Theodore Zane crept closer, his face split by a twisted, menacing grin. His shirt was already halfway off.
So tired, Cecilia Ye thought. Maybe it’s time to give up.
She’d lived so many happy years already.
With Xavier Foster. With Grandpa Rivers and Grandma Rivers.
There were people who cared for her, who pampered her, and there were always the paintings she loved.
All these years felt like stolen time.
She would never let Theodore Zane touch her.
If he came just a bit closer... She glanced around—the racks in the cold storage still had some old, rusty hooks dangling.
They must have been used for hanging pork in the past.
Summoning the last reserves of her strength, Cecilia Ye waited for Theodore Zane to get distracted taking off his shirt.
She staggered to her feet and lurched forward, grabbing one of the hooks and pressing it against her slender neck.
Her eyes shimmered with tears, but a smile appeared on her pale face.
Xavier Foster, I know you must be on your way. You are, aren’t you?
Even if I die, I want to let myself believe in that little lie.
Theodore Zane glared at her, feral and vicious. "What—want to die? Do you really have the guts, Cecilia Ye?"
"I do. Why wouldn’t I?"
Her voice was broken but resolute.
She’d never let herself be sullied.
Ever since she learned what it meant to like someone, her heart—her eyes—were filled with only Xavier Foster.
The hook pressed a deep red groove into her neck. Cecilia Ye always feared pain, but now she felt nothing at all.
All she worried about was Grandpa Rivers and Grandma Rivers being heartbroken.
Xavier Foster… would you be sad?
I hope you won’t. Forget me, please live well with her.
She closed her eyes, tears trailing down, and steeled herself to press harder.
"Bang!" A thunderous crash split the air, followed by blinding light streaming in from the doorway.
Startled, Cecilia Ye’s hand jerked, leaving a long gash along her neck.
With bleary, tear-filled eyes, she looked over.
The first person to burst in was Henry Hart, and behind him, a swarm of bodyguards flooded in.
They pinned the half-dressed Theodore Zane to the ground, pounding him mercilessly.
Xavier Foster wasn’t there.
The last thought before she blacked out was: Xavier Foster didn’t come.
Henry Hart rushed to catch her as she collapsed.
There were so many wounds across her body, blood streaming from her forehead and neck.
From the look of Theodore Zane, his intent was only too clear.
He scooped her up and carried her out of the cold storage. Just outside the empty warehouse, an SUV screeched to a halt before them.
From the car emerged someone striding rapidly—Xavier Foster. He saw Henry Hart cradling her, but somehow, couldn’t bring himself to step forward and take her.
"President Foster."
Henry Hart’s voice snapped him back—he pulled off his jacket and wrapped it around Cecilia Ye, then gingerly took her into his own arms.
There were so many wounds—her head, her neck, both still bleeding.
Xavier Foster’s eyes burned red.
"President Foster... When we arrived, Theodore Zane had already stripped and was about to—" Even Henry Hart struggled to finish the disgusting thought. "Madam threatened suicide, that’s how her neck got hurt."
A murderous glint flared in Xavier Foster’s gaze. Without a word, he strode into the warehouse and delivered a savage kick to Theodore Zane’s shoulder. The sound of bone breaking was followed by a scream.
"Break his arms and legs. I don’t ever want to see him walk out of prison again."
"Yes, sir."
"Get to the hospital. Now."
He held Cecilia Ye close as they settled into the back seat. Henry Hart drove them straight to the hospital.
In his arms, she frowned deeply. Xavier Foster gently dabbed at the blood on her forehead with a tissue.
Thankfully, the wound on her neck wasn’t too deep. He let out a shaky breath—his fingers still trembling.
He pulled up her sleeve. Her wrist was ringed with raw, bloody welts from where the coarse rope had cut into her.
He thought back to her call—how terrified she’d been. So, so scared.
What had he been thinking then? He hadn’t thought it was anything serious.
He remembered her cries for help, her fear.
That warehouse was so dirty, so foul—Xavier Foster couldn’t bear to imagine what might have happened if Henry Hart had been even a little bit later. The outcome was obvious.
Even if it meant dying, Cecilia would never let Theodore Zane touch her.
She groaned softly in his arms, weak eyes fluttering open.
Everything hurt. Cecilia Ye’s whole body ached.
It felt like she was dreaming. She could have sworn she saw Xavier Foster.
Tears welled up and spilled down her cheeks.
If only Xavier Foster had really come. If only this weren’t just a dream.
Xavier Foster bent down and kissed away her tears, holding her tighter.
Cecilia Ye was rushed to the emergency room; the severity of her head injury still unknown.
Xavier Foster waited outside. He never left her side for a moment.
He couldn’t sort through his tangled emotions. Tall and drawn, he leaned against the cold tiles, in a corridor echoing only with hurried footsteps.
The harsh hospital lighting spilled over him, casting Xavier Foster in a strange, lonely silhouette.
Cecilia Ye woke up in the middle of the night.
Everything hurt; the scene before she passed out still haunted her, making her shake with fear.
The sky was already dark. The only light came from the blue glow of machines beside her bed, their steady beeping filling the room.
She knew she was in a hospital ward.
It was Henry Hart who’d rescued her.
Xavier Foster must be with Vivian Belle—that’s why he didn’t come.
Even when she was terrified on the phone, she could never matter as much as Vivian Belle.
She was so tired—tired of always comparing herself.
Hadn’t she already decided to leave?
She let her tears silently seep down her cheek and coughed a couple of times, uncomfortable.
Someone approached in the darkness, and Cecilia Ye shrank to the edge of the bed in fright.
The bedside lamp flicked on, and that’s when she saw—it was Xavier Foster.
He had stayed. He’d turned off the lights so they wouldn’t shine in her eyes, and rested on the sofa.
The moment she stirred, he’d come to the bed.
He brushed his hand gently over her face, only to realize she was trembling beneath his touch.
"It’s all right now, Cecilia. You’re safe."
He wiped away her tears and sat down beside her.
Cecilia Ye looked up at him, blinking weakly, her voice hoarse.