Chapter 6 His Broken Angel
"Where do you think you can run after letting my wife get hurt?"
The deep, cold voice greeted Anna as she snapped out of her daze. She lifted her head from the car window and realized they had arrived at the mansion. Damon Lexton stood there, towering in the wide-open main doorway. He wasn't looking at Anna but at Leo, who had just stepped out of the driver's seat.
The aura around Damon was so dark and oppressive that even the usually calm Leo bowed his head deeply.
"Forgive me, Sir. I was negligent," Leo said with deep regret.
"You weren't just negligent, Leo. You failed," Damon hissed sharply. "You let that trash touch what is mine."
"Wait, Sir," Anna cut in quickly. She couldn't bear to see Leo take the blame. "This isn't Leo's fault. It was my fault for forcing my way in there."
Hearing Anna's voice made Damon shift his gaze. The man walked down the terrace steps with slow yet intimidating strides. He kept advancing until his towering body was right in front of Anna.
Damon leaned in. The distance between their faces was so close their noses almost touched. Anna held her breath. She could even hear the steady, heavy rhythm of his breathing against her face. The strong scent of tobacco and musk instantly intoxicated her senses.
"Are you defending him, Anna?" Damon whispered in a low, dangerous tone.
Anna's heart raced. She tried to meet those grey eyes without fear, even though her knees were trembling.
"That's not it, Sir," Anna squeaked nervously. "I'm just speaking the truth. It really wasn't his fault because Leo tried to stop me, but I was stubborn."
Damon stared into Anna's eyes for a few seconds, as if searching for a lie. Then he straightened up and looked at Leo coldly.
"Good intentions do not erase failure," Damon said flatly, without an ounce of mercy. "Go to my study now. You know what punishment awaits you there."
"Yes, Sir," Leo replied obediently, without a single argument. He walked past Anna into the mansion with a look of resignation.
Anna gaped in disbelief. This man was truly an undeniable tyrant.
"Inside," Damon ordered Anna. "I've already called Doctor Hans."
Anna swallowed nervously. She followed Damon into the magnificent living room.
"I'm fine, Sir," Anna refused softly. "It's just a small scratch on my palm. Our baby is fine too."
Damon stopped and turned around.
"I didn't ask for your opinion," Damon cut her off coldly. "I decide whether you are alright or not. Wait here."
Anna could only obey. She sat anxiously on the edge of a long sofa. She saw several maids rushing around in a panic, preparing warm water and other medical supplies as if for a major surgery.
Damon's over-the-top reaction was a stark contrast to Reymond.
A painful memory replayed in Anna's head. Once, when she accidentally fell down the stairs after being pushed by Sienna, a panicked Reymond had rushed to help Sienna, who was pretending to be in shock. Reymond didn't even ask if Anna was hurt. Instead, he scolded Anna for supposedly scaring Sienna.
The thought made Anna's heart ache.
Soon, Damon returned carrying a black leather-bound first-aid kit. Without a hint of pride, the man knelt on one knee before Anna.
"Give me your hand," he commanded.
Anna hesitantly extended her injured hand. Damon cleaned the wound with an antiseptic wipe. His movements were rough, yet somehow incredibly meticulous. He made sure no dirt was left in the wound.
Anna winced as the antiseptic touched her open skin. The stinging pain made her unconsciously pull her hand back.
Damon's grip on her wrist tightened instantly.
"Don't be a baby," Damon hissed. His face was still expressionless, but his eyes had darkened.
Anna fell silent and let the man treat her wound. She watched Damon's long fingers wrap her wound with a sterile bandage. His movements were so skilled, as if he had done this many times before. Anna's heart suddenly softened a little.
For all the years she was engaged to Reymond, he had never once done this for her. Reymond was always more attentive to Sienna. Anna had always tried to understand, telling herself it was because Sienna was Reymond's childhood friend.
But now, seeing Damon's cold yet secretly caring treatment, Anna realized. How foolish she had been all this time, expecting love from the wrong man.
After he finished, Damon stood up. He looked at Anna, who was still looking down.
"You lost the necklace," Damon said. It wasn't a question but a cold statement of fact.
Anna nodded weakly, not daring to speak. Tears began to well in her eyes from a sense of guilt.
"Rest," Damon ordered coldly. He then turned and walked toward his study, where Leo was already waiting to receive his punishment.
That evening, the atmosphere at the dining table was colder than usual. Anna sat in her chair with a vacant stare. The image of her necklace falling into a garbage truck played on a loop in her head like a broken record.
"Finish your food," Damon commanded without looking up from his plate.
"I'm not hungry," Anna replied softly.
Damon slowly put down his fork. He looked at Anna sharply.
"That fetus needs nutrients. Do you want my child to be born malnourished like you?" he sneered caustically.
Although his words stung, Anna knew there was concern behind them. Reluctantly, she began to put food in her mouth. She ate not because she was hungry, but because she didn't want anything to happen to the child inside her.
Anna's sleep was restless that night. She kept having nightmares about Reymond and Sienna's humiliation. In her dreams, she saw her necklace swallowed by darkness forever. She felt like she had lost a part of her soul.
The next morning, as sunlight began to creep through the gaps in the curtains, Anna woke up feeling empty. She reached for her phone on the bedside table. She wanted to check the time.
However, her fingers didn't touch the smooth, cold surface of the phone. Instead, they brushed against something familiar.
Anna slowly opened her half-asleep eyes. Instantly, they flew wide open. Her heart seemed to stop for a few seconds. All her sleepiness vanished without a trace.
On the mahogany bedside table lay a very familiar object. A dull silver necklace with a pendant shaped like a broken angel's wing.
With a trembling hand, Anna reached for the necklace. It felt real in her grasp. She traced the small scratch on the back of the pendant. It was there. This was really her necklace.
Anna hurriedly brought the necklace to her nose. She was afraid of smelling the pungent stench of garbage. But her eyes widened in shock.
There was no smell of trash at all. The necklace was clean and shiny. Instead, it exuded another, very strong and familiar scent. The scent of musk mixed with expensive tobacco and dominant masculine pheromones.
Anna covered her mouth. Her body trembled violently, not from fear, but from her heart racing wildly.
"Could it have been him?" Anna whispered in disbelief.
