Ch38 - A misunderstanding

Felix ignored the one word that slipped out of Henri’s mouth and barreled into the room, knocking Henri aside.

The sight hit him like a punch.

Lydia’s clothes were in tatters, her neck bare, the swimsuit strap hanging uselessly at her collarbone. Her hands were clamped over her chest like she was trying to hold herself together—like something ripped right out of a nightmare.

His brain went blank and a hot, furious rage climbed from his gut up through his chest. He yanked off his sweatshirt and threw it over Lydia without a second thought.

She looked like she’d been crying—those pearly, tear-streaked eyes—but she didn’t make a sound when he came in, just stood there with her lips slightly parted. The sight of her like that squeezed his heart so tight it hurt.

While Felix was momentarily stunned, Henri tried to slip out the barely-closed door. Clumsy as he was, he’d only gotten half a step when Felix snapped back, dragged him to the floor and snarled, “YOU bastard—trying to run? Tell me what the hell happened!”

Felix was a volcano—veins bulging in his neck.

Henri went white and shook his head. “No—no, it’s a misunderstanding. I didn’t—I didn’t do anything.”

“Didn’t do anything? Like she’d end up like this?” Felix grabbed Henri by the collar. He looked smaller than Henri but his grip was like iron, and in a heartbeat he’d left red marks around Henri’s throat.

“It’s—just—talk to me… I—can’t—breathe…” Henri gasped, frozen by Felix’s fury, fingers going numb. Even trying to twitch made Felix slam him down.

Thud.

“Ow…” The dull crash as body hit the floor and Henri’s cry rang out; his back was on fire. He gritted his teeth,  “What are you doing? I told you—I didn’t do anything!”

He whipped his head toward Lydia, “Say something…or do you want everyone know about this?”

Felix shoved him, leaning his forearm across Henri’s chest and pressing down harder. “You really think we’re scared of you?”

Lydia’s blurry eyes slowly focused. She saw Felix pinning Henri to the ground; Felix’s force made Henri look helpless, beaten.

She didn’t know what to do. She knew Felix would make this right, but if the whole thing blew up, Henri would spill whatever had been said between them. Whether people believed it or not didn’t matter—she couldn’t walk away untouched.

Her lip trembled. She forced out, “Forget it…”

“Forget it?” Felix’s face went from stunned to furious so fast it was scary—his brows knitted into a hard line. “You can’t just say ‘forget it’—what’s wrong with you?”

Henri, gasping, tried to bargain. “She said forget it—so let me go. If this blows up, it’s not me who looks bad.”

That was the match. Felix’s last scrap of reason burned out. He was never the hothead people accused him of being—usually he was all jokes and smiles—but not today. Not this time.

Before he even realized, his fist came down hard.

The blow landed heavy; Henri’s head snapped to the side, stars exploding behind his eyes. His lips parted, limbs numb, words stuck in his throat.

Lydia screamed, then clamped a hand over her mouth.

Felix’s heart hammered; he was breathing hard, but his voice softened as he spoke to her, “Don’t freak out. I’ve got you.”

He was still straddling Henri, fingers fumbling for his phone, not noticing his own hand was shaking. Into the phone he hissed, “Come now—don’t make a scene.”

Lydia looked dazed. She didn’t know who Felix had called, but the moment she saw a familiar silhouette at the doorway she bolted forward and threw herself into that person’s arms, burying her face in his chest and sobbing.

Julian froze. He took in the scene, glanced down at Lydia, and his expression went flat. “What happened?”

Felix spat, furious, “That scumbag tried to assault her while she went up to change!”

Julian’s eyes landed on the man sprawled on the floor—barely conscious, eyes glazed, a red mark blooming across his face and blood trickling from his nose. It didn’t take Julian more than a second to figure out what had gone down.

As Lydia hiccuped and cried, He placed a steady hand on her shoulder and gently eased her back a little. “Take a breath. Calm down first.”

“Can you help her with her clothes?” Julian asked.

Lydia blinked and only then realized Julian hadn’t been speaking to her; he’d been addressing Violet instead. Violet nodded and came over to help. 

She guided Lydia into a quieter corner, picked up the sweatshirt Felix had thrown over, rolled it up from the hem to the neck hole, and slipped it over Lydia’s head. “I’ll hold the robe for you—slide your arms into the sleeves,” she said calmly, kindly, like someone soothing a frightened child.

To Lydia, that calm was almost eerie—Violet wasn’t interrogating or shocked; she was simply watching, unnervingly composed. Lydia kept glancing at Violet, desperate to find some sign that this wasn’t as clean as it looked.

She whispered, “Did—you—figure it out?”

Violet met her eyes. “Figure out what?”

Lydia teetered between certainty and doubt. Violet didn’t snap at her with “What should I have figured out?” or “Do you think I’d notice?”—she simply asked evenly, as if she genuinely didn’t know. 

If Violet really didn’t know, then this was less catastrophic than it could have been—just a terrible piece of bad luck for Lydia.

Back in the room, Julian peeled Felix off Henri and said, “Cool it. Get off him.”

“Cool it? How am I supposed to be cool? I want to tear him apart,” Felix ground out.

“You need to find out exactly what happened first. Knocking him out’s not necessarily the right move.”

“If that was your wife in there, ragged and half-dressed, could you stay calm?” Felix shot back.

Julian’s eyes darkened; his fist tightened reflexively. He called toward the door, “Get ready. When she’s dressed, bring her in.”

Violet led Lydia back into the room.

Nobody had a clear picture of what had occurred, so Julian asked Lydia to tell them in her own words. 

Lydia gripped her arm and said, voice small, “I went up to change. As I opened the door, he grabbed me and pulled me in. I fought, and then—he tried to run, but Felix caught him.”

When she finished, Felix barked, “Call the cops, now!”

“All right—call the police.” Julian reached for his phone.

“No!” Lydia’s panicked, urgent voice cut him off.

The room went silent; everyone turned to look at her.