Chapter 134 Chapter 134
It was the first time she had made such a gesture toward him since the incident. He quickly stepped aside to let her pass through the doorway and asked, "What kind of book are you looking for?"
As he spoke, he led her to the wall of bookshelves. Turning back to face her, he added in a conciliatory tone, "Come pick one out yourself. Take whatever you like. You know I don't care for these things anyway—they're just for show."
She didn't respond, merely stepping forward to slowly scan the books on the shelves, occasionally pulling one out to glance at it before placing it back.
Benjamin said nothing more, stepping back to lean against the desk and watch her in silence.
Since that incident, she had remained outwardly calm, but he knew the fear she suppressed beneath that composure.
She’d been suffering from insomnia and relying on sleeping pills to fall asleep at night.
This pained him deeply, yet he felt utterly helpless.
He desperately wanted to embrace her, to comfort her, and to whisper, "Don't be afraid. I'm here.”
But he had no right to do so. After all, he was the perpetrator, the very source of all the pain she endured.
He had believed that by forgetting the past, it could be erased—like a festering wound that had suddenly been lanced open, exposing its ugliness to them both.
But it turned out that he remembered everything so clearly—the revolting things he'd done to her and the revolting words he'd spoken.
Back then, because he didn't love her, he didn't care, and he trampled and humiliated her without restraint.
Now, just thinking about those things made his chest tighten with pain.
If he felt this way, how did she feel?
How could she not hate him? How could she possibly forget?
She simply didn't speak. She had learned to be silent.
The only exception was the night she was brutally assaulted and beaten by Clarence. In her dazed state, she asked him, "Are you satisfied?" Since then, she had never accused him again.
He feared her silence.
He would rather she argue with him, fight with him, or even lunge at him to beat him up than endure this silence.
She stood less than several steps away from him, yet he knew she was worlds apart.
All the closeness and warmth he thought he'd experienced were self-deception.
He stood watching her, his eyes unconsciously welling up.
He was a cruel and vicious man, harsh with others and himself. Since living alone, he hadn't shed a single tear. Yet, in that moment, he wanted to crouch down, bury his face in his hands, and weep.
She stood before the bookshelf for a long time. Finally, she selected a thick dictionary, cradled it in her arms, turned to him, and said, "I'll take this one. Reading it will help me fall asleep."
Benjamin forced a stiff smile. Wanting to prolong their conversation, he asked, "Why this one?"
Grace glanced down at the book and replied softly, "It's a habit from school. Memorizing it always makes me sleepy.”
He chuckled. "I'll give it a try later."
She didn't speak, only lifting the corners of her mouth slightly before walking out with the book. He followed her, finally unable to hold back at the doorway. "Grace."
He called her name and stepped forward, pressing against her hand on the doorknob. Drawing close behind her, he waited a long moment before saying in a rough voice, “I'm sorry. Can we forget about those things? Please.”
Grace remained silent for a moment before patting his hand lightly. "Benjamin, let's both look forward."
The words were simple, but putting them into practice was anything but easy.
That night, he moved back into their bedroom to sleep beside her. The moment his hand brushed hers, she flinched and pulled away involuntarily.
He froze, withdrew his hand, and remained silent for a long moment before his hoarse voice came out. "Sleep soundly. I won't touch you."
She curled into a ball and slept with her back to him. Yet, in the dead of night, she suddenly threw herself into his arms. She clutched his neck tightly and buried her face deep into his chest.
Before Benjamin could feel any joy, he heard her sob, "Adrian, I'm scared. He's coming back! He's coming back!"
Benjamin froze instantly, his hand suspended in midair. After a long moment, it lowered to pat her slender back. "It's okay now," he murmured softly.
Emerging from her nightmare, she seemed to realize that this embrace wasn't the one she sought. Her sobs ceased, she released her grip, and she withdrew from his embrace. "Thank you," she whispered.
Her voice was low, calm, and restrained as she rolled back into bed and wrapped herself tightly in the quilt.
And this was only the beginning.
Her body instinctively rejected his touch. As the scars slowly faded, his desire to draw near her became unbearable. Yet her body would stiffen uncontrollably, remaining cold and unyielding no matter how hard he tried to warm or soften her.
He tried teasing her with his lips and tongue, kissing her body tenderly inch by inch, but her form remained rigid and cold.
She told him they needed to move forward, yet she remained trapped in that night.
Benjamin was in agony, utterly helpless.
Michael had long since returned from Mexico. Seeing the two torment each other, he once advised Benjamin to let Grace go. "It seems Ms. Hill isn't willing to build a life with you. She just can't forget what happened. Why not let her go for now? Give it a couple of years and let things fade. Perhaps then she'll forget. When you pursue her again, you might just win her heart."
Reason told Benjamin that Michael was right, yet he dared not let go. Not even for two or three months, let alone years. Grace would leave, vanish far away, and never return. Yes, he was a selfish bastard. He'd rather watch her wither away in his arms than see her find joy with another man.
“Forget those things, okay? Please, Grace, forget the past. Pretend we just met.” He'd pleaded with her like this countless times. She'd always respond calmly. "Okay," she'd say, making a conscious effort to adjust herself. Yet beneath his attempts, she remained as rigid as ever, growing stiffer with each one. Once, when he touched her, she retched uncontrollably and vomited until she was blinded by the darkness.
This was her body's instinctive revulsion—the truest expression of her inner self, a raw emotion that her hatred and reason couldn't suppress.
Her reaction shattered all his guilt. Despair gave way to unhinged rage. Gripping her shoulders tightly, he gritted out, "Grace, what more must I do to let go of the past? Huh? Tell me. What would satisfy you? I killed Clarence. I wiped out his entire family. What more do you want? Yes, I hurt you. Take your revenge. Have someone rape me. Is that what you want? I'll let you find someone to torture me. Would that make you feel better?"
He got up to open the door and shouted downstairs, "Michael! Come up here!"
Michael had heard every word of their argument outside. Hearing the call, he timidly climbed the stairs and nervously called out, "Mr. Norman..."
Benjamin's eyes blazed with fury as he roared, "Get in here!"
Michael could only inch his way inside. Benjamin was already screaming like a madman, "Come on, fuck me! Fuck me in front of her!"
Michael was frozen with fear, unable to move.
Benjamin turned to Grace, who sat motionless with her eyes downcast. He snarled, "Does Michael not satisfy you? How about one of those street bums? Michael, go find someone outside—the dirtier and rougher, the better!"
Michael couldn't possibly do that. He looked at Grace for help. "Ms. Hill..."
“Fine! You won't listen to me either.” Benjamin gritted his teeth. "I'll go myself. I'll go myself!"
He started walking out the door. Terrified, Michael rushed to grab him from behind and drag him back forcefully. He turned to Grace and pleaded desperately, "Ms. Hill, please! Stop this cold war with Mr. Norman! Talk to him!"
Grace finally lifted her gaze to Benjamin, her expression calm, almost indifferent. "Alex, I did my best.”
Yes, she had really tried her hardest.
From the moment she knocked on his study door that night, using a book loan as an excuse to show affection, she had resolved to endure everything. She told herself she had to persevere for the sake of revenge.
But it wasn't that she didn't want to; she simply couldn't. The very notion of revenge could no longer sustain her.
What good would killing Benjamin do?
Wouldn't selling her body and soul to achieve mutual destruction with him just mean continuing their entanglement in hell?
Her once unbreakable will had slowly crumbled, and she had lost control of her body.
Benjamin gradually cooled from his fury. He froze, staring blankly at her. After a long moment, a cruel smile touched his lips. He murmured softly, "Grace, I won't let you leave. Even in death, you will die in my arms.”
Her expression remained serene as she replied, "Fine."
He no longer attempted to touch her. In fact, he began to ignore her entirely.
They lived under the same roof yet existed like complete strangers, offering each other no acknowledgment.
He continued his daily routine, leaving early and returning late. She, too, grew profoundly quiet, abandoning even the slightest thought of revenge.
She lived, perhaps only because she was still alive.
Until one day when Vania suddenly called her. Hesitating, she asked, "Is what they said true?"
Grace chuckled softly and countered, "What did they say?"
Vania, who was also intelligent, sensed that the question was better left unasked. After a pause, she asked, "Want to go shopping together?"
Grace was surprised by this unexpected invitation, but she didn't want to intrude on her friend's life or drag anyone else into danger. She declined with a smile. "No, thanks. I've been feeling lazy lately. I don't feel like going anywhere.”
Vania fell silent. After a long pause, she asked, "Can we ever go back to how things were?"
Grace couldn't help but laugh. “Vania, I stole your fiancé. "
“That bastard was the one who dumped me!" Vania cursed, pausing only briefly before her anger flared even brighter. "Forget it. I must've lost my mind calling you! When it comes to men, friendship is worthless! Grace, since we're done, let's settle everything from before. Every penny of that money I bailed you out with—you're paying me back every last cent. And those photos I left with you back in school? Find them and give them back. Cut every single one of our group photos in half—we each get our own piece."
These demands were clearly childish and born of spite. They sounded less like best friends cutting ties and more like lovers breaking up. Anyone hearing this would likely burst out laughing. But Grace didn't laugh. In fact, she frowned slightly. She hadn't used Vania's money. Although Vania had given her a bank card before fleeing to the United States, Grace hadn't withdrawn a single cent from it.
Vania couldn't be speaking recklessly, nor could she be trying to extort tens of thousands of dollars from Grace. If she was saying this, then she must have another motive. Confused, Grace agreed, "Alright, I'll return everything."
She hung up, sat silently for a moment, then dialed Benjamin's phone. He answered almost immediately but remained silent for a few seconds before asking in a detached tone, "What is it?"
"I want to go home. Vania wants some old things, and I'll go find them for her," she replied.
He paused before answering, "I'll have Michael go with you."
Michael quickly returned to the apartment and drove Grace back to her parents' place. She dug out her college photo albums and flipped through them, searching for pictures of Vania.
There were quite a few photos, but even more were pictures of her and Adrian together.
Grace leafed through them slowly. Before she knew it, a smile curved her lips. Back then, they were so young. Back then, Adrian still loved her and stood by her side.
Outside, the sky darkened and the figures in the photos blurred. She reached for the bedside lamp. As the light flickered on, her gaze fell on an ornament on the nightstand. She froze, suddenly startled.
It was a palm-sized porcelain doll—a smiling, beaming little boy. It was the very same doll she had stuffed into her mother's suitcase before fleeing, determined to bring it to Adrian.
Grace's hands trembled as she grabbed the doll for a closer look. When she saw the tiny black speck on the doll's brow, a flaw almost imperceptible, tears suddenly welled up.
This was the doll that Adrian had bought for her. This doll represented Adrian.
She couldn't help but cry and laugh at the same time. Afraid that Michael in the living room might hear her, she dared not make a sound, pressing her hand over her mouth with all her strength to stifle the noise.
Adrian was still here. He hadn't truly left.
He was right beside her.
Michael had been waiting outside for a long time without hearing any sound from Grace and was growing concerned. He approached the door and knocked lightly, calling out, "Ms. Hill?"