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His Tamed Wife, The Wild Heiress
img img His Tamed Wife, The Wild Heiress img Chapter 5 Worried Husband
5 Chapters
Chapter 6 Misguided Tenderness img
Chapter 7 Fear Of The Unknown img
Chapter 8 Faking It img
Chapter 9 Subtle Changes img
Chapter 10 Changes img
Chapter 11 Old Friends img
Chapter 12 Dinner Date img
Chapter 13 Irony img
Chapter 14 Making Changes img
Chapter 15 Becoming Miss Andy img
Chapter 16 Deal With Kane img
Chapter 17 Job Accomplished img
Chapter 18 Doctor's Appointment img
Chapter 19 Almost Kiss img
Chapter 20 Stay Away From Him img
Chapter 21 Who Is He Really img
Chapter 22 Wife VS Mistress img
Chapter 23 Better Actress img
Chapter 24 Commiting To The Act img
Chapter 25 Lighting The Fuse img
Chapter 26 Viral Video img
Chapter 27 Unexpected Support img
Chapter 28 Manipulating The Situation img
Chapter 29 Complicated History img
Chapter 30 Making A Plan img
Chapter 31 Key To A Lock img
Chapter 32 The Met Gala Invite img
Chapter 33 The Dubious Plan img
Chapter 34 Shopping img
Chapter 35 Fake Vs Real Chen img
Chapter 36 The Lunch Date img
Chapter 37 Hospital Visit img
Chapter 38 The Call img
Chapter 39 Manipulating The Situation img
Chapter 40 The Odd Question img
Chapter 41 The Dream Clue img
Chapter 42 Choosing Between Them img
Chapter 43 Justifying His Actions img
Chapter 44 His Perspective img
Chapter 45 Everyone's On Team Adria img
Chapter 46 Possessive img
Chapter 47 The Switch Begins img
Chapter 48 Resemblance img
Chapter 49 Cake Disaster img
Chapter 50 Never Ending Story img
Chapter 51 Uneasy Tension img
Chapter 52 Defending His Wife img
Chapter 53 Worried About The Unknown img
Chapter 54 Touched A Bit img
Chapter 55 Public Opinion Is On Her Side img
Chapter 56 Cuddling Her Husband img
Chapter 57 Damien Is Acting Odd img
Chapter 58 Thinking About Everything img
Chapter 59 Observing Things img
Chapter 60 The Bump img
Chapter 61 Silent Rivalry img
Chapter 62 Playing Him Like A Fiddle img
Chapter 63 Realization img
Chapter 64 Jealousy... img
Chapter 65 Dealing With It img
Chapter 66 Dinner Date img
Chapter 67 Family Opinions img
Chapter 68 Mistaken Identity img
Chapter 69 Hit-and-Run img
Chapter 70 Hospital img
Chapter 71 Letting Amber Leave img
Chapter 72 Police Report img
Chapter 73 I'm Staying img
Chapter 74 An Almost Kiss img
Chapter 75 The News img
Chapter 76 Amber Visits img
Chapter 77 Discharged img
Chapter 78 Almost Kiss 2 img
Chapter 79 Making Out img
Chapter 80 Terrible Timing img
Chapter 81 Mortified img
Chapter 82 The Universe Has A Sick Humor img
Chapter 83 Anything But The Obvious img
Chapter 84 Family CheckUp img
Chapter 85 Confessions img
Chapter 86 Having Double Mind img
Chapter 87 Processing img
Chapter 88 Amber Lunch Date img
Chapter 89 Refusal To Sabotage img
Chapter 90 Not Letting This Go img
Chapter 91 Grocery Shopping img
Chapter 92 Shootout img
Chapter 93 You Called; I Came img
Chapter 94 Secured Prisoner img
Chapter 95 Twenty minutes img
Chapter 96 Yusuf Apology img
Chapter 97 Viral img
Chapter 98 Complicated Feelings img
Chapter 99 Tension Between Kieran and Damien img
Chapter 100 The Hospital Clip img
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Chapter 5 Worried Husband

Chapter 5

ADRIA

The pharmacy was one of those twenty-four-hour chains that dotted the city, fluorescent-lit and nearly empty at this hour. I walked through the automatic doors with my sweatshirt hood pulled up, avoiding the bored cashier's gaze as I made my way to the first aid aisle.

My chest and stomach still burned where the soup had scalded me. I'd checked in the storage unit bathroom-the skin was angry and red, blistering in a few places. Nothing serious enough for a hospital, but painful enough that I needed something to take the edge off.

I grabbed burn ointment, bandages, and on impulse, added a bottle of extra-strength pain relievers. The cashier barely looked at me as she rang up my purchases, too engrossed in whatever show was playing on her phone.

