Chapter 110
"To the hospital," he said, about to start the car.
"No need. It just looks scary, but it's not that serious," I refused. "I'll just put a cold compress on it when I get back."
He reached out and put his hand on my shoulder. I tried to dodge, but he gripped my shoulder firmly. The force wasn't heavy, but it carried an undeniable authority that wouldn't let me break free.
"Don't move yet," he said in a low voice, fumbling in the car's storage compartment for a small medicine box. He took out disinfectant wipes and ointment. "This might hurt a bit. Bear with it."
I stared blankly as he unscrewed the ointment cap, squeezed a little onto his fingertip, then carefully applied it to my neck.
His movements were unexpectedly gentle, completely at odds with his usual cold and hard demeanor.
The cooling sensation of the ointment eased the burning pain.
"Why do you have these things in your car?" I couldn't help asking.
"Just in case," he answered briefly, focused on treating the wound.
He was silent for a few seconds, then spoke: "Sophia, do you want to hear about Amelia and me?"
My heart jumped, and I instinctively refused, "No."
Whatever relationship he and Amelia had before, it had nothing to do with me now.
But James acted as if he hadn't heard my refusal and started talking on his own. His gaze fell on the night ahead, his voice carrying a distant hoarseness.
"I didn't grow up at the Smith Mansion when I was little, or rather, I wasn't always at the Smith Mansion."
I frowned but didn't interrupt him, though I didn't respond either.
"Back then, my family's business offended a lot of people. One of our competitors went bankrupt due to poor management, and they took all their hatred out on me. When no one was around me, they kidnapped me."
"He originally wanted to kill me, but for some reason, he didn't go through with it. Instead, he dumped me in a place where I knew no one."
"By chance, I ended up at an orphanage."
He paused, his fingertips gently rubbing the skin on my neck, his movements unconsciously softening.
"I was really picky about food back then, and the orphanage food wasn't good. I couldn't eat it, so I grew thin and small. The bigger kids always bullied me and took my things."
"Fortunately, there was a little girl at the orphanage who always protected me, gave me food, and when someone bullied me, she'd stand in front of me. That's how I managed to have a few peaceful days."
Something stirred inexplicably in my heart, like something was about to surface, but I couldn't grasp it. I could only clench my fists.
"Later, I really missed my parents and wanted to go home, so I secretly ran away."
"I had no idea where my home was, so I just wandered around based on vague memories, going days without food or water. My feet were covered in blisters, and every step was excruciating. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore and collapsed by the roadside."
At this point, his voice deepened.
"Amelia saved me. She was passing by with her parents at the time. They took me to the hospital and contacted the Smith family. She basically saved my life."
The car fell silent, but my mind was a mess. A blurry little figure who always followed behind me gradually became clearer in my mind...
My heart jumped. Could it be such a coincidence?
But the James in front of me—cold, domineering, with an aura that kept people at a distance—how could he possibly be that cute little follower from my childhood?
I quickly shook my head, pushing down this absurd thought.
Absolutely impossible.
"Done talking?" I forced a smile, trying to keep my tone flat. "So just because she saved you, you've been giving her special treatment all this time?"
James turned his head, his gaze falling on my face, and said very seriously, "I'm grateful to her. She saved my life. I'll give her what she deserves. As long as she asks and it doesn't violate my principles, I can satisfy her requests."
I raised an eyebrow at him: "So, do you like her?"
The moment this question left my mouth, I was stunned myself.
So even now, I still cared—cared whether his special treatment of Amelia over those years came from love.
James narrowed his eyes: "Probably not."
"What do you mean by 'probably not'?" I didn't quite believe it. "You've known each other so long, and she saved you. You grew up together—you never felt anything for her? Not even a little bit?"
With a life-saving debt there, and growing up together, how could there be no feelings at all?
"No," he answered more firmly this time. "I only feel gratitude toward her, never romantic feelings."
"I'll remember her life-saving kindness forever, but that has nothing to do with liking her."
I stared into his eyes, trying to find some trace of a lie, but his gaze was clear and open.
I didn't know whether to believe him. My heart was in turmoil, and I unconsciously asked the next question: "Then do you like me?"
The moment those words left my mouth, the car instantly fell silent enough to hear a pin drop.
I could even hear my own violent heartbeat, and my cheeks felt a bit hot. I wished I could take those words back.
James was clearly stunned, too.
He looked at me, his eyes complex, with emotions I couldn't read.
After a long while, he finally spoke slowly, his voice carrying some uncertainty: "I don't know."
"You don't know?" I immediately exploded. "James, you actually say you don't know? You jerk!"
My chest was heaving: "You don't want to divorce me, you're forcing me to stay by your side—do you think this is fun?"
James looked bewildered at my scolding, his face full of confusion, his tone slightly flustered: "Sophia, I've never been in a relationship. I don't understand what liking someone means. How does that make me a jerk?"
"You can't call me a jerk just because I said I don't know if I like you."
Seeing him like this made me even angrier.
I turned my face away, not wanting to deal with him: "I'm not talking to you anymore. It's useless—you don't understand at all."
"I'll understand if you tell me!" James persisted.
He leaned toward me. The car's interior wasn't spacious to begin with.
As he leaned closer, the distance between us instantly shrank.
His faint cedarwood scent hit me, enveloping me.
He reached out and grabbed my wrist. The force wasn't heavy, but I couldn't break free: "Sophia, you need to explain clearly."
"I won't!" I turned my face away, struggling to shake off his hand. "Let go of me. I want to go home!"
"If you don't tell me, I won't let go!" He also lost his temper. His other hand simply pressed against the back of my head, not letting me dodge. "We have to clear this up today, or neither of us is leaving."
"James, you bastard!" I reached out to push his chest, but he didn't budge. Instead, he leaned even closer, our noses almost touching.
His breath sprayed on my face, warm, carrying a faint hint of alcohol. His eyes were as deep as a pool of water, locked tightly on me.
I could clearly see his long lashes, his straight nose, and his tightly pressed thin lips.
My heartbeat immediately went out of control, racing as if it would jump out of my chest, and my cheeks burned fiercely.
My struggles grew weaker and weaker. My mind went blank, leaving only his face so close and his burning gaze.
His eyes gradually fell on my lips, growing darker and darker. His Adam's apple bobbed, and his fingers unconsciously tightened.
I could feel his breathing getting heavier, his body leaning slightly forward. The distance between us grew smaller and smaller, so close I could feel the warmth of his lips.
The atmosphere in the car was ambiguous and dangerous. I unconsciously closed my eyes, my heart both panicked and chaotic.