Chapter 33 Not Here, I'm Begging You
"No... no, I didn't! I didn't seduce him!" Caroline's voice cracked as she broke, shaking her head with all the strength she had left.
"He saved me! He was just... being kind! I don't even know anything! I didn't... Alexander, you have to believe me! Please, believe me!"
To Alexander, it was nothing more than a pathetic performance, a clumsy attempt to cover her sins.
"Believe you?" His laugh was cold, his grip on her chin tightening until it hurt.
"With that tear-streaked, pitiful face? With those eyes—those same eyes as Edith's—that were made to lure men? Caroline, I've seen this act too many times."
Her tears broke free now, her fingers weakly trying to pry his hand away.
"It hurts..." she whispered.
"It hurts?" His voice was a blade.
"You still know what pain is? Edith's dead because of you, and you still have the shameless nerve to draw another man in?"
He dropped his head abruptly, closing the space between them.
Caroline's eyes widened in terror, tears trembling at the edge.
What was he going to do?
That fear in her eyes cut into him like glass—and yet, it infuriated him. She could cry calmly in front of another man, but with him, she looked like she was staring at the devil.
And those trembling lips... So close now, all he had to do was lower his head.
Maybe someone else already had.
The thought burned through him, and before he could stop himself, Alexander crushed his mouth against hers.
Caroline's eyes went wide with shock.
It was their first kiss.
Even in bed, Alexander had never kissed her. He had always treated her face like something to despise, as if the thought of kissing her was repulsive. Intimacy between them had always been punishment—never tenderness.
This wasn't a kiss. It was a bite.
He forced her teeth apart, invading with brutal force, and soon the taste of blood filled both their mouths.
Caroline felt like he was trying to consume her whole.
The suffocating pressure made her panic. She shoved weakly at his chest, her strength useless against him. Oxygen drained from her lungs, her vision darkened, her limbs went slack.
Only when she was on the edge of losing consciousness did Alexander pull back—just enough to breathe—his hand still clamped on her chin.
"Does he do this to you too? Hm? That so-called classmate of yours—when you were half-dead, did he comfort you like this? When he touched you, did you look this pathetic? Did it make you feel... better than being with me? At least he wouldn't hurt you, right?"
Each question was a blade, cutting deeper into what was left of her.
She shook her head desperately. "No, no, please... stop..."
"Stop?" His eyes went dead cold.
The fear in her gaze told him exactly what he was in her mind—not a husband, but the worst kind of monster.
That truth snapped something in him.
"Looks like I've been too gentle with you... made you forget who controls your life."
His roar filled the room as he released her chin only to seize the front of her gown.
The rip of fabric split the air.
Caroline's stomach dropped. "No! Alexander! No!" she screamed, curling in on herself, arms clamped tight around her chest.
She tried to shrink away, but her left leg was suspended in its cast, her movements clumsy, desperate, useless—like a fish flailing on the shore.
Her resistance only enraged him further. To Alexander, her pleas were nothing but a shield for Daniel. In his eyes, every flinch was proof she had something to hide—proof she could cry for another man, but not for him.
"What are you hiding from?!" His voice was low, dangerous. He pinned her thrashing hands, his other hand ripping at the hospital gown with ruthless force.
"There's not an inch of you I haven't seen, haven't touched. And now you want to act pure? When you cried for another man, did you forget whose woman you are?!"
"No! No! Let me go! Please! I was wrong! I shouldn't have let him touch me! I shouldn't have cried! I'll never do it again! Please! Not here, Alexander—this is a hospital! I'm begging you!"
Her words dissolved into incoherence, desperate. The thought of nurses walking in—or Daniel returning—was unbearable. She could survive any punishment, but not here, not in front of witnesses.
Now you beg? Too late.
His teeth clenched, his grip brutal.
He forced her down into the bed, her gown now torn in ragged strips.
She could feel his body brushing against her skin, every contact a violation.
The door was half open, the curtains wide. Anyone walking past could see everything.
He was fully dressed. She was in ruins.
In Grandhaven, no one would dare question him. All the shame would be hers alone.
She could already hear the whispers in the upper circles—stories about how she had been "flirting from a hospital bed."
Hope drained out of her.
Her sobs stopped. Her struggle died. She stared at the ceiling light, its glare blinding.
If fighting was useless, if begging meant nothing... then let him tear her apart. This body was already broken. What were a few more scars?
He had stripped most of her gown from her shoulders when, suddenly, his hands stopped.