Chapter 7 Chapter 7 Scorch Marks‌

‌There was nothing between Xander Lewis and me. Nothing. Yet Henry's stare-cold, assessing-froze the explanation on my lips.‌

‌"You've got it wrong-"‌

‌"Henry! Did you find it?"‌ ‌Lena's shrill voice cut through the hospital lot before she materialized, clinging instantly to his arm. Her eyes narrowed on me, sharp as glass.‌ ‌"What's she doing here?"‌

‌I ignored her, focusing on Henry.‌ ‌"I was ill last night. Mr. Lewis found me collapsed. He brought me here."‌ ‌My voice sounded thin, pleading even to my own ears.‌

‌Henry remained silent, expression unreadable, a judge weighing unreliable testimony.‌

‌Lena's laugh tinkled, false and brittle.‌ ‌"Such perfect timing! Mr. Lewis was just asking about you recently. I meant to introduce you! Seems you two didn't need my help."‌ ‌Her implication hung thick in the air:They're already entangled.‌

‌Henry's gaze flickered over me, a ghost of that mocking smirk touching his lips. He tucked Lena's hand possessively against his side.‌ ‌"Let's go. Dr. Collins is waiting. We won't waste time on. distractions."‌

‌Watching them walk away-united, untouchable-felt like a fist closing around my heart. I was the distraction. The inconvenient ghost.‌

‌"Keep staring, and you'll fossilize right here,"‌ ‌Xander remarked dryly, nudging me gently toward his car.‌ ‌"Come on."‌

‌Inside the quiet hum of the luxury sedan, the silence pressed heavily.‌

‌"Whatever you think you know."‌ ‌I finally whispered, staring at my trembling hands,‌ ‌".it doesn't matter. You saw. There's nothing between us. He's just my brother-in-law."‌ ‌The title tasted like ash.‌

‌Xander glanced sideways, his expression unreadable.‌ ‌"Sophie, a woman's value isn't dictated by her connection to any man. It resides in her. What you choose to do now defines you far more than what Henry Smith ever did."‌ ‌He focused back on the road, the quiet conviction in his words startling.‌

‌For the first time, a sliver of cautious doubt about him softened my guard. Maybe. maybe he meant it.‌

‌He dropped me at the curb with a final, quiet reminder to consider his offer.‌

‌My mind was numb, my body still aching, as I pushed open the apartment door. The silence felt heavy, oppressive. I walked toward my bedroom-‌

‌Rough hands seized me. Yanked me backward onto the bed.‌

‌I gasped, lashing out instinctively-and froze.‌

‌Henry.‌

‌He loomed over me, backlit by the dim light from the hallway, a silhouette of contained fury. The cold radiating from him was palpable.‌

‌Memories flooded back-his shove, the bookshelf, the blinding pain, the blood.‌ ‌You almost killed our baby,‌ ‌I wanted to scream. Instead, I glared, voice raspy.‌ ‌"What are you doing here? Get off!"‌

‌His answer was a punishing kiss, raw and claiming. One hand slid beneath my skirt, fingers tracing a deliberate, familiar path up my thigh.‌

‌"Ah!"‌ ‌A traitorous shiver ran through me. Years of conditioned response betrayed me instantly, my body arching slightly into his touch before my mind could scream stop!‌

‌Then, with cruel timing, he pulled back. His fingers dug into my chin, forcing my eyes to meet his icy gaze.‌

‌"Already wet for me?"‌ ‌He sneered, breath hot against my lips.‌ ‌"Lewis couldn't finish the job?"‌

‌Ice water drenched my soul. Humiliation warred with fury.‌

‌I forced a brittle, mocking smile, meeting his glare.‌ ‌"Isn't this what you paid for? Quick, easy access? Funny, most men don't crawl back to trash they've already discarded."‌

‌Rage flared in his eyes. His grip tightened painfully on my waist.‌ ‌"Listen closely. Even used trash belongs in my bin. No one else gets to pretend you're fresh."‌ ‌His head dipped, teeth sinking savagely into the tender flesh above my collarbone-a brutal brand.‌

‌"Ah-!"‌ ‌A cry tore from my throat, pain radiating through me. I bucked wildly, shoving against his chest, but he was an immovable weight, pinning me, his other hand already working at his belt-

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