Chapter 182

Chapter 182

"Does it hurt?" He asked.

Elizabeth shook her head.

He bent his head once more, resuming his actions. His mouth moved downward from her collarbone, over her chest, past her abdomen, stopping at that most private place.

Elizabeth's body tensed sharply. She reached out to push his head away, her fingers threading through his hair, unsure whether she wanted to push him away or pull him closer.

"Jacob," her voice was trembling.

He didn't answer.

He brought his lips to her with a sense of deep respect, a nearly devotional gravity.


Elizabeth's mind went blank. She couldn't think of anything anymore.

She could only feel his lips, his tongue, his fingers, lighting one fire after another across her body.

Those fires burned from her skin into her blood, from her blood into her bones, finally exploding inside her and turning into brilliant fireworks.

She arched her body, letting out a muffled moan.

He lifted his head, looking at her dazed face, a smile slowly curving at the corner of his mouth.

Then he moved over her, entering her body.

This time, he didn't take her violently, almost brutally, like before. Instead, he pushed in slowly, bit by bit, as if testing what she could handle, as if making sure she was ready.

Elizabeth wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his head down to kiss his lips.

His lips were cool, carrying her scent.

They tangled together like two fish swimming in a stream, unhurried, unhurried.

They made love many times.

With every encounter, he showed a tenderness uncharacteristic of his usual self. And each time, she became so absorbed that she seemed unlike her own true nature.
They were like two drowning people, desperately clinging to each other, desperately drawing warmth and security from one another.

In the following days, they seldom stepped out of the room. Jacob postponed all his work commitments, and Elizabeth delegated all responsibilities to Lynx.


They stuck together like newlyweds, inseparable.

Jack was taken away by Tina to play, and the Smith Family was as quiet as a paradise.

They ate in bed, read in bed, talked in bed.

Most of the time, they simply did nothing but embrace, hearing the rhythm of each other's hearts and sharing one another's heat.

Elizabeth felt like she was being spoiled rotten.

She hadn't known before that Jacob could be so good with sweet words.

"Your hair smells like sunshine," he said.

"Your eyes are beautiful," he said.

"I like hearing you laugh," he said.

Whenever he spoke in this manner, his voice was grave, as grave as though he were discussing a matter of great significance.

Elizabeth's cheeks reddened from his praise, and she raised a hand to stop his lips. "What's gotten into you? You've been so chatty recently."

Jacob took her hand and kissed it gently. "Because I said too little before."

Elizabeth looked at him, suddenly feeling an emotion she couldn't quite name.

This man, who was the cold and ruthless mafia godfather in front of everyone else, was like a clumsy boy who didn't know how to express love in front of her.

He wasn't always like this. In the past, he favored showing his feelings through deeds, using a commanding, indisputable manner.
But now he'd changed. He'd become softer, more delicate, better with words.

Elizabeth didn't know why he'd changed, but she liked this change. She liked his gentle gaze, his whispers, the way he treated her like the most important person in the world.

On the morning of the fourth day, Elizabeth finally forced herself to get up. It wasn't because she had grown tired of lying in bed., but because David had called a dozen times, saying that if she didn't come deal with those files, Nightfall would fall apart.

"I have to go," she said as she got dressed.

Jacob lay in bed, watching her, his eyes deep and dark. "Stay a little longer."

"I'm not able to stay," Elizabeth said, fastening the last button before leaning down to give him a quick kiss on the mouth. "I'll return this evening."
Jacob said nothing.

He simply stared at her, his gaze revealing a mix of unwillingness to let go, emotional clinging, and a certain feeling she found hard to interpret.
Elizabeth thought he just didn't want her to leave. She smiled and touched his face.

She picked up her bag and walked out of the room.

The moment the door closed behind her, Jacob's expression changed.

The gentleness was gone, the attachment was gone. Only a cold, spine-chilling coldness remained.

He sat upright, grabbed the bedside phone, and called a number. "Is that item still in the basement?"

Leon's voice came through the phone: "Still there, Mr. Smith."

"Hold on for me." Jacob ended the call and rose to get dressed. He moved swiftly—fastening his shirt buttons, slipping on his watch, and straightening his cuffs. Each movement was crisp and efficient. Facing his rival from a past life, he wanted to present himself at his strongest and most perfect.

When he walked out of the room, the gentle expression from before was completely gone.

He'd turned back into that cold, decisive mafia godfather.

The basement corridor was long, the lighting dim, the air filled with a damp, decaying smell.

Jacob walked slowly, his leather shoes making crisp sounds on the cement floor.

Leon followed behind, holding a ring of keys.

At the innermost iron door, Leon stopped and handed him the keys.

Jacob accepted the keys, placed them into the lock, and twisted. The metal door let out a low noise as it gradually swung open.
This scene reminded him of the iron door that had held Elizabeth, and even more intense anger rose in his heart.

The puppet was carelessly thrown in the corner.

At the sound of the door, a muffled noise emerged from within the puppet—not the clatter of wood, but a person's groan, rough and feeble, as though rising from far beneath the earth

What a bizarre scene. Anyone who didn't know better, seeing this abused thing, something that could hardly be called human, would surely feel pity and fear toward whoever did this.

But Jacob saw Elizabeth's loveliness in this bloody puppet.

Jacob walked over and stood in front of the puppet.

He reached out and pressed his hand against the puppet's chest.

Underneath, a heart was beating. Weak, but real.

"Henry." He called his name softly.

The noise from within the puppet intensified, filled with a terrified, frantic quiver.


The puppet was shaking, making sounds like bones grinding together.

Jacob didn't move. He just stood there, watching it shake, listening to it cry out.

After a long time, the puppet finally quieted down.

The breaths from inside became more labored, akin to a wild animal whose throat is held down, gasping for air but never able to take in enough.

"Do you know why I came?" Jacob's voice was light, as light as if he were coaxing a child.

There was no sound from inside the puppet.

Jacob crouched down, level with it.

"I had a dream. I dreamed she died. Died in a basement, alone, slowly, painfully." He paused, his voice dropping lower. "Do you know what she was thinking when she died?"

A muffled crying came from inside the puppet.

Henry didn't feel remorse; rather, the moment he saw Jacob walk in, a cruel sense of pleasure washed over him.
He wished for Jacob to witness his pitiful condition and to uncover the horrifying monster hidden behind Elizabeth's attractive appearance. But he was destined to be disappointed.