Chapter 27

Alexander didn't soften his icy stare despite Alice's scream. His gaze remained sharp, scrutinizing her with unsettling intensity. Alice shoved him away with force, grabbing the bathrobe and wrapping it tightly around herself before bolting into the guest bedroom.

The moment the door clicked shut, tears spilled down her cheeks.

The humiliation burned through her—raw and suffocating.

She wiped her face with the back of her hand, trembling as she reached for her clothes. Then, the door swung open behind her.

She flinched.

Alexander stood there, a first aid kit in his grip.

Alice clutched the towel tighter against her chest. "What... what are you doing?"

He didn’t answer. Instead, he seized her wrist and flipped her onto the bed before she could react. A cool ointment spread across her back, soothing the angry red marks she hadn’t even realized were there.

She had felt the sting in the shower but hadn’t seen the damage. Now, under his clinical touch, the pain eased instantly.

Her legs bore similar marks. She lay there, mortified, as he worked in silence, methodically covering every bruise.

Then he turned her over.

Alice squeezed her eyes shut, fists clenched, bracing for—

Nothing.

He didn’t touch her beyond what was necessary.

When she dared to look, his expression was dark, stormy. Disgusted.

She had seen that look before. Alexander had always despised her. If not for Margaret’s condition, she’d have been discarded long ago.

The idea that he’d take advantage of her was laughable.

Wrapping the towel tighter, she met his gaze with icy detachment. "I know you only did this for your mother. Don’t worry—I won’t cling to you just because you touched me. If I break that promise, let me die horribly."

She looked away.

Alexander exhaled sharply, his voice frigid. "Good. Remember that."

He left, slamming the door behind him.

Alice didn’t see him enter the bathroom afterward, where he stayed under freezing water for over an hour.

The next morning, Alexander was already dressed, preparing for an early flight. He warmed milk and made sandwiches, the scent filling the kitchen.

Alice emerged, ignoring him as she headed for the door.

"Come here," he ordered.

She stiffened. "What do you want?"

"Eat before you leave."

"I don’t eat breakfast." Her tone was flat. She walked out without another glance.

It wasn’t a preference—it was survival. Eight years with the Sullivans had taught her that meals were battlegrounds. She’d rather starve than endure their cruelty.

On the bus to Grandview Medical Center, she clutched a box of cream puffs—Margaret’s favorite.

"Mom," she greeted with a soft smile. "I brought you breakfast."

Margaret set the pastries aside, gripping Alice’s hands. "Tell me the truth. Where have you been? Your face was bruised yesterday."

Alice forced a laugh. "Business trip. You’re overthinking."

Margaret’s eyes darkened. "I spent years in prison, Alice. I know when someone’s lying. Was it the Sullivans? Did they hurt you?"

Alice hesitated.

Victoria had nearly killed her. But how could she admit that to Margaret—Victoria’s real daughter-in-law?

"Mom, it’s nothing. Just exhaustion." She changed the subject. "Eat, please. I have work."

Margaret relented, but suspicion lingered in her gaze.

Alice should’ve gone straight to the construction site, but after missing days, she wasn’t sure Montgomery Designs would still want her.

She approached the design director nervously. "Sir, I’m sorry I was absent. Family emergency—"

He cut her off with a sneer. "Thought you were too good for manual labor? Went job hunting, didn’t you? And now you’re crawling back?"

"That’s not—"

"Get out!" He hurled a stack of files at her. "No diploma, no skills—just some scribbles from watching construction. You’re not even fit to be my assistant!"

Alice dodged, stumbling backward—

Right into someone’s arms.

"Well, well," a playful voice murmured. "Fancy meeting you here."