Chapter 3

Elizabeth wrapped her arms tightly around his firm waist, looking up seriously. "Alex, I won't run away anymore. Wherever you are, that's where I'll be."

Alexander's body stiffened at her words. He had waited so long—so damn long—to hear something like that, but now that it was real, it felt surreal. Like a fragile dream that could vanish any second.

But the moment his gaze landed on the ugly wound on her forehead, everything snapped into brutal clarity.

He'd hurt her. Again.

That thought hit him hard. Without a word, he reached out toward the doctor waiting by the door.

"Give me the first aid kit."

The doctor froze for a second, then quickly brought the disinfectant and bandages over.

Alexander took them and waved everyone else off.

Once the door softly clicked shut behind them, only the two of them remained.

Taking a deep breath, he knelt down and began tending to her wound—his movements clumsy but painstakingly gentle.

The sting of the cold antiseptic made Elizabeth hiss quietly.

His hand paused mid-air. Panic and guilt flashed across his face. "Does it hurt?"

The usually composed Alexander now looked like he was walking on eggshells, and it made Elizabeth's heart twist.

How blind had she been, in that past life, to miss the tenderness buried beneath his cold, guarded shell?

She shook her head, swallowing the lump in her throat. Instead, she reached up and brushed her fingers lightly along the sharp line of his jaw.

There was a fine cut there, likely from the chaos earlier.

"I'm really okay. Barely felt a thing." Her voice was soft, almost like a whisper, "But what about you... are you sure you're alright now? That poison..."

Her eyes—completely unfiltered—were full of worry, like light cutting through the darkness he'd lived in so long it felt like home.

But the second he looked back at the gash on her forehead, made by his own doing, the guilt came crashing in like a wave.

How could someone like him—obsessive, messed up—be worthy of her kindness?

And how long could this gentleness last?

Would it all just disappear, replaced by cold words and distant looks?

"I'm fine," he said abruptly, standing up. His voice had gone icy again. "You should get some rest."

He didn't dare face her a second longer. Wasting no time, he spun and strode out of the study like he was running from something.

Elizabeth sat frozen for a moment, then slowly lifted her fingers to touch the wound he just dressed with such care.

Out of nowhere, she let out a soft laugh. But as her laughter faded, her eyes turned red again.

Was he scared?

Scared that he'd hurt her again?

So scared he didn't even let himself enjoy that one fleeting moment of warmth?

That hurt, more than anything. Like a needle quietly sewing ache into her chest.

He cared about her. Way more than she ever dared to believe.

Murmuring to herself, she said, "You big fool, Alexander..."

A sudden wave of dizziness hit her—probably from the blood loss and everything else. She dragged her tired body back to the bedroom and collapsed onto the bed, falling into unconsciousness almost the second her head touched the pillow.

...

Next morning, sunlight peeked through the tiny cracks in the heavy curtains.

Elizabeth woke up to a slight headache buzzing behind her eyes.

She got ready, slipped on a simple long dress, and used her bangs to cover the bandage on her forehead as much as possible before heading downstairs for breakfast.

Just as she reached the doorway of the dining room, a voice she despised with every fiber of her being rang out—sweet and fake as ever.

"Liz! You're up? Oh my god, what happened to your forehead?! Don't tell me... did Mr. Blake hurt you again?!"

Victoria walked over quickly, dressed in a spotless white dress, her face full of worry and concern.

Elizabeth stepped back instinctively, dodging her touch.

Victoria's hand froze mid-air, a flicker of surprise and displeasure flashing through her eyes.

Elizabeth looked at her fake face coldly.

In her previous life, if it hadn't been for Victoria stirring the pot and making her resent Alexander so much, she would've never lost it and stabbed him with a fruit knife.

And while Alexander was stuck in the hospital, Victoria "accidentally" dropped a fake abortion report during a visit—right in front of his mother. Hannah had exploded with rage on the spot, accusing Elizabeth of being heartless and cruel.

At the time, Elizabeth had already been torn up with guilt for hurting Alexander. Then Victoria fanned the flames again, and in the middle of a shouting match, she pushed Hannah by accident while trying to shake her off. That push ended up injuring Hannah's back badly—and just like that, her relationship with the entire Blake family collapsed.

All of it. Every piece of that nightmare. Engineered by Victoria.

Hatred coiled like a poisonous vine around her heart. Elizabeth's eyes turned ice-cold in an instant.

Victoria caught that look and her gut twisted. Forcing a strained smile, she said, "Lizzie, why are you looking at me like that? Did you have another fight with Mr. Blake last night? Did he force you again? Don't be scared—just tell me. Michael said he's got your back anytime..."

"Victoria." Elizabeth cut her off, voice frigid and sharp. "Since when does Michael get to meddle in my life?"

Victoria looked stunned, eyes wide, clearly caught off guard. "Lizzie, what are you talking about? Michael's just worried about you! You used to say he's the only one who really gets you, that Alexander is just a heartless monster..."

"That's enough!" Elizabeth's tone was firm, shutting her down completely. "Alexander is my husband. No one else gets a say. And as for Michael—he's got nothing to do with me. Never had, never will. You and he both better get that straight."

Her words crashed down like a thunderclap.

Victoria stared at her, trying to figure out where this sudden change came from.

What the hell was going on? Just yesterday, this idiot was crying about running away with Michael. Now suddenly she's all protective of Alexander? Did something snap in her brain last night?

No—it couldn't be. Elizabeth was always easy to manipulate.

An ugly glint flashed in Victoria's eyes, but on her face, she played the part—looking both hurt and heartbroken. "Lizzie, are you just saying this because Alexander's scared you into it? I know you're hurting. Did he do something to you again last night? That man doesn't know what love means! He just keeps hurting you. Look at the bump on your head..."

She was pulling that move again, trying to provoke her, trying to reignite her hatred for Alexander.

In the past, that would've worked. Elizabeth would've snapped already, lost in her anger.

But not this time.

Now, Elizabeth just watched her silently, almost detached, the corner of her lips lifting into a mocking smirk.

"Victoria," she said calmly, her voice soft but heavy like a storm about to break, "stop the act. Whatever Alexander has done, he's still my fiancé. You keep claiming you're looking out for me, yet all you do is talk bad about the man I'm engaged to. What's your real goal here?"