a bit.
The two of them were so concerned about each other that they completely ignored Francis, who was standing nearby. He looked like he was about to explode with anger.
He clenched his jaw, yanked Harper, and said harshly, "Come here!"
"Mr. Getty, pull yourself together." Jasper quickly pulled Harper behind him, his eyes darkening. "Please stay away from my sister."
Jasper bluntly addressed Francis as "Mr. Getty." Since Francis had already seen Harper, there was no need to pretend not to know him.
He had investigated his sister's ex-husband.
"Your sister?" Francis narrowed his eyes, recalling that he had seen Jasper before and that he seemed to have a cute daughter.
At that time, the airport staff had addressed him as Mr. Murphy.
He had heard of the Murphy family, a large and wealthy family in the international airline business.
But how did Harper become Jasper Murphy's sister?
Jasper didn't hide anything, as these things could be easily found out by Francis with a little investigation.
Jasper briefly explained, "My sister, Harper Murphy, went missing as a child and was only found a few years ago."
Francis's eyes deepened as he looked at Harper standing next to Jasper.
Harper Murphy?
Jasper stepped aside to shield Harper completely. "Mr. Getty, your current actions constitute attempted coercion. I reserve the right to pursue legal action against you."
"Coercion?" Francis was ice-cold, his eyes filled with shadows, and he laughed, "We're married, and you talk to me about coercion?"
Harper couldn't take it anymore. 'Married? With this lunatic?' She fumed silently, wanting to kick him to death.
She tugged at Jasper and snapped, "Jasper, let's go. This man is crazy!"
She pointed to her head and whispered to Jasper, "I think something's wrong with him up there."
Otherwise, why would he grab her and keep saying she was his wife?
Harper's words instantly filled Francis's handsome face with intense rage.
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