Chapter 5

CLARA

"I told you to get back in your room!" Gabriel barked again, his voice echoing loudly against the high marble walls. His eyes burned with fierce anger, and a vein pulsed violently at his temple. "Don't look at me, Clara. Turn around and shut that door before I make you regret ever stepping outside."

I stood on the cold stone floor in my bare feet. A chill ran up my legs, but I did not turn around, and I did not run away.

"Did you hear what I said?" Gabriel snarled. He tried to drag himself toward the overturned leather wheelchair, his powerful hands gripping the slick marble for purchase. His broad back tightened with immense strain, his muscles trembling as he fought to haul his paralyzed lower body. "Call the guards if you want to be useful. Better yet, stay out of my sight. I don't need your eyes on me."

I walked forward slowly, my silk nightgown brushing against my ankles.

"Stop right there," he warned, his voice turning deadly sharp. "I am not a spectacle for you to gawk at."

"I am not gawking at you," I said in a quiet, even tone.

"Then leave!" he shouted, his pride cracking under the weight of his rage. "Do you think I want my bought wife looking down at me while I'm helpless on the floor? Is that why you came out? To laugh at the crippled beast who bought your family's debt?"

I reached the spot where he lay and slowly dropped down onto both knees. The cold marble bit into my skin through the thin fabric, a sensation so familiar that my body didn't even flinch. I sat back on my heels, keeping my hands resting calmly in my lap.

Gabriel stared at me in disbelief. His face was flushed with exertion, a dark strand of hair falling over his forehead, almost covering the jagged scar along his cheekbone. "What are you doing?" he demanded, his breathing harsh and ragged.

"I am sitting with you," I answered honestly.

"Get up. I don't want your pity."

"I don't pity you, Gabriel."

"You're lying," he snapped, his fists curling against the floor. "Everyone pities me, or they despise me, or they're terrified of me. Pick one, Clara. You're trembling."

"I am trembling because the hallway is cold, not because I am afraid of you," I replied, meeting his stormy gaze without blinking. "And I don't pity you because falling down is not a crime. Being on the floor isn't shameful."

"You don't know what you're talking about," he rasped, turning his face away from me toward the wall. "You don't know anything about this."

"I spent three days in a dark cellar before my father dragged me to your church," I told him, keeping my voice gentle and steady. "And before that, whenever Evelyn fell ill, or whenever my father lost money on an investment, I was thrown down there for days at a time. The cellar floor was made of rough concrete. It was colder than this marble, and there were no lamps, no blankets, and no one to hear me when I called out."

Gabriel's shoulders stiffened. He slowly turned his head back to look at me, his sharp eyes narrowing as if searching for a lie in my face.

"I have spent hours lying on cold stone, Gabriel," I continued quietly. "Unable to get up because my ribs hurt too much, or because my ankles were bruised. I know the feeling of the floor. There is no shame in it. You just slipped. That's all that happened."

He stared at me, completely speechless. The venom seemed to drain out of his posture, replaced by a quiet, brooding confusion. He had clearly prepared himself for a fight, for disgust, or for hollow sympathy, and my simple words had taken away his ammunition.

"Your elbow is bleeding," I pointed out, nodding toward the red scrape along his forearm.

He glanced down at his arm, dismissing the wound with a faint scoff. "It's nothing."

"Can I help you with the chair?" I asked.

Gabriel looked at the overturned electric wheelchair. It was a massive piece of machinery, constructed with reinforced titanium, heavy batteries, and thick leather cushions. "You can't lift that," he said bluntly. "It weighs over two hundred pounds. You're too thin to budge it."

"I don't need to lift the whole thing," I said, standing up. "I just need to use leverage to tip it back onto its wheels. Show me what to grab."

Gabriel frowned, clearly hesitant to let me touch his equipment. For a man who lived by controlling everything and everyone around him, relying on another person looked like physical torment. But he took a deep, steady breath and pointed with one long finger.