Chapter 5

"I'm shocked—this is wild!" The guy clearly didn't expect to walk in on something steamy. His voice was full of excitement. Emily tried desperately to push him off, but her struggle only made the scene even more revealing. James covered her with his body, then leaned down and bit her chest—on purpose. "Ah! Stop it…" She cried out, her voice breaking with shame and pain. Annoyed, James shot a cold glare at the intruder. "Scram. Now." The guy shrugged and stepped out, casually swinging the door shut behind him. Emily barely had a second to ease up when a sudden chill between her legs made her stiffen. "You said stop? You really think you can say that to me?" His eyes grew darker as his fingers moved between her legs. "Did Daniel ever stop when you asked?" He pressed harder as his voice dropped low. "Did he do you like this too?" Her eyes flew open in panic as the invasive touch sent a jolt through her. She desperately tried to pull away, over and over, shaking her head. "No!" That resistance only seemed to rile him up more. His glare turned cold as he yanked his fingers back and pinned her down. She felt heat pressing against her, her eyes widening in dread. "Ah—" Without any warning, he forced himself into her. Every nerve in her body screamed in pain, her back arching until her legs nearly buckled. James locked her between the sink and the wall, hands on either side, holding her still. It was brutal. Unforgiving. He didn't care at all as he pounded into her. "Go on, scream. Let everyone know just how badly you want it." His hand roughly grabbed at her chest, hips slamming into her in a punishing rhythm. Emily bit down hard on her lip, refusing to let a single sound escape. James sneered, then sank his teeth into her again. That broke her. A quiet moan slipped out before she could stop it, only pushing him further. He raked his teeth across her, leaving harsh, bleeding marks wherever he went. Then he flipped her over, thrusting again from behind, his pace relentless. Warm liquid spilled out between them. Emily couldn't hold back a cry of shame. "You're disgusting, Emily. Saying no but moaning like a whore." Grabbing a fistful of her hair, he pulled her head up to face the mirror. "Look at yourself. See how pathetic you are? Does it hurt? Feel humiliated? Good. Remember this damn feeling. If I find out you're still tangled up with that loser, today's pain will be nothing compared to what comes next." He stood there fully dressed. She, on the other hand, was completely exposed, her pale skin covered in red and purple bruises—every mark a cruel reminder. Emily squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to look at the reflection of what they had become. Her long eyelashes trembled. Her expression was a mix of shame and despair. The wound on her stomach scraped again and again against the edge of the sink. Blood ran down, dripping along the porcelain. Each movement sent a new wave of pain crashing over her. She clenched her eyes shut. Let this be the end. Let her die right now and never open her eyes again. Her mind went numb. Tears slipped quietly from the corners of her eyes. No one knew how long she'd been unconscious. When she woke, her entire body felt wrecked, like she'd been trampled. The bruises worsened overnight, deep and horrifying. She forced herself to stand. Her legs shook with each step, pain ripping through her. As soon as she changed into fresh clothes, her phone rang. When she picked up, William Anderson's furious voice exploded through the speaker. "Emily, you ungrateful brat! Get your ass home right now!" "What is it, Dad?" she asked, sounding distant. After her mom's death, William quickly remarried—his mistress, no less—and had ignored both her and Oliver ever since. The only time he called was when something directly affected his interests. "What is it? If you don't come back now, your grandpa's going to die!" Everything froze. Emily nearly collapsed.