Chapter 5
"I'm tired."
After three days in the hospital, Rowan had no interest in coming back to the villa only to deal with this.
"Rowan, have you forgotten your place? Don't make me repeat myself."
Kingsley knew Rowan was stubborn. When her temper flared, ten oxen couldn't drag her back.
But Kingsley wasn't one of those oxen.
Barefoot, he stepped across the imported luxury carpet, radiating oppressive pressure with each step toward Rowan.
His fingers—long and elegant like a pianist's—gently lifted Rowan's chin, then pressed hard enough to leave clear red marks.
"You can go wash yourself, or I can go in and wash you myself. Hmm?"
The rising inflection at the end turned what should have been a threat into something dangerously seductive.
Rowan's face, which had just regained some color after three days of recovery, flushed instantly. Her body trembled involuntarily. Her feet stepped back, instinctively trying to escape his touch.
"Cat and mouse can be fun to play. But don't push it. Get in there."
Kingsley's gentleness from a second ago vanished. The next second, his fingers shoved hard. Rowan's body swayed, barely catching herself on the bathroom doorframe to avoid falling.
Rowan looked up at his emotionless eyes, pressed her lips together, opened the bathroom door, and walked inside.
In the bathroom, warm water had already been drawn. The temperature was perfect—exactly how she liked it.
Even her favorite body wash sat on the edge of the tub, positioned right where she could easily reach it.
He was always like this. He remembered the temperature she preferred. Remembered the scents she liked. Even remembered her favorite makeup brands.
But—
Thinking of the deep hatred in Kingsley's eyes, Rowan could only sigh.
She numbly removed her clothes and let her body slip into the tub, letting the warm water soothe her frozen heart.
One minute. Two minutes. She didn't know how much time had passed. Just as Rowan was drifting off to sleep, she felt the bathroom door open. A tall figure stepped through the swirling steam.
He hauled Rowan's naked body out of the water in one motion. Not until her rear hit the cold surface of the tub's edge did Rowan react.
Her hands instinctively covered her full breasts.
"What part of you haven't I seen? Covering up now—isn't it a bit late?"
Kingsley's voice was low. Mocking.
His eyes, tinged faintly red, flickered with burning desire.
One large hand wrapped around Rowan's soft waist, keeping her from falling back into the tub. The other hand moved like magic across her smooth skin.
Kingsley pushed aside the hands covering her chest with disdain, successfully claiming both peaks.
"Rowan, they've gotten bigger. Looks like I deserve some credit. Remember to thank me."
Rowan closed her eyes, her body trembling, refusing to answer.
"Ms. Lavien, don't try to resist. You know you enjoy this."
His heavy breathing by her ear chipped away at Rowan's last shred of sanity.
After being together this long, Kingsley knew every sensitive spot on her body. Every time, he found them with precision.
Forcing Rowan to fall with him.
Sounds she couldn't suppress escaped from Rowan's parted red lips.
Even at a moment like this, Kingsley's low laughter carried only mockery.
His hands moved forcefully. Rowan felt her body lifted into the air. Her arms instinctively wrapped around Kingsley's neck as she opened her eyes, now tinged with desire.
"Keep your eyes wide open. Watch carefully. See how much you enjoy this."
In front of the bathroom's massive floor-length mirror, Rowan was forced to bend over, eyes wide, staring at the reflection before her.
The woman's freshly washed hair fell messily across her face. Her flawless, delicate back was fully exposed to the man behind her.
Kingsley pressed his lips together. His large hands expertly removed his soaked towel, revealing perfect eight-pack abs, powerful chest muscles, and as the towel fell away, his fully exposed desire.
Rowan knew all too well what would happen next.
Since reuniting with Kingsley, this had happened countless times.
To humiliate her, Kingsley always chose the floor-to-ceiling windows, or the villa's balcony railings, or like now—in front of this massive mirror.
She understood his meaning.
With sudden entry and no warning, even though Rowan had mentally prepared herself, she couldn't stop the broken sound that escaped her.
"Keep your eyes open and watch."
The assault continued. In Kingsley's frenzy, Rowan was like a small boat on the ocean—helplessly drifting with the wind.
Broken sounds continued through half the night. The bathroom sink. The living room sofa. The massive floor-to-ceiling windows in the bedroom. Her final memory froze in Kingsley's dark bedroom.
The next day.
When Rowan opened her exhausted eyes, the space beside her was empty as always. No sign of Kingsley.
She reached out to touch the spot next to her. Already cold.
She laughed bitterly at herself.
After all this time, she was still hoping.
Rowan grabbed her phone to check the time. Nearly noon.
No calls. No messages. No voicemails.
Right. She had no friends. Even if she disappeared, no one would know.
She really was a failure.
Rowan numbly got up, threw on a bathrobe, and entered the bathroom.
In the floor-length mirror, a figure covered in countless kiss marks stared back at her.
From her neck downward was a disaster zone. Marks everywhere. Not a single clean spot.
Every time she saw her wrecked body like this, Rowan wondered—deep down, did Kingsley still love her?
After showering and getting ready, Rowan knew that no matter what time he'd gone to sleep, she needed to go to the office.
This was Kingsley's rule—the private secretary must stay by the CEO's side.
Rowan went downstairs, ignoring the butler's concerned gaze, numbly eating what could no longer be called breakfast.
Then she left. No need to ask—a driver was already waiting outside.
She got in the car. It started. Destination: FitzRoy Group.
She'd thought these bleak days would continue endlessly without hope.
Until a phone call came, once again shattering Rowan's already broken life.
"Ms. Lavien, this is Central Hospital. Your mother—your mother has woken up. Please come see her."
The call was from the hospital. Lena had woken up. It should have been cause for celebration, but the doctor's tone held no joy. Only heaviness.
