Julian pressed me back down into the seat: "What's the rush?" He paused, surveying the completely trashed room before looking at me with a half-smile, "Besides, what makes you think I would let you leave so easily?"

The floor was covered in shards of ceramic, along with two shattered art pieces that Christian's men had smashed earlier. Although my knowledge of collectibles wasn't deep, I knew these things were definitely exorbitant in price. Let alone Julian, even I couldn't help but wince at the sight. If it weren't for me, Julian probably wouldn't have suffered such a loss.

Chapter 11: Grant Me One Request

Julian smiled. "If you want to walk out that door, you have to grant me one request."

Thinking he was going to make some incredibly difficult demand, my heart tightened. Instead, he simply rubbed his temples and said reassuringly, "As for what the request is, agree to it first, and I'll tell you in the future." His tone was leisurely, laced with the typical carefree attitude of a wealthy playboy.

I steeled myself and temporarily agreed, wanting nothing more than to escape this place immediately. I silently resolved to never cross paths with this man again to avoid triggering any further unnecessary trouble.

The dress I had worn when I arrived was completely ruined. I originally wanted to find a change of clothes in the villa to make do for my journey back, but after the scene Christian had caused, I was ultimately terrified he might overthink things, deciding it was best to wear my original outfit.

Julian stopped me at the door, pointing toward a full-length mirror nearby. I caught a glimpse of myself in the reflection; my hair was a tangled mess, my makeup completely ruined, and combined with the torn dress exposing my skin, I looked a total disaster.

The textbook image of a violated young girl. If I walked down the street like this, the retention rate of stares would absolutely be a hundred percent.

Sighing deeply, a massive headache began to form.

Turning back, I borrowed the bathroom from Julian to take a quick shower. When I stepped out, he was waiting by the door with a fresh blouse and trousers. Tsk, it was even a women's set.

For a man with Julian's wealth, power, and looks, who was in the prime of his youth, there was no shortage of women throwing themselves at him. It wasn't surprising for him to keep women's clothing at his house. As I hesitated, he offered an explanation: "It's brand new."

I lowered my gaze, murmured a thank you, but didn't take them. Instead, I borrowed a few safety pins from him to pin together the torn rips in my dress. After blowing my hair dry, I restudied myself in the mirror, finding that I finally looked presentable.

Julian called a car for me.

Before I left, he held the car door open. The night wind was howling loudly around us, but a sudden softness emerged in Julian's eyes. His deep voice drifted in through the rushing wind: "Don't worry, I'll keep everything that happened today a secret. My lips are sealed."

It would have been better if he hadn't said anything at all because the moment those words left his mouth, the driver in the front seat looked back in absolute shock, his gaze making it seem as though I had truly survived some horrific ordeal.

I ground my teeth, reluctantly uttering another thank you. Yet his words seemed to possess a strange magic, acting like a sedative that instantly eased the tension in my chest, making me think that this man did have a bit of a conscience.

When I arrived home, as expected, Christian was sitting on the sofa waiting for me. The living room was pitched in complete darkness, save for the faint glow radiating from his phone screen. His features looked somewhat distant and cold under the pale light. I switched on the lights, omitting the fact that my phone had been thrown into the trash by Mr. Weston, explaining that I had accidentally lost it.

Christian's heavy gaze landed dead on the safety pins on my dress, feeling almost tangible.

Before returning home, I had prepared myself for everything, assuming he would question me about Mr. Weston or bring up Julian. I swallowed hard, as if waiting for an impending judgment.

To my surprise, the corners of his mouth turned up into a smile that didn't reach his eyes: "It's good that you're back." His tone was unexpectedly tender.

Christian stood up from the sofa, taking his clothes to head into the shower. Before stepping in, he turned back to look at me: "Go change your clothes."

I probably didn't even realize how ridiculous I was being. Wearing such a tattered, ruined dress home was partly due to the fear of his suspicion, but deep down, there was another reason I refused to admit to myself: I was hoping to use it to trigger a sliver of guilt in Christian.

Chapter 12: Psychological Fear

Christian came out of the shower, lifted the blanket, and climbed into bed. Seeing me lost in thought, he kissed my neck and rested his head against my chest. "I'll help you get a new phone tomorrow." He traced his lips along the skin of my neck, his breathing gradually growing heavy.

Just as he was about to unbutton my nightgown, I pressed my hand over his, instinctively whispering, "No."

Christian's movements came to an abrupt halt. He looked at me with surprise, his eyes, still filled with unextinguished desire, writing a script of pure disbelief and faint confusion.

The air froze between us, and realizing my own blunder, I cleared my throat as a blush crept up my face. "I'm not feeling very well tonight."

This was the first time I had ever made an excuse to reject him.

Over the past eight years, the number of times I had said no to him could be counted on one hand, and those were always due to physical reasons. Today, it was out of psychological fear.

As Christian's mistress, I had always been dutiful and diligent, cooperating completely whenever he was around. After all, to put it nicely, I was a beauty hidden away in a gilded cage; to put it harshly, I was just selling myself.

Compared to those heavily made-up women working the streets, I wasn't really any more elevated, just a bit more glamorous.

I remembered a word of advice from an older seasoned woman I met in this circle a couple of years back. She said that in our line of work, you must never fall in love. You need to know exactly what you are worth, otherwise your ending will be incredibly ugly.

Thinking it over, I knew I only had myself to blame.

I blamed myself for letting my guard down with Christian, for taking things seriously, and for starting to care too much.

Christian's face remained rigid, so I rolled over, wrapping my arms around him from the side, and leaned in to actively kiss his jawline. The man, however, made no response, his slightly cool hand merely stroking my hair as he spoke in a flat tone, "You're tired. Get some rest early."

That night, I tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep for half the night. I wasn't the only one suffering from insomnia; Christian was too. Every time I opened my eyes, the other side of the bed was completely empty.

Around dawn, he got up to smoke a cigarette on the balcony, and it took a long while before he finally returned to bed. He pulled me into his embrace and softly called out my name. I leaned against his chest and pretended to be asleep, only then suddenly realizing the true reason for my insomnia: I was waiting for him to say he was sorry.

As expected, I was still being far too greedy.

After waiting and waiting, I finally admitted defeat and drifted into a hazy, chaotic sleep.

When I opened my eyes the next morning, Christian was unexpectedly still at home. He had even gone downstairs to the local breakfast shop to buy food—sticky rice porridge and small soup buns. Although it was just comfort food, every single item was a favorite of mine. Most importantly, that breakfast shop was notoriously popular, requiring a long wait in line during peak hours.

Not only that, but he had already bought my new phone, using my old SIM card. I never expected him to do so much for me in a single morning.

This was something I wouldn't have dared to dream of in the past.

Christian was already dressed and ready to head out. Before leaving, he planted a kiss on my cheek, mentioning that he had to travel to Atlanta over the weekend and wouldn't be able to keep me company for the next two days.

Even though the breakfast was exactly what I liked, I had absolutely no appetite, feeling an inexplicable wave of irritation.