Chapter 117
No.1
Half an hour later, the chaos in the conference room had dissolved. Tessa had offered to help Elisa back to her room, but Elisa had gently pushed the younger woman away. Leaving the chalet now would look like a guilty retreat.
She needed ice.
Elisa walked slowly down the dimly lit, carpeted hallway of the second floor. Every step sent a sharp, electric jolt of pain radiating from her lower spine up to her neck. The pain was profound, a sickening reminder that her body was breaking under the weight of this family. She kept her right hand pressed firmly against the wall, using the solid wood to keep her body upright.
The hallway was dead silent. The thick carpet absorbed the sound of her uneven footsteps.
As she approached the corner near the staircase,the heavy oak door of the private medical suite suddenly clicked open.
August stepped out into the hallway.
He was alone. He had changed out of his coffee-
No.2
stained suit and was now wearing a thick, black cashmere turtleneck. On the back of his right hand,a pristine white, sterile medical dressing covered the burn.
They both froze.
The narrow hallway forced them into immediate,suffocating proximity. The air between them instantly turned to heavy, toxic lead.
August's dark eyes immediately dropped. He saw the way Elisa was heavily favoring her left leg. He saw her pale, bloodless knuckles gripping the wall,and the unnatural stiffness in her posture.
The physical memory of his shoulder slamming into her chest flashed in his brain.
A dark, uncomfortable twisting sensation flared in August's chest. It was a rare, invasive strain of guilt that he absolutely despised. He was a man who never apologized, but seeing the physical damage he had inflicted on her small frame cracked his armor.
August took a slow step toward her.
No.3
"How bad is your back?" August asked. His voice was low, stripped of its usual mocking arrogance,carrying a stiff, awkward tone of genuine concern.
"I can have the private doctor come to your suite and look at it."①
Elisa stopped breathing. She slowly lifted her chin.She looked at the man who, just thirty minutes ago,had treated her like a physical threat to be neutralized.
She didn't answer his question. Instead, her black,dead eyes drifted downward.
She stared directly at his right hand.
Right on the edge of the pristine white medical dressing, stamped clearly against the sterile fabric,was a bright, crimson half-circle.
It was a fresh lipstick print.
No.4
Allena had kissed his bandaged hand in the medical suite, marking her territory, playing the role of the devoted,heartbroken lover.
The bright red ink looked like a drop of fresh blood on snow. It was the absolute, undeniable proof of their intimacy.
The sight of that lip print acted like a shot of adrenaline straight into Elisa's heart. The physical pain in her spine vanished, replaced by a wave of pure, unadulterated disgust. His guilt was a joke.His concern was a cheap, worthless coin he was
trying to toss to a beggar.
Elisa's lips curved into a razor-sharp, freezing smile. She took a deliberate half-step backward,pulling herself out of his shadow.
"Don't worry about me, Mr. Chambers," Elisa said.Her voice was a flat, icy blade. "We bottom-feeders have incredibly thick skin. We survive."
She threw his exact words from the lobby right back into his face.
No.5
August's jaw clenched instantly. The guilt evaporated, replaced by a hot flash of defensive anger.He hated having his own cruelty mirrored back at him.
He stepped closer, reaching his hand out to grab her arm. "Stop talking to me like that. What happened in the conference room was a reflex.I didn't mean to hurt you."
Elisa violently twisted her torso, dodging his touch.She stared at the red lip print on his hand with overt revulsion.
"A reflex," Elisa repeated, her voice dripping with venom. "Your deepest, most primal instinct was to sacrifice my body to protect hers. That wasn't an accident, August. That was the purest expression
of exactly who you are."
She looked up into his eyes, her gaze burning with absolute contempt.
"Take your fake, secondhand concern and stay the hell away from me," Elisa sneered. "You smell like her, and it makes me sick."
No.6
The words struck August like a physical blow to the chest. His massive ego, already bruised by her rejection, violently rebelled. He had lowered himself to offer her pity, and she had spat in his face.
August's eyes darkened to pitch black. The cold,ruthless billionaire returned.
"Fine," August sneered, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper. "If you want to play the martyr,suffer alone."
He adjusted the collar of his cashmere sweater,restoring his flawless, untouchable posture.
"Tonight is the family's New Year's Eve dinner at the main estate," August commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Fix your face. Put on a dress. And do not embarrass me in front of my mother."③
He didn't wait for her response. He brushed past her, his shoulder intentionally grazing the wall to
avoid touching her, and disappeared down the stairs.
No.7
Elisa leaned her head back against the cold wall.She closed her eyes. She forced the moisture back down her throat.
She pushed off the wall and limped toward the ice machine, letting the physical freezing cold numb the rotting corpse of her marriage.