Chapter 277 Discovering Her Injury
"Why?" Alexander asked.
"The scent of Isabella's perfume still lingers on you," Victoria responded, her voice barely above a whisper. Alexander halted his advances, the words sinking in.
"Perhaps we should shower together?" he proposed, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
Victoria was taken aback, surprise etched on her face.
"I fear you might make a run for it while I'm in the shower," Alexander confessed, his voice barely audible. His concern was genuine; he had just managed to coax her back.
"I assure you, I won't run. I still intend to divorce you," Victoria declared, a hint of melancholy seeping into her soft voice.
Alexander was oblivious to the fact that Victoria no longer had the courage to flee. The once confident woman was now terrified of walking alone at night.
Victoria was at a loss, unable to comprehend her current predicament. Misfortune seemed to be her constant companion of late. In Ankenra, she had faced romantic competition. Now, overseas, she felt like her life was spiraling out of control.
"Then run," Alexander retorted, abruptly leaving her side.
The lingering scent of the perfume had not escaped his notice. Initially, he had chosen to ignore it, but now it was becoming a nuisance. Rising from his seat, he strode towards the bathroom, flicking on the light switch as he passed.
The sudden brightness stung Victoria's eyes, causing her to shield them with her hand. As the sound of running water filled the room, she quietly rose from her seat. It was time to make her escape.
However, instead of fleeing the house, she sought refuge in the small guest room, swiftly locking the door behind her.
---
The following morning greeted them with a gentle drizzle. Victoria, clad in her pajamas, squinted as she made her way to the kitchen, her throat parched.
"Good morning," Alexander greeted, startling Victoria from her drowsy state.
Dressed in a crisply ironed white shirt, Alexander stood in the kitchen, busily preparing breakfast. He was the epitome of a fairytale prince - mysterious yet gentle, impossible not to fall for. Victoria's heart fluttered at the sight of him, and it took her a moment to remember that he had spent the night there.
Alexander cast a fleeting glance in her direction before returning his attention to the breakfast preparations. After a few seconds, he turned his gaze back to her.
"What happened to your neck?" he inquired, concern lacing his voice.
Victoria instinctively reached for her throat, only to remember the injury on her wrist. She quickly pulled her sleeve over it and replied, "My throat's a bit sore. I must have scratched it." Her voice was raspy, lending credibility to her lie.
"Do you want some water?" Alexander asked.
"No, I'll freshen up first," Victoria declined, her mind racing. She needed to escape before her secret was discovered.
"Victoria," Alexander called out as she turned to leave.
He handed her a glass of warm water he had prepared earlier. "Drink this," he urged, standing behind her.
Victoria didn't dare turn around; she just wanted to drink quickly and leave. But as she raised her hand to take the glass, Alexander noticed the scar on her wrist.
She quickly lowered her hand, her sleeve falling back into place, concealing the scar. "Actually, I'm not thirsty anymore," she murmured.
Alexander furrowed his brow, "Your throat sounds so hoarse. Are you sure you're not thirsty? Do you want me to help you drink?"
"Well, then help me," Victoria conceded, turning to face him.
Alexander's frown deepened. He studied her for a moment before slowly bringing the glass to her lips. As she sipped the water, he noticed her throat once again, his mind whirling with thoughts.
Victoria could see his gaze darken, a hint of menace creeping in. She dared not drink any more. She pushed the glass away, murmuring, "I should go."
Before she could move, Alexander grabbed her wrist. A buzzing filled Victoria's ears, and she began to tremble.
Alexander looked at her intently, "Victoria, you've been lying to me."
He remembered how she had winced in pain the previous night when he had merely touched her chin. At the time, he hadn't thought much of it.
But now, he held her wrist firmly, leading her towards the dining room. He set the glass down, turned to face her, and gently cupped her face.
"Ouch, it hurts," she whimpered, instinctively reaching up to grab his strong wrist.
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