After Shanni left, the penthouse went dead silent. The kind of heavy that could crush you.
Lu Zhouyue tossed back the rest of his whiskey in one gulp. Let the burn in his throat do its job. He turned toward the king-sized bed. Liulian was buried under the duvet, her cheeks flushed that sick, wrong shade of red that fever brings. Even after the doctors had pumped her full of meds, her breath still came in shallow, broken whistles.
She looked fragile. Helpless. A bird with busted wings.
Lu felt a flicker of self-mockery tug at his lips. Only when she was unconscious did she ever submit. The second those eyes opened, she'd grow thorns and turn into something made of pure, frozen frost.
"Water… please… water…"
Her voice was a dry rasp. A tiny sound that cut through him like a jagged blade. He moved without thinking. Set the glass down. Poured cold mineral water. Sat on the edge of the bed and slid a strong arm under her neck, lifting her against his chest.
He held the glass to her lips. Watched her gulp it down, desperate. When she'd had enough, she let out a tiny, satisfied sigh and let her head fall back against his arm.
She was quiet now. Docile. Her lips, dry and cracked just moments ago, were now damp and shining. They looked like crushed rose petals. Lu stared at them. His pulse hammered in his ears. He couldn't help himself. He lowered his head, let his lips barely brush against hers. Tasted the cool water and the heat of her fever.
His heart started racing. He wanted more. Wanted to take back what had been his three years ago. But just as he leaned in to deepen the kiss, a soft, broken whimper slipped out of her.
"Chris… Chris… please…"
The room went ice cold.
Lu Zhouyue's eyes went dead. The warmth he'd felt seconds ago vanished, replaced by something lethal. Jagged. He pulled back, jaw locked so tight it might as well have been carved from stone. No gentleness. He dropped her back onto the pillows.
She let out a small groan as her head hit the bed, but the fever held her too deep. She didn't wake.
Chris. Always Chris.
That kid? The one from three years ago who didn't have the spine to stand up to one threat? She was still carrying his name like some kind of holy relic? After three years of Lu watching her from the shadows. Three years of wanting her every waking second. And she was calling out for a ghost.
He sat on the edge of the bed. Chest heaving. Rage boiling over. His eyes were dark, predatory, lit up with something dangerous.
Liulian shifted in her sleep. Turned her back to him. The duvet slipped, revealing the pale, cream-colored expanse of her shoulders. Skin he'd just spent an hour washing with his own hands.
When he'd brought her back from the precinct, he'd carried her straight to the bath. Scrubbed the smell of the cold cell and the rain off her body. His hands had shaken as they moved over her delicate curves. He'd watched the doctor give her the shots, watched her limp body lean into him for support.
He'd seen her body twice before. Once, three years ago, when she'd offered herself up like a sacrifice. And once, during her junior year of high school, when he'd come home drunk and nearly taken her by force. She'd fought like a wild animal that night. Her nails had left permanent scars on his memory. Made him back off before he did something he could never undo.
He'd let her fly for three years. A man in his prime, with needs. He'd numbed the hunger with work. With the occasional faceless woman who meant nothing.
But now? Now she was right here. Naked under the silk sheets. Her scent—expensive soap mixed with something that was just her—filled his lungs.
His primitive instincts screamed. He didn't want to take her like this. Vulnerable. Delirious. But the sound of Chris's name had snapped the last thread of his control.
"You want him?" he hissed into the darkness of the room. "Too bad, Liulian. He's dead to you. I'm the only one who exists."
He stood up. Shed his robe. Moved over her.
Didn't care about the fever. Didn't care about the "lessons" anymore. He was going to mark her so deep that the next time she dreamed, the only name she'd know would be his.
The hunger was primal. No pretense of civilization left. A silent, violent reclamation. He pinned her against the silk sheets, his body a dead weight nailing her to the bed. Let the raw, rhythmic pulse of his desire burn through the cold fury that had festered in his heart for three years.
He felt her stir. Even in the haze of fever, her body recognized the invasion. She tried to fight him. Hands pushing weakly against his iron chest. Eyelids fluttering like she might wake up and face her nightmare.
Lu didn't give her the chance.
One brutal sweep of his arm, and the only lamp on the nightstand shattered. The room plunged into suffocating, absolute darkness. He couldn't let her see him. He realized it with a flicker of self-loathing—he was terrified of her eyes. Couldn't take that cold, mocking stare again. The way she took his heart and his pride and ground them into the dirt with a single look.
*Don't stop, Lu Zhouyue.* A voice screamed in his head. *Stop coddling her.* He wanted her. All of her. Not just the warmth of her skin. The very soul she kept locked away from him.
He'd given her three years of "freedom." And what had she done with it? He'd stayed in the shadows of this city. A silent predator watching her every move. Knew every grueling shift she worked. Every design she stayed up all night to finish. Every cent she scraped together for her mother's medicine. Knew the month she almost dropped out because she couldn't afford tuition.
He'd watched her sharp edges get filed down by the brutal reality of poverty. Thought he had the patience to wait until she finally realized that a man like him—mature, powerful, utterly devoted—was her only salvation.
Then came Guo Ziyao.
The thought made his grip tighten on her waist. If he hadn't been in the city tonight, he couldn't imagine the aftermath. The realization hit him like a physical blow: his "indulgence" was hurting her. He couldn't let her bleed in the name of freedom anymore.
*Starting tonight, you stay under my wing.* His breath was ragged against her skin. *Whether you want it or not.*
During her high school years, he'd held back. Respected her status as a student. During her college years, he'd kept his promise to let her fly. But after tonight? Games were over. He'd launch a campaign so relentless, so overpowering, she'd have no choice but to respond. Break her walls until she had no choice but to love him.
At the final, shattering moment, he felt the urge to leave his mark deep inside her. But a shred of logic held. She was still a student. An unplanned pregnancy would destroy her future before he could properly build one for her.
With a low, guttural groan, he pulled back at the last second. His burning release spilled across the porcelain skin of her stomach.
He collapsed onto her. Chest heaving, fighting to steady his breathing. After her initial, instinctive resistance, she'd slipped back into the dark embrace of the fever. A one-sided act of passion. A solitary conquest. But to him? The most intoxicating moment of his life.
"Mr. Lu, it's time. We need to leave."
Shanni's voice—polite, professional—cut through the heavy silence. A sharp knock followed.
"I'm coming," he rasped into the dark.
He leaned down one last time. Fumbled in the shadows to find her lips. Kissed her with desperate, lingering hunger. Then finally stood. Scooped her limp, feverish body into his arms and carried her toward the bathroom to clean her before he disappeared into the night.
The storm had blown through. Left behind a savage California sun that beat down on Los Angeles, turning the pavement into an oven.
Inside the penthouse, though, the AC was cranked. Relentless. Artificial. Cold.
Liulian sat huddled in the middle of the massive king-sized bed. A thin silk sheet clutched around her shaking body. Knees pulled to her chest. Face buried. Silent, jagged tears soaking into her skin. She wanted to scream—tear someone's throat out—but her vocal cords felt shredded. Nothing came out but a broken wheeze.
She knew this feeling. Had felt it three years ago. The strange, cold room. The rumpled silk sheets. The dull, throbbing ache between her thighs. The memories crawled back into her brain like poisonous insects, reminding her with every pulse: *You were taken. Again.*
What was she supposed to do now? Call the cops? Report a rape? To the same department run by Chief Guo—the one whose son she'd just slapped into a coma?
No. She was trapped. She'd just clawed her way out of one fire. Couldn't throw herself into another. If this went public, the scandal alone would drown her mother's fragile heart. She had to swallow the glass. Taste the blood. Pretend nothing happened.
She remembered fragments of the night. The weight of a man. The heat of his skin. She'd tried to open her eyes, to see his face, but he'd smashed the lamp a split second before she could focus. Kept her in the dark. Used the fever and his own brutal strength to break her until she drifted into a black void.
She assumed this was the same person who'd bought her freedom from Chief Guo. So this was the price? Her body for her life? A transaction in the dark. She prayed to a God she didn't believe in that he would never show his face again. That this was a one-time payment.
But even as she tried to rationalize it, the tears kept falling. Like broken strings of pearls. How much courage did it take for a girl to lose everything and still walk out of a room like she was whole?
A polite, rhythmic knock cut through her grief.
The door opened. A middle-aged woman walked in. Calm face. Practiced movements. Looked like a high-end housekeeper, or maybe a private concierge. She carried a set of designer clothes and a pair of matching heels.
Liulian didn't have time to wipe her face. Just stared at the woman through a blur of tears, her breath hitching. This was a five-star hotel suite. Why was there a private servant acting like this was a residence?
The woman walked to the edge of the bed. Placed the clothes down with clinical precision.
"Miss Xu, you're awake." Her voice was pleasant. An emotionless hum. "The Master had these prepared for you. Please change and come out for breakfast."
Liulian didn't move. As the woman turned to leave, Liulian lunged forward. Hand snapping out to grab the woman's sleeve. Her voice came out a jagged shriek.
"Master? Who is he? Tell me his name. WHO IS HE?"
She was hysterical. The thin thread of her composure snapped. Even if she told herself it didn't matter. Even if she promised to forget. She needed to know the identity of the monster who'd claimed her night. Needed to know so she could flee from his very shadow for the rest of her life.
The woman didn't flinch. Didn't even look surprised by the outburst. Just looked down at Liulian's hand, then gave a faint, enigmatic smile.
"Master said… you would find out soon enough."
With a gentle but firm motion, she pried Liulian's fingers off her arm and walked out. The door closed with a soft, final click.