Chapter 12: My Mysterious Husband Has a Dark Taste!

"Young Mr. Yoxal is back?" Sia Thubron asked, staring at the car outside. "Yes." To be precise, the Second Young Master was back. The answer hit Sia like a thunderbolt. She had been hoping that Young Mr. Yoxal would stay in treatment longer. Three to five years would have been perfect. She could have lived as a widow in everything but name. But he was back… and Sia felt utterly doomed. She forced herself to steady her breathing, drew in a deep breath, and walked into the villa. Strangely enough, when dinner came around, Young Mr. Yoxal never came downstairs. He did not show his face, and Sia did not ask. She ate in silence, watching the butler carry a single, exquisitely prepared meal up to the third floor before returning alone. The secrecy only tightened the pressure around her chest. After dinner, Sia went back to her room. She did not ask about Young Mr. Yoxal, and the butler offered no instructions. She thought that once she shut her door, everything would be fine. "Hah…" Standing in the room, she finally let out a breath. Knock, knock, knock. Sia snapped her head around, instantly on guard. "Young Mistress, Young Master has something for you." It was a maid's voice from the hallway. Sia walked over and unlocked the door. Sure enough, a maid stood there holding a bag with both hands. "Young Mistress, this is what Young Master prepared for you. Young Master said you're not allowed to turn on the lights tonight, and you must cover your eyes. Young Master will come to rest in your room tonight." Sia: "!!!" The last shred of hope evaporated. Cold flooded her hands and feet. "He… he's coming to rest in my room?" she asked, standing rigid in the doorway, needing to hear it again. "Yes." The maid nodded. Sia's mind collapsed. Her small face went paper-white. She took the bag woodenly, shut the door, and sat on the edge of the bed with a blank expression. After staring into space for a while, she finally pulled out what Young Mr. Yoxal had sent. The moment she saw what it was, her face went from white to red in a heartbeat. So it was true. Young Mr. Yoxal was a total psycho. What even was this? Pinching the thin fabric between two fingers, Sia lifted it up to inspect it. Black. Sheer. Practically transparent. She was losing her mind. What kind of twisted thoughts did someone have to have to send something like this? News articles about Young Mr. Yoxal flashed through her head. Moody and unpredictable. Useless, yet his ways of tormenting people were endless… And if he found out she was not untouched… If she angered him, the outcome- Sia shuddered hard. It was the height of summer, yet she felt as if she had been dropped into a frozen wasteland. She paced in circles, frantic. She needed a way to salvage this, any way at all. Then a "brilliant" idea struck her. Fine. She would do it that way. … The night deepened. Sia had been lying on the oversized bed for a long time. The lavish bedroom was silent and lightless. She lay on the velvet, vintage swan bed, fists clenched in the blanket. A black silk ribbon covered her eyes. The quilt swallowed her whole, leaving only her delicate, pretty face exposed. The room was so quiet she could hear her own heartbeat, loud and unforgiving. She had been there forever, but sleep never came. Nervousness sharpened every sense until she felt painfully awake. Click. The sound of the door handle turning. Sia's fingers tightened around the blanket. Her heart slammed faster, and her body went taut beneath the covers. A wheelchair rolled over the wooden floor. He was here. Liam Hawksford sat in his wheelchair, guiding it through the darkness toward the bed. The wheels stopped. He remained seated, still as a mountain. The room sank back into silence. Aside from her own shallow breaths, Sia heard nothing, yet she knew he was right there at her bedside. Even in pitch-black darkness, she could feel the pressure radiating from the wheelchair. And she could feel his gaze, sharp and cold, as if it pierced straight through the dark and stripped her bare. Danger crept over her skin. Gooseflesh rose along her arms. Liam reached out and flipped the blanket back. The quilt, which she had been clutching for dear life, was yanked away with force. She was already dressed in something far too thin. The shame and panic rushed up her throat, heat blooming across her body. She bit down on her lower lip and did not make a sound. Under the ribbon, her eyes squeezed shut, her thick lashes trembling uncontrollably. The blanket lay open. Then came another stretch of silence. The oppressive, terrifying atmosphere nearly crushed her. She lay there in flimsy clothing, while a frightening, perverse man sat at her bedside, staring. Her heartbeat felt like it was about to stop. She did not dare speak. Suddenly- A pair of icy hands settled on her slim waist, and Sia jolted. That rough palm slid slowly along her waist and lower abdomen. Then his fingers hooked the thin tie at her hip. Liam's patience was terrifying, like a predator toying with prey before the kill. "Y-Young Mr. Yoxal…" Sia wanted to scream, but she forced her voice down, calling him softly. It came out shaking. She gathered her courage and reached out, pressing her hands over his, trying to stop him. The unfamiliar touch burned against her skin. She wanted to flee, but she knew running might earn her something worse. "Scared?" His large hand was caught between her two soft palms, pinned in place. His voice was clear and without warmth, low and indifferent, edged with faint irritation. "I… I don't feel well…" Sia said. Blindfolded, her black hair spread behind her, and she forced a stiff smile that probably looked more like a grimace. "Hmm?" Liam responded quietly. His voice turned even colder, more frightening than before. "I… I'm on my period," Sia blurted. "That doesn't matter." Doesn't matter? Blood. There would be blood. He was not seriously going to be that kind of- Her body trembled under his fingertips, and Liam's interest only seemed to grow. Sia's forehead dampened with a sheen of sweat. "It matters. There's blood… blood," she insisted. Liam pulled his hand free, but his rough fingers lightly scraped along the skin of her long thigh. The unhurried movement made his intentions impossible to read. Every hair on Sia's body threatened to stand on end. She had never endured torment like this. His hand did not stop. If anything, it grew bolder. "C-can you… wait a few days?" she begged, her voice almost breaking. "No." The blunt refusal shattered her last bit of composure. "I'll check," he said, his tone absolute, leaving no room for argument. "…!!!" He really was not normal. For Sia, wearing that outfit had already been her limit. And he still wanted to "check." She wanted to slam her head into the wall.