Affair Offer

[JEANNE’S POV - Flashback]

I saw Edgar leave again the next morning. I didn’t like it, but stopping him was never an option. He only ever came to check that I was still in his house—never bothering to ask directly. I had grown used to it. But this time, his expression was tenser than usual. He paused to speak briefly with the house guard before disappearing.

Was he looking for a fugitive? The thought crossed my mind as I glanced toward the unconscious man in my room, still motionless.

The minor surgery to relieve his pneumothorax had been successful. With no other serious injuries, I had decided to let him stay—just until he was well enough to leave.

I returned to the kitchen to prepare a simple breakfast. Living alone, I never made much. As I chopped fresh vegetables for a salad, my thoughts churned restlessly, and a familiar heaviness settled over me. Distracted, I barely noticed how carelessly I was handling my knife—until the sound of approaching footsteps snapped me back to reality.

My grip tightened instinctively, and I spun around—only to be caught off guard. The stranger moved fast, seizing my wrist, twisting the knife from my hand, and shoving me against the kitchen table.

“Ahk!” I winced as he pinned my hands above my head, the blade now in his grasp. My pulse pounded as fear overtook me. Had I made a mistake saving him?

“I didn’t expect to be attacked by the doctor who saved my life,” he murmured, sounding far too composed for someone who had been at death’s door.

“You were sneaking up on me. That’s suspicious,” I shot back.

“And you attacked me.”

“Because you’re a stranger.”

“Yet you took a stranger into your home. Into your room.” His gaze sharpened. “Won’t your husband be angry?”

I yanked my hand away forcefully. He handed me my knife and stepped back toward the dining table.

"Were you awake when my husband came?" I asked, still gripping the knife warily. He didn’t seem like he intended to attack me—or do anything to me, for that matter.

He nodded. "I've been awake since morning, thanks to your VIP-level care."

"You should be grateful he didn’t come into my room. If you’ve recovered, leave quickly."

"How cruel. At least let me catch my breath after nearly losing it with my damaged lungs."

I said nothing and resumed chopping vegetables.

"By the way, you and your husband don’t share a room?"

I turned to him coldly. I didn’t like him prying into my private life.

"You said ‘my room’ yourself," he continued. "That means your husband has his own, right?"

"He’s just very busy and rarely comes home. Rather than disturb me while I rest, he keeps a room full of his work."

"What does he do?"

"He’s a police captain. He leads the crackdown on a gang that’s been terrorizing the city. It keeps him occupied."

His gaze shifted to the table. "Then what’s all this? A wedding anniversary celebration?"

I followed his eyes and realized the room still had party decorations. He chuckled, then pointed at the unopened wine bottle. "But this is still sealed. Did the party happen or not? Or was your husband too busy?"

Annoyed, I snatched the bottle from his hand. "You don’t need to ask about my private life."

"You sound angry. Offended, even."

"My husband is faithful to his vows. I’ve never complained because I understand his job." My voice tightened. "And you don’t need to know if we celebrated our anniversary, if he came home, or if he even cares enough to notice I’m pregnant!"

I froze.

I had said too much.

He laughed, amused by my outburst.

"Sorry, I couldn’t help it," he said, still chuckling. "But I appreciate the honesty. Feels good to have someone listen, doesn’t it? Since you don’t have anyone else to talk to, I’ll be a good listener."

His words cut deep. But I couldn’t deny the truth in them.

"You have good intuition," I said, stepping back into the kitchen. He followed behind me.

"Why? Because I guessed your story right?"

I didn’t answer and let him lean against the counter. His upper body was wrapped only in the bandages I had applied, his muscular frame on full display. He wasn’t as tall as Edgar, but his broad shoulders and lean waist gave him a solid, powerful look. His well-defined abs showed how well he maintained himself.

"You had a lot of guards outside, yet you slipped away in the middle of the night with no one nearby. You ran away, didn’t you? Did your husband lock you in this house?"

I said nothing, letting him continue.

"You must be lonely, stuck here in a house this big, while your husband is out meeting problems… and people. A lot of people. A lot of beautiful women. Aren’t you jealous?"

His words made me think of Hellena Trouve—the brave, striking policewoman everyone said would have been a perfect match for Edgar. My chest tightened, but I pushed the thought away.

"Don’t you think he has someone else?"

"Enough." My voice was sharp. "Why are you so obsessed with my marriage? If my husband keeps me here, that’s none of your business. It’s my private life!"

"You’re right. I wouldn’t understand something like that, so I must sound annoying," he said, though he clearly had no regrets.

I almost regretted saving him, yet despite my coldness, he only moved closer.

"I’m sorry, doctor. I was only trying to help. It’s my way of thanking you," he said, his voice smooth. "If your problem is a husband who seems cold—who acts like he doesn’t love you anymore—I know how to fix that."

Something about the way he said it made me pause. No, I was interested, and he noticed.

"Are you curious?" His lips curled into a smirk. "I know how to make your husband care again. Or at the very least, I can help you find out if he still loves you."

"How?"

He laughed. I knew it was ridiculous—if I were in his place, I would’ve laughed too. But I did want to fix my marriage.

Then, just as I was waiting for his answer, he gave me the most absurd solution, his smirk sharp and dangerous.

"What if you have an affair with me?"

"ARE YOU CRAZY?"

I slapped a hand over my mouth, shocked at my own outburst. I was angry, offended—did I look like the type of woman who could be seduced so easily?

"No, you don’t," I said, "but I might be crazy because I let someone like you into my room. GET OUT!"

I glared at him, fuming, but he was maddeningly unbothered. It made me question his sanity.

"Men hate losing, doctor," he continued smoothly. "And losing to someone like me? That would be an unbearable insult."

"What? Who do you think you are?"

"I’m Hector," he said simply. "You don’t need to believe me now. A first meeting isn’t enough for that. But by the second, you’ll know who I am. And by the third…" His smirk deepened. "You won’t be able to walk away from me."

I scoffed, dismissing his words as drunken arrogance. But the sharp, knowing look in his eyes made me wary.

Then he smiled and stepped away.

"I don’t think kindness should be repaid with money, doctor," he said. "So I’m offering something bigger—a favor. Just say my name, wherever you are… and I’ll come to you."