Chapter 127

Elena's POV

My consciousness returned gradually. First came smell—a familiar scent that wrapped around me, both comforting and alarming. Richard's scent.

I forced my heavy eyelids open. Moonlight filtered through gauzy curtains, illuminating an unfamiliar yet somehow known space. An enormous king-sized bed that I was currently lying in. My gaze drifted to a massive walk-in closet with its door slightly ajar, revealing rows of tailored suits.

Holy shit. This was Richard's bedroom.

My heart lurched into a frantic rhythm. What the hell was I doing here? The last thing I remembered was Richard rescuing me. But I seemed to have messed something up.

The bedroom door swung open. I froze, instinctively holding my breath as Richard stepped in. My body tensed, but I couldn't bring myself to look directly at him.

He approached the bed. I kept my eyes averted as he leaned down, his face hovering close to mine. I felt his hand on my forehead as he assessed my condition.

"Your temperature is normal, don't worry, you'll be fine," he reassured me.

I finally risked a glance at him. His expression was unreadable, giving nothing away.

Richard straightened and moved to pour water from a crystal carafe on the nightstand. "Drink," he commanded, holding the glass out to me.

I tried to sit up, but a searing pain ripped through my abdomen. An involuntary growl of pain escaped my throat as I fell back against the pillows.

In an instant, Richard was there, his arm sliding behind my back with unexpected gentleness. He supported my weight effortlessly, arranging pillows behind me.

"Where does it hurt?" he asked, his tone deceptively casual.

"My stomach," I admitted, voice raspy from disuse.

His lips curved into a cold smirk. "Next time, be even braver. Rush headlong into danger. That way you can be done with everything permanently."

I understood his biting sarcasm for what it was—anger masking concern.

After taking a few sips of water, I gathered my courage. "Why did you bring me back here?" The question came out more vulnerable than I intended.

Richard's laugh was sharp and humorless. "Would you have preferred to stay with another man?"

"No!" I blurted. "I just... didn't think I'd be allowed to come back."

I thought he would hate me. The forum's hot topic... was caused by my book.

Something complex flickered across Richard's features before his expression hardened again. "I did it for the children," he stated flatly. "Nothing more."

Before I could respond, he leaned closer, his presence overwhelming. "Listen carefully. If you try to sneak away again, I promise you'll face serious consequences."

His face was grim and cold, those chiseled features looking almost frost-covered in the room's soft orange light. There was no doubt he wasn't joking.

But he was only forbidding me from leaving the estate? No mention of Victoria or Emily or the book?

Richard abruptly ended our conversation, placing the glass on a side table. He strode to the closet, pulled out a dark bathrobe, and disappeared into the bathroom without another word.

I stared after him, completely bewildered by his behavior. This wasn't the explosion of rage I'd expected. Something wasn't adding up.

Not long after, my hearing picked up voices downstairs. Footsteps approached. Anna appeared in the doorway, accompanied by a woman I'd never seen before—slender with short chestnut hair and sharp, assessing eyes.

"Oh!" Anna's surprise was evident. "You're awake, Ms. Winter."

The woman approached without greeting, her gaze sweeping over me with cold efficiency.

"This is Emma Wells," Anna explained. "She's the one who treated you."

Emma set her medical bag on the edge of the bed. "Remove your shirt. I need to examine the wound."

Her brusque manner caught me off guard. "I—"

"I wasn't called here in the middle of the night for small talk," she said impatiently.

Anna stepped forward apologetically. "Dr. Wells, Ms. Winter is actually a doctor herself—"

"I don't care if she's a physician," Emma cut her off, turning to me with narrowed eyes. "Right now, you're my patient. Not a colleague."

I lifted my shirt without further protest. Emma's hands were clinical but unnecessarily rough. Without warning, she pressed firmly against my wound.

White-hot pain exploded through me. My back arched as I gasped, cold sweat instantly beading on my forehead. Anna moved to intervene, her face filled with concern.

The bathroom door slammed open. Richard emerged, wearing only a towel around his waist, water droplets still clinging to his muscled chest and shoulders. His hair was wet, his expression thunderous.

"Enough!" he barked, his command reverberating through the room.

Emma immediately withdrew her hands, straightening. "Just confirming there's no internal bleeding," she said smoothly. "The wound has started to heal."

Anna hurried to help me, her touch gentle as she pulled my shirt back down. "Are you alright?" she whispered.

I nodded, still breathing hard through the pain. But my attention was caught by something else—the way Emma's gaze lingered on Richard's half-naked form. As if she'd seen him this way before.

Richard noticed it too. His expression morphed from anger to disgust, his lips curling in obvious disdain. He disappeared back into the bathroom, slamming the door with enough force to rattle the frame.

When he emerged again, he was fully covered in the dark bathrobe, his posture rigid with irritation.

"Is there anything else?" he asked Emma, his voice dangerously quiet.

"No," she replied, collecting her things. "Nothing else."

"Then you can leave. Now."

Emma's eyes widened, matching my own shock at his harshness. Despite my dislike of her rough treatment, his dismissal seemed excessive.

"Richard," I began, "she was just—"

"I just looked at you," Emma interrupted, addressing Richard with surprising familiarity. "Is that such a crime now? Haven't I seen less of you before? When did you become so prudish?"

I felt like I'd been doused in cold water. The implication was unmistakable. A hint of jealousy spread through my heart.

Richard's voice dropped to an arctic register. "One more word, and I'll have you thrown out of this house."

Emma held his gaze for one defiant second before finally submitting. But at the doorway, she paused.

"Just a friendly warning," she said, looking pointedly at me. "She's a ticking time bomb. Think carefully about what you're doing. I don't want to spend another eight years saving you."

With that cryptic statement hanging in the air, she left. Anna followed, closing the door softly behind them.

I sat frozen, my mind racing with questions. Eight years? Saving him? What the hell had happened between them?

Richard ignored my questioning look. He simply locked the bedroom door, returned to the bathroom, and moments later, I heard the whir of a hair dryer.

I sank back against the pillows, my wound throbbing in time with my confused heartbeat.