Chapter 31
The cold wind kissed Harper's delicate skin, sending shivers and setting her flesh on edge.
Francis's rage clouded his judgment as he looked her over. Her beauty was striking, her neck still bearing his marks. The contrast of red against her pale skin was captivating. Even the slightest abrasion left a lasting impression on her tender skin.
He didn't want to be this harsh, but the mere thought of her defending another man set him ablaze with fury, scalding his throat with a fire he couldn't swallow down.
Harper was genuinely terrified, scrambling for an escape. "Francis, please—I'm... I'm on my period..." Her voice cracked in desperation.
"Really?" Francis sneered, disbelief coloring his tone.
Harper nodded fervently. She knew that her body couldn't bear it. He replied with a dark glint in his eyes, "We'll see about that."
His fingers reached for her pants that she tried to fend off, stammering, "No, please. It's dirty."
But all he did was let out an enigmatic laugh. His intentions were unreadable.
Suddenly, he leaned in close, the pads of his fingers tracing her petal-soft lips. "Even if you're on your period, there are other ways..." The words hung heavy in the air, laced with both crudeness and humiliation.
In two years of marriage, he had never asked her to do such a thing.
Now, the very thought made Harper's face turn a ghastly shade of pale.
Francis was determined today to make her understand, to assert his position as her man. However, his harsh words were more of a show than he had intended. He had never pushed her this far before, and he had no intention of doing so now.
Yet he needed her to promise that she would cut ties with that other man.
His gaze softened at the sight of Harper's ashen face. "If you just listened, why would I ever...?"
Before he could finish, Harper snapped. Her eyes clenched shut. She cursed him out.
"Francis, you bastard, son of a bitch. Go find Chloe if you're so tough!"
Her voice buzzed, her nose tingled with sourness, but she held back the tears.
She knew his anger wasn't rooted in jealousy or envy. It was simply possessiveness. Others couldn't taint his belongings, even things he had discarded. They were still off-limits.
'That's why he was furious, so urgent to assert his rights over me.'
It felt like her heart had been punctured, aching.
'What did I do wrong to be treated this way?
'The real wrongdoers are the two shameless people at fault here.'
When she pushed him away, Francis's mind exploded. The anger he had repressed flared again.
He gripped her delicate chin, his lips curling into a slight, cold smirk. "It seems you just won't learn."
Moonlight poured in.
Francis moved on top of her, and in that moment of skin-to-skin contact, he couldn't think of anything else. He craved Harper's body and yearned to lose himself in her.
Suddenly, a tear landed on the back of his cold, pale hand.
Then more followed, threading together like pearls in a mad rush onto his skin.
The heat of her tears inexplicably gave him a strange feeling.
Every ounce of her was radiated resistance.
She was unwilling, and it drove him to the brink of madness.
His face contorted with an intensity he had never experienced before, fueling a desire to tear the other man to pieces.
Francis scowled deeply, yanked back his tie, got dressed, and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
He descended the stairs and was about to leave when Auntie approached.
"Francis, are you heading out?" she inquired. Noticing she held a first aid kit, he asked, "What's that?"
Auntie glanced down. "Oh, this? It's medicine for wounds. I'm preparing to take it to Harper."
His eyes deepened. "Is she hurt?"
Auntie's face was a portrait of shock. "Didn't you see, Francis? Harper's foot was bleeding just now."
Francis paused, a momentary lapse in his rage-fueled focus. 'Harper was injured?' In his anger today, he had overlooked it entirely.
"There's more," Auntie continued, her gaze firm. "Chloe came by earlier. It was after their talk that Harper left."
Had Chloe been here? All afternoon, Victor had only mentioned that Auntie called to say Harper had gone out—no mention of Chloe's visit. The security at the Moou Residence was tight. Chloe must have had her driver escort her inside.
Francis frowned. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"
Auntie's simple honesty shone through. "I thought it wasn't important."
"Nothing about Harper is unimportant. From now on, you tell me everything about her, no matter how small!"
"All right, Francis. I'll go up now and apply some ointment to Harper."
As Auntie turned to leave, Francis stopped her, his voice calm yet firm. "Give me the first aid kit."
In her room, Harper took off her torn clothes, her heel throbbing sharply. Bending down, she saw the cut had reopened, blood soaking through the bandage. Feeling helpless, she crouched down, her heart heavy with sorrow.
She once stood proud atop the podium at national competitions, basking in the praise of her teachers. But now, for a man who didn't love her, what had she become?
Wrapping her arms around herself, she buried her face in her knees. 'Oh, Harper, what have you done to yourself...'
The door opened. Thinking it was Auntie, Harper didn't stir. "Auntie, I'm not hungry. I just want to be alone," she murmured hoarsely.
Francis stood at the threshold, his long lashes veiling the emotions in his eyes. The once bold and spirited Harper seemed like a soulless, broken doll—fragile and beautiful.
The open window let the cold wind slice into the room. Francis's expression darkened, and he felt a tearing pain in his heart.
His usually indifferent heart now felt a twinge of regret. Had he been too harsh? Had he hurt her in some way?
With this thought, he quickened his steps, his actions tender as he lifted her onto the bed.
Close by, Harper, mistaking him for Auntie, mumbled lazily, "Auntie, I really don't want to—"
But then she caught the familiar scent of his cologne. Her head snapped up, and seeing his strikingly handsome face, panic set in. She began pushing against him.
He caught her wrist with the barest strength, his voice deep and magnetic, "Don't move. I'm here to redress your wound."
Harper was momentarily stunned, confusion painted across her face as she watched Francis's impeccably clean and attractive hands cradle her foot, gently unwrapping the bandage around it. Her bewilderment spilled into her words, "Are you possessed or something?"
Looking up with a playful arch of his brow, Francis chuckled, "What's going on in that head of yours?"
Unable to fathom any other reason for his peculiar behavior, Harper suddenly jerked her foot back, wrapping herself tightly in the bedsheet, her face etched with suspicion. "You better not be up to no good!"
As soon as the words left her mouth, she clapped a hand over it. The twitch in his chiseled features was impossible to miss.
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
