Chapter 353

Vincent froze in place.That was truly how Hannah saw him?

He looked at Hannah-her body stiff, as though bracing for another assault-and a sharp wave of pain cut through him, mingling with a fury he could neither name nor contain. "Shut up!" he snarled, his voice heavy with restrained anger.

In one swift motion, he seized the collar of her sleepwear. With a harsh tug, the fabric tore open, baring her undergarments and the scattered bruises across her skin-some dark, others fading into pale shadows.

Hannah's eyes blazed, her posture defiant, as though waiting for the violence to begin.

But he didn't move the way she expected. Instead of pouncing on her,'his expression tightened. His gaze,dark and conflicted, swept over every glaring mark on her body.

Then, without another word, he turned, grabbed the unopened box of ointment from the table, and flipped it open.He pressed the tube, letting a bead of cool cream collect on his fingertip.

Leaning closer, his rough but chilled fingers-hesitant, almost clumsy-brushed against the worst bruise on her collarbone. The cold touch, laced with the faint scent of medicine, seeped into her skin.

Hannah shivered at once. He wasn't trying to claim her-he was treating her wounds?

His touch carried no viblence. It was awkwardly gentle, as though he feared adding to her pain.

She had imagined countless possibilities for what would happen when he barged in at dawn. Rape. Mockery.Endless torment. But never this. The realization left her unsettled. Leaning back, she said sharply, "I'll do it myself."

"No," Vincent countered, his tone imperious as always. "How could you possibly reach the spots you can't even see?"

She assumed he meant her back and remained resistant. "Then have a maid do it." She wanted to cut off

every shred of contact with him.

But the very next second, Vincent yanked down her pants, and Hannah let out a startled, panicked scream.His cool,ointment-coated fingers moved closer-toward her private parts.

"What are you being shy for? It's not like I haven't seen it before." His voice was calm, though his movements stayed tentative, inexperienced.

A flush of shame swept over Hannah, and she struggled with all her strength. Yet, Vincent effortlessly overpowered her resistance.

"Don't move. It's swollen." His voice dropped low, rough, unsteady.

"Isn't that your fault?" Hannah snapped, her head lifting, her eyes blazing with hatred and accusation.

Vincent's fingers, midway through applying the ointment, paused slightly. He raised his gaze and met her unwavering stare.

Seconds stretched.

"Yeah." His reply came quietly, stripped of feeling. Then, without pause, he resumed his movements, his voice dropping even lower, as though stating a plain promise. "Next time, I'll be gentler."

Hannah erupted. Next time? Gentler? What did he think this was? Some playful banter between lovers? It was nothing like that. The sheer absurdity, layered with fresh humiliation, snapped her resolve.

"Who wants a next time with you? Who wants your promise to be gentler?" she shouted, yanking.her wrist from his now-loosened grip and shoving him away with all the strength she had.

Frantically, she fixed her disheveled pajamas and wrapped it tightly around herself."Ifyou're not going to let me go, then get out. I don't want to see you."

Vincent staggered back a step. Watching her wrap herself so tightly, the frustration inside him swelled,fierce and suffocating. He forced a long breath, tamping it down."No need to get worked up. I have something for you." His tone slid back into its icy calm.

"I don't want anything from you. Unless it's freedom," Hannah shot back, her gaze hard as steel.

"That's the second time today." Vincent's eyes narrowed, a shadow of menace sliding into his voice."Don't ever mention freedom again. I don't like it."

"Well, I don't like anything you give me either!" Hannah retorted, meeting his gaze head-on, her voice sharp with defiance.

"Is that so? We'll see about that." A subtle sneer, dark and purposeful, appeared on Vincent's lips.