CHAPTER 116: VIOLENCE (PG)

"Why do you seem... different?"

Alice told him, her voice a little unsteady, "Do you expect me to still remain the same?"

He looked at her, a searching frown on his face as if he couldn’t quite place what was wrong. The confident mask she wore was a stark contrast to the person he was used to.

He released her from the wall, but his hand shot out to grip her chin, holding it firmly.

He scoffed. "You must have really lost your mind since you got married. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have shown up here in front of me." His eyes dropped to her lips, a cruel smile forming. "Unless your rich husband isn’t satisfying you enough in bed and you missed... my touch."

The words hit her like a gunshot.

Missed... his touch?

Her heart stumbled. Breath caught.

W-What?

She stared at him, trying to compute.

Priscilla’s secret son and Aurora...?

No.

No, that couldn’t be.

Even if she barely knew her sister, there was no way...

He smirked at her silence, mistaking it for something else... shame, maybe.

"I always knew you were a good liar," he murmured. "Acting like you never wanted it. Now, look at you in front of me."

Alice froze.

Her stomach twisted.

What the hell did that mean?

A sick realization began to crawl under her skin.

Was this... was this a sexual assault situation?

Did he force himself on Aurora?

She decided to try it, to play along with this new, dangerous game. She met his gaze with feigned fury.

"I didn’t want it," she whispered, but with a raw anger that was all her own. "You forced yourself on me and I am going to make you regret it."

Nicholas’s eyes, which had been so cold, widened for a split second. He searched her eyes, a strange flicker of... something she couldn’t name before he threw his head back and laughed. It was a loud, bitter sound that echoed in the luxurious office.

He let go of her chin but turned his back to her, moving toward his desk and sitting like a man holding all the cards.

He folded his arms, his posture relaxed, but his gaze was all menace. "And what are you going to do about it this time?" he asked, the mockery thick in his voice. "Tell your bastard husband that you had a good time with your ’bro’?"

Rage, pure and undiluted, consumed Alice. It was a searing fire that burned away her fear, leaving only a cold, hard resolve.

Aurora had been... sexually assaulted.

By this unrepentant monster.

Hot tears began to sting her eyes, but she held them back, clenching her jaw. She couldn’t let this animal see her cry. This was more than just a power play; it was a sick, twisted history.

"You animal," she bit out, her voice dangerously low. "Do you really think I can’t get back at you? You think you can ruin my life and go on living yours? ’Director of the Month’? What a joke. I wonder if they know what you do—"

He stood and walked back to her, all pretense of politeness gone. He gripped her hair, his fingers twisting into the tight bun and yanking her head back. She winced, a sharp pain shooting through her scalp. But she didn’t react immediately. ’Hold it in, hold it in,’ she told herself.

"Do you think you can survive if you threaten me?" He snorted, his breath a foul rush of air against her face. "Marrying a Wildfire changes nothing. You are just my tiny little slut. And no matter how much you try to act confident in front of me, you are still the same. Just like you call yourself... an unappealing painting."

The last two words hit her with the force of a physical blow, eclipsing the pain in her scalp.

Unappealing painting.

The phrase was a jolt of ice in her veins. She had seen that name before.

She knew that name.

It was her reader. One of her top fans who always gifted her books and left comments. The same one who had disappeared for a while now.

It wouldn’t be her... right? The thought, chilling and disorienting, tried to take root in her mind.

The devil in front of her was still talking. "I let you be the first time your lousy mouth got loud and you got my mother involved. Do you think either of us would let you go if you dared misbehave again?"

Priscilla... knew.

The terrifying truth settled over her and for a monent, it felt like she forgot how to breathe.

She wanted to throw up.

He leaned in, his voice a low, malevolent hiss. "You really haven’t learned anything, have you? My mother picked you up from whatever slum you came from. She made you. Without her, you’d be nothing. Dead in a ditch, or spreading your legs for cash like the others." He chuckled, his breath hot against her cheek. "You should be grateful. Glad I even bothered to touch a nobody like you."

His lips went closer to her ears as he whispered, "And this new fire in your eyes?" he added with a hiss. "I like it. It makes me hard."

His tongue flicked against her ear, vile and slow. A cold, wet horror.

Alice’s entire body trembled. Not from fear, but from a blinding, righteous rage. This was not Aurora’s fight. It was Alice’s now. The violation, the cruelty, the horrifying revelations, it all snapped into a single point of focus.

Her knee shot up, not with a thought, but with instinct and fury. It connected with his groin, hard. He yelped, a high-pitched, pathetic sound, and his grip on her hair loosened just enough. "What the fu—! Are you insane?"

In a fluid motion, Alice seized a fistful of his hair and yanked his head down. He roared, swinging his arms wildly.

"Get off me, you crazy bitch!" he snarled, spitting through clenched teeth. His hands tried to block her, but her knee shot up again, slamming into his face.

Very hard.

Crunch.

His nose gave way with a wet, sickening sound.

He screamed. A loud, panicked, broken sound that filled the room.

Still gripping his hair, Alice yanked him toward the desk as he stumbled, trying to claw at her arm, trying to regain control.

"Do you want to die?!" he shrieked in a frenzy, but she didn’t stop.

She slammed his face into his polished desk.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

His hands flailed, trying to grab at her, but she was always two steps ahead. Adrenaline made her sharp. Rage made her unstoppable. His screams were a constant, garbled wail.

Weak bastard.

Her eyes were hot, but the tears had been burned away.

She usually wasn’t a violent person. She did have her limit even when she was paid to take some... odd job.

But maybe it was the present circumstance, or the fact that she was living with dangerous people. Because when her eyes landed on the half-empty coffee mug on his desk, she grabbed it, still holding him in place with her other hand.

She didn’t hesitate, splashing the warm liquid on his face. It wasn’t hot enough to burn, but the humiliation and shock made him sputter. Before he could react, she smashed the mug against his head.