Chapter 0004

“Are you okay, ma'am?” A maid rushed toward me, helping me off the ground. Anger surged through my bloodstream, the bitter taste of vengeance lingering on my tongue. But I knew I couldn’t do a thing — not when Harrison loved her so much, not when the whole world wouldn’t believe a word I said.

I turned to the maid and smiled. “I’m fine. I just have to prepare for work. Please pack my breakfast.”

“But ma’am, there’s coffee all over your chest. It may have burned your skin. Wouldn’t you want to get that checked?”

“I’m fine, don’t worry. It’s just a minor burn. I’ll have it checked when I get to work.” I assured her and walked back to my bedroom. I felt like ripping hair out of my scalp, my skin burning as the cold breeze grazed me.

Yeah. Minor burn.

My feet carried me into the bedroom. I slammed the door behind me, peeling the shirt off my skin and dumping it into the laundry basket. A heavy sigh escaped my lips as I walked into the bathroom.

I guess this was my life now.

Constant humiliation.

Constant embarrassment.

Constant pain.

I closed my eyes and let the cold water cascade down my body, offering a brief comfort. A droplet slid down and landed over the wound, making me wince.

I stayed there a while before stepping out of the bathroom — only to meet Cassian standing in the middle of the room, his eyes cold and stern, burning into my skin. The towel suddenly felt too thin, and the space between us felt suffocating. My breathing stopped.

Six years. Six freaking years, and his gaze still held that same unbearable power over me.

“W-what are you doing here?” I managed breathlessly, my chest tight, each word scraping out of me.

“Your wounds. You didn’t get them treated last night.” His eyes didn’t soften. They just stayed cold — as though he didn’t care. But he did… and I didn’t want him to.

“It’s fine. And like I said last night, it’s not your business.”

He marched forward, each step heavy. “As long as you still fucking breathe, Dusha Moya, you are mine to care for.” He reached me and lifted my chin with his finger, staring deeply into my eyes, my face, my body — and I prayed he wouldn’t see the rest of my wounds.

“Sit.” His command boomed, but I didn’t move.

“I have to prepare for work. I don’t have time for your crazy shit.”

“It’s either you sit, or I force you. Either way, I’ll get what I want. Now fucking sit.”

“Why are you commanding me like you own me?” I snapped, forgetting I was standing in front of my ex in nothing but a paper-thin towel that felt like it could slip at any moment. “You don’t own me.”

I shoved a finger in his face. “I’m engaged! Why can’t you stop these childish games and leave me alone?”

“What I feel for you isn’t childish, Dusha Moya.” His gaze dropped to my finger, burning with an emotion I couldn’t decipher. “And this…” His calloused fingers brushed the gemstone. I immediately pulled my hand back, stepping away. “…is just a minor inconvenience I’ll have to take care of.”

“Don’t you dare touch him. I love him, and that’s all that matters. Now leave!” My voice rose, loud enough to call attention from the hallway — the entire scene scandalous, humiliating. “Don’t ruin the perfect world I worked so hard to build.” My voice softened, tears prickling at the edges.

He stepped closer. His hands curled behind my thighs and around my neck, lifting me effortlessly. My feet left the ground. A startled gasp escaped me.

“Put me down!” I tried to twist out of his grip, but he only tightened it, pinning me in place as he carried me to the mattress and set me down gently.

I tried to stand. “I don’t have time for this. Just let me go, please. I’m already late for work.”

He pushed me back down. My back met the mattress softly. His scent enveloped me, warm and intoxicating, making something hot pool in my stomach. My throat dried.

“Wh-what do you want to do?” I stuttered.

His lips curled into a slow, knowing smirk. Memories rushed in — the shed, his hands on me, the way he made me feel — heat flickered between my thighs.

“You’ve got such a dirty mind, Dusha Moya.”

He reached for the first aid kit and applied ointment to my wounds. His movements were gentle, precise. His warm breath fanned across my skin, sending a shiver straight down my spine. I closed my eyes, unable to watch him touch me — because if I did, I would lose myself.

“Cassian,” I rasped as the ointment grazed my skin again. Something clenched between my thighs. As much as I hated to admit it, he still had control over me. But I knew this wasn’t right. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

He wasn’t even touching the wounds anymore — just tracing lines over my skin, his eyes dark with something sinful.

“We aren’t doing anything wrong, Dusha Moya. I’m just treating your wounds.”

But treating wounds shouldn’t feel this good.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Or do you want me to stop?” His eyes locked onto mine as he traced the ointment dangerously close between my thighs, tossing the cotton bud aside.

“Do you know how much I’ve dreamt of this? How much I’ve missed touching you this way? How much control you have over me? How you invade my thoughts and mess with my reasoning?” His hands drifted lower, each movement leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“Let me go, Cassian…” I demanded — but it came out as a breathy, desperate moan.

No.

I shouldn’t be doing this.

Father wouldn’t want this.

I mumbled and pulled back, his touch lingering on my skin

And then — the squeaking sound of the door filled the air, making Cassian stop in his tracks. A cold voice followed.

“What are you doing?”