Chapter 10

Scarlett POV

I carefully chose my words, my heart racing, afraid that saying the wrong thing would lead me into some kind of trap: "I know some, but not much."

Alexander gave a cold laugh, sending a chill down my spine. He seemed to see through my cleverness at a glance, but only said casually: "I need blood transfusions every month,"

His tone was as casual as if he were discussing the weather, which made it even more unsettling.

"It's because of hemophilia. Most people with this condition are diagnosed at birth, but in rare cases, some people only discover it after suffering a severe injury."

I turned to look at him, and suddenly found it hard to breathe, my heart felt as if it were being squeezed by an invisible hand.

He had removed his bloodstained shirt, revealing a torso covered in scars. Some had faded, while others were still fresh and pink.

But what caught my attention was a particularly ugly scar on his ribs—it looked recent, possibly acquired in Afghanistan.

The scar was shocking, and I couldn't help but imagine how it had formed, the pain must have been unbearable.

He noticed me staring at him, and a faint smile curled his lips. "Dangerous, isn't it?"

His fingers slowly traced over the scar, the movement elegant yet cruel. "One wrong move, one small cut, and I could bleed to death."

His eyes stared intently at me, full of meaning. "Just like that night... I could have died in your arms, little wildcat."

I suddenly realized that that night, when I scratched him, fought against him... he could have died.

My fingers began to tremble. Was his hospitalization the morning after that night because of me?

He suddenly reached out and gripped my chin firmly.

"Are you afraid now?" he asked in a low voice, deep and seductive.

I couldn't speak, couldn't move, my heart beating so violently it felt like it might burst from my chest. Fear, guilt, anger, and another emotion I refused to acknowledge—all of these feelings surged within me at that moment.

The nurse focused on the blood transfusion, pretending not to notice our interaction, this deliberate ignorance made me feel even more isolated and helpless.

I sat in Alexander's private hospital room, feeling as though centuries had passed, but it had probably only been thirty minutes.

He lay on the hospital bed, my blood flowing into his veins through the IV, looking irritatingly comfortable.

"Your father, Adam's situation," he suddenly said, breaking the silence. "Has it been resolved?"

I froze, immediately becoming alert, like a startled deer. "Richard is handling it."

"Ah, dear Uncle Richard." His smile was like that of a cheetah discovering its prey's weakness.

"Did you know that the Smith family's last project before bankruptcy was a collaboration with the Horizon Capital Group?"

I didn't answer, my throat tight, an ominous feeling hanging over me.

He continued: "Adam invested one hundred million dollars in that project. If that money could be recovered... it would solve half your problems, wouldn't it?"

I jerked my head up, my eyes widening in shock, my heart pounding furiously.

"What are you saying?" My voice trembled slightly with excitement.

"I'm saying, little wildcat," his voice was gentle, "perhaps you've been asking the wrong person."

An hour later, I watched as Noah helped Alexander change into a new suit.

He transformed from a patient into a sharply dressed business executive. After Noah left, Alexander turned to me, his eyes carrying an order that brooked no refusal.

"Help me with my tie." It was a direct command, without a request, not even a questioning tone.

He had always treated me with this haughty attitude, arrogant enough to make me grit my teeth. If I didn't need his help, I would have lost my patience long ago!

This feeling of powerlessness and forced compromise burned in my chest.

My fingers reached for the silk tie around his neck. Standing so close, I could smell the mixture of his cologne and the hospital's antiseptic.

His chest rose and fell steadily under my hands, warm and strong, reminding me of that night I was trying so hard to forget.

"You're trembling," he observed, amusement in his voice, that all-knowing gaze making me uncomfortable all over.

"You're so different from that night. Then you were bolder... so eager, so passionate..."

My hand twitched as if burned, my cheeks burning hot, anger and shame intertwined.

"Stop it!" I said, almost through gritted teeth.

"Stop what?"

His hand grabbed my wrist. "Reminding you how willingly you came to my bed? How you moaned while making love with me? Or how you betrayed George, whom you liked?"

Each of his sentences was like a whip lashing at my self-esteem, each syllable tearing open a wound I had tried so hard to heal.

"You're a monster," I said softly, tears welling in my eyes, both from anger and shame, and from the pain of memories I couldn't escape.

The worst part was, I didn't know if I was angrier at him for bringing it up, or at myself for not being able to forget it.

This complex emotion nearly tore me apart.

"No," he said softly. "I am the only one who tells you my purpose. Richard, George, Horizon Capital Group... they all have their own agendas. At least I've always been honest with you."

I glared at him, a mixture of anger, shame, and other emotions I didn't want to name churning inside me.

He had ruined my plans, taken my innocence, and continued to coerce and threaten me, and now he had the audacity to stand here and talk like this!

"Why are you telling me all this?"

My voice trembled slightly, from anger, from confusion, and with a hint of curiosity I refused to acknowledge.

His fingers traced my chin, warm and strong, forcing me to lean into his embrace.

"Because, little wildcat, you are the most interesting piece on this chessboard. I want to see what your next move will be."

His words were both hurtful and enticing. I pulled his hand away. "I am not your pawn." My voice was hoarse from suppressed fury.

His laughter was soft yet cruel. "Darling, from the day you became Richard's fiancée, you became everyone's pawn. I'm just giving you a chance to become a player."

These words struck at my deepest fears and desires—I had always been a pawn in someone else's game, and now, he was offering me a chance to possibly become a player.

This temptation was almost irresistible, but how could I trust him?