The drive back to Damien's house-I couldn't bring myself to call it home anymore-took another thirty minutes. It was nearly two in the morning when I pulled into the driveway, expecting darkness and silence. Instead, every light in the house blazed like a beacon.

My stomach dropped.

Damien's Mercedes was parked in his usual spot, which made no sense. He'd said he wasn't coming home. He was supposed to be with Adina, or Amber, or whoever was warming his bed tonight.

I sat in my car for a long moment, gripping the steering wheel, trying to calm the sudden spike of anxiety. Old habits died hard-even now, knowing what I knew, my body still responded to his presence with that familiar mix of dread and desperate hope.

No. Not hope. Not anymore.

I grabbed the pharmacy bag and headed inside.

The front door swung open before I could reach it. Damien stood in the doorway, still dressed in the same clothes from the club, his hair disheveled like he'd been running his hands through it. His eyes locked onto me with an intensity that made me freeze mid-step.

"Where the hell have you been?"

His voice was sharp, demanding, but there was something else underneath it. Something that sounded almost like... worry?

I blinked, momentarily thrown off balance. This wasn't the script. This wasn't how things usually went. When Damien stayed out, he stayed out. He didn't come home early. He certainly didn't wait up for me, pacing and worried.

"I-" I started, then caught myself, adjusting my posture into something smaller, more apologetic. The docile wife. The role I'd perfected over eighteen months. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you."

"I texted you over an hour ago." He stepped aside to let me in, and I noticed his phone clutched in his hand, the screen still lit up with our message thread. "You didn't respond. You always respond within seconds."

Because you trained me to, I thought bitterly. Because the one time I took ten minutes to reply, you accused me of ignoring you and didn't speak to me for three days.

But I didn't say that. Instead, I held up the pharmacy bag, letting confusion and contrition color my voice. "I had to get ointment for the burns. I didn't have my phone with me-I left it in the car while I was in the store. I'm sorry, I should have been more careful."

Damien's eyes dropped to the bag, then to my chest where the burns were hidden beneath my sweatshirt. Something flickered across his face-guilt, maybe, or something that looked like it from certain angles.

"Let me see," he said, reaching for the bag.

I handed it over, watching as he pulled out the burn ointment and examined it like he was verifying I'd actually bought what I claimed. Satisfied, he gestured toward the living room.

"Sit down."

It wasn't a request. It never was with Damien. Everything was a command, a directive, an expectation that I would comply without question.

I walked to the living room and sank into the armchair-my usual spot, the one farthest from where he typically sat, the one that let me stay small and unobtrusive. But Damien followed me and pointed to the sofa instead.

"There. Where I can see you properly."

My skin prickled with unease, but I moved to the sofa. Damien sat beside me, closer than he usually did, and held out his hand for my sweatshirt.

"Take it off. I need to see how bad it is."

Heat flooded my face-not from embarrassment, but from anger I couldn't afford to show. He'd poured that soup on me. He'd humiliated me in front of his friends, called me pathetic, told me to clean myself up. And now he wanted to play concerned husband?

But I needed to maintain the facade. Just a little longer. Just until I figured out which of his friends owned that necklace.

I pulled off my sweatshirt slowly, revealing the tank top underneath. The burns covered my chest and stomach in angry red patches, some already blistering. Damien's jaw tightened as he looked at them.

"Sit back," he said quietly.

I obeyed, settling against the sofa cushions while Damien opened the ointment. He squeezed some onto his fingers and began applying it to the burns with surprising gentleness. His touch was careful, almost tender, and I had to fight the urge to pull away from him.

This is a performance, I reminded myself. Just like everything else in this marriage. He's performing concern because that's what husbands are supposed to do. Or maybe someone said something to him. Maybe Marcus or Kieran told him he went too far.

"You need to get better at understanding what I need from you," Damien said as he worked, his voice taking on that familiar patronizing tone I'd heard a thousand times before. "If you had brought the soup at the right temperature, if you had been more careful, this wouldn't have happened. You understand that, don't you?"

My hands clenched in my lap, nails digging into my palms. He was actually blaming me for this. For him pouring hot soup down my front. For the burns that were currently making my skin feel like it was on fire.

"Yes," I heard myself say, the word tasting like ash. "I understand."

"Good." He applied more ointment, his fingers trailing across my ribs. "I don't like punishing you, Adriana. But you have to learn. You have to be better."

Punishing me. As if he was some benevolent teacher and I was a slow student who just couldn't grasp the lesson. As if pouring soup on me was a reasonable response to it not being hot enough for his mistress.

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