Seleyena’s declaration rang out again, piercing and borderline hysterical. "I was the one who practically begged him! He—he didn’t even pull in. He just sat there and let . You want the real truth? You want to scream at soone? Then scream at !"
Thalia froze instantly mid-step.
Sluggishly, her tense hand fell away from the tal doorknob. She pivoted—only partially—her beautiful profile completely shadowed now, masking the internal turmoil.
Cruxius hadn’t uttered a single syllable. His calculating stare remained locked solely on Thalia, utterly unmoving.
Seleyena stepped eagerly forward. She stared at the younger woman with a pathetic, trembling urgency.
The physician dragged in a deep breath, trying to steady her frantic vocal cords. Her restless fingertips fidgeted nervously at her sides—anxiously tugging at the sterile seam of her coat, unknowingly causing the fabric to brush tantalizingly against her still-aching, highly sensitive peaks, as if holding her shattered pride together.
"Thalia... when you ca to my office that ti—when you confessed everything, about being heavily drugged, about the explicit way he utilized your body—I listened. I offered my professional help. I told you I understood."
Thalia’s jaw locked painfully at the humiliating reminder. Her slender arms crossed highly defensively over her chest, inadvertently pushing up her own cleavage. Solely out of lingering respect for the doctor, she remained standing to hear the excuse, even though every instinct scread to flee.
Her stance was rigid, way too straight—like she desperately needed an invisible brace to remain upright, lest she completely fall apart.
"You did," she agreed sharply. "You even helped sneak away."
"I did," Seleyena nodded sluggishly, her tone dropping into a shaful whisper. Her guilty focus plumted to the floor tiles before bravely rising to et the erald glare. "But not for the innocent reasons you initially thought."
That bizarre confession made Thalia blink in confusion.
She shifted her weight awkwardly from one foot to the other, like her entire center of gravity had violently tilted. Her delicate brows pinched together. "What... do you an?"
"I wasn’t rely worried about your well-being," Seleyena admitted, a pathetic, aroused tremble slipping into her wet voice. "I was... insanely jealous."
Thalia’s breath hitched audibly.
Her vision blew wide open, not in fury—but pure, unadulterated disbelief. "What?"
Seleyena exhaled a shaky breath like she’d been physically choking on the secret for days. "I know exactly how insane it sounds. But I—"
"Stop, Doctor. I think I’m finally understanding this sick ga..." Thalia’s jaw visibly tightened.
Her furious glare flicked back toward the bed—where the monster still hadn’t twitched a single muscle.
Her pitch plumted into a biting, venomous whisper.
"Do not lie to my face, Doctor. I know your character. And I unfortunately know his. He must’ve—he absolutely had to have forced you—"
"No!" Seleyena loudly cut in, her desperate tone severely cracking.
Her sweaty digits dug into the edge of her white coat like a physical lifeline. Her pupils—brimming with unshed tears now—shined with sothing fiercely twisted and deeply pained.
"No. He didn’t coerce into anything. I honestly don’t understand how you remain so willingly blind, Thalia... even a bystander like could plainly see how deeply he cares for you..."
"What the hell—?" Thalia didn’t even get the fleeting chance to finish her protest.
Seleyena aggressively took another step forward, her tone significantly sharper now. Her teary gaze locked onto the younger woman with a kind of brutal, naked honesty that made it impossible to look away.
"Do you possess any real comprehension regarding the exact kind of man he truly is, Thalia? The terrifying extent of the power he effortlessly wields?"
Thalia said absolutely nothing, her dry throat tightening painfully—she obviously knew Cruxius was filthy, disgustingly rich. But her small fists rely clenched harder at her sides.
Seleyena didn’t patiently wait for a response. And almost as if reciting a dark, theatrical script, her frantic pupils—completely unnoticed by the distracted Thalia—subtly darted downward toward her own open palm.
She desperately needed to read the exact, commanding words hastily scrawled onto her milky white skin by Cruxius’s pen just monts prior.
The doctor recited the lines, biting her swollen lower lip in lingering arousal, treating this sick monologue as the ultimate test to definitively prove her utter submission.
"He isn’t just wealthy. He is playing god. Untouchable. Cruxius Blac is the direct heir to one of the most ruthless, richest families on this damn planet. If he truly desired it, he could have effortlessly made you vanish overnight