Chapter 4

The plea shattered Alistair's pride.

Geri's eyes widened. All these years, no matter how she had tried to break him, Alistair had never once bowed his head. Even when she had ground him into the dirt, his eyes had still burned with defiance, and his spine had stayed straight.

Back in that hellish senior year of high school, when a group of boys had "accidentally" stomped on his arm and broken it, Alistair hadn't shed a single tear. When he had scored in the top 50 nationwide on the SAT and applied to various prestigious colleges, only for her to tear the applications to shreds, he'd only clenched his fists.

When she had ruined his respectable jobs, forcing him to beg and busk on the streets, he still hadn't begged for mercy. Even when she had sent him to prison, all he had said was, "Let Corey go. I'll atone for everything."

But now, Alistair was kneeling at Geri's feet, his bony hands fawningly clutching at her pants. His posture wasn't just humble—it was downright degrading.

Geri should've felt nothing but satisfaction. Instead, an inexplicable rush of anger surged up in her chest. She had to force herself to take several breaths before she could twist her lips into a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "That's not how you beg, Alistair."

She bent down, a mixture of probing and hatred flickering in her gaze. "Satisfy me. I want to see if a man like you has any limits."

Geri was certain that Alistair was just putting on an act. After all, he knew that she had once adored him more than anything. She figured that he was now pretending to be all fragile and pitiful to wring sympathy from her.

To her surprise, he suddenly began taking off his clothes. It wasn't until his lips brushed lightly against hers that she realized what he was doing.

For a man, Alistair was painfully inexperienced with this kind of thing. His movements were awkward to the point of being clumsy; it was as if he were trying to imitate the way Jonah usually attended to Geri.

She couldn't resist him. Her body yearned to lean in and respond, but hatred snapped her back to her senses. The next second, her palm cracked hard across his face.

Alistair's head snapped to the side, but he quickly turned back to her, his eyes dull and lifeless. "Ms. Winslow, did I do something wrong?"

Of course. Everything about this was wrong!

She sneered. "I had no idea that being evil wasn't enough for you. You're cheap right down to your bones! Do you know what I was doing when you pushed my mother down the stairs? I was lying on an operating table, getting treatment for my throat, which had become scorched while I was saving you.

"Do you have any idea how much it hurt? It hurt so much that when I faced you, I couldn't even get a single accusation out. Alistair, how badly did I wrong you for you to be so determined to kill my mother?"

Right before Geri had been wheeled into the operating room, she'd been the one comforting Alistair, telling him not to worry about her.

When she heard the doctor say that the surgery was a success, the first thing she thought about wasn't that her voice was back to normal—it was that this would finally ease the crushing guilt weighing on Alistair.

But when the anesthesia had worn off, the first thing she had woken up to was devastation. Margaret was critically injured; Alistair had turned on her.

It had been a bolt from the blue.

Geri had refused to believe it, but the security footage was hard evidence. Thus, she'd been forced to accept it.

Alistair kept his gaze lowered, silently enduring the gnawing pain in his stomach.

Only after Geri was done speaking did he lean in again, carefully pressing his lips to hers. "Ms. Winslow, if I make you feel good this time, please remember to sign that letter proving I'm gainfully employed."

He wanted to tell Geri that she wasn't the only one who had suffered, but he didn't.

This time, Geri responded to him. Her kiss was punishment, coming down on him like a sudden, violent storm. Alistair was inexperienced, so she quickly had his breathing all tangled up, and his hands clung helplessly to her back.

Just when he thought he was about to suffocate, Geri finally granted him a small gasp of air. "What's wrong? Weren't you being all promiscuous earlier? If you want that letter, then get dirty for me!"

With that, she stole his breath all over again.

Alistair's brows knitted tight. He thought he must've gone insane a moment ago, to have actually done something like this to Geri.

"Don't move." Her voice snapped like a whip.

He struggled hard, and in the chaos, his hand yanked at one of her spaghetti straps, snapping it. Then, the moment his fingertips brushed the uneven scar tissue on her back, his whole body went limp.

That palm-sized scar was from the day Geri had dragged him out of the burning equipment room, taking the full force of a deadly blow meant for him.

Alistair stopped struggling. A bitter ache spread through his chest. Even though Geri had given him hell, he didn't have the right to hate her.

When Geri sensed Alistair's tears, she halted her assault. He rarely cried, so she simply stared at him. On some strange impulse, she lifted her hand, wanting to wipe away those infuriating tears.

Right then, the door burst open.

Jonah stood frozen in the doorway, his eyes wide as he stared at them. "You… You two…"

He then turned and stormed off in anger.

"Joe!"

Geri shot to her feet to chase after him, but Alistair caught the hem of her clothes. "Ms. Winslow, my employment verification."

She looked back over her shoulder, her long lashes casting a shadow of pure loathing over her eyes. "Do you think you're more important than my boyfriend?"

She yanked her clothes from Alistair's grasp, her next words landing on his chest like a sledgehammer. "Stay here. My boyfriend's going to need something to take his anger out on.

Alistair smiled bitterly and fished out two cheap painkillers. He swallowed down the sticky sweetness threatening to spill out of his mouth.

A punching bag, huh? Fine. He might just be able to hold out after taking these painkillers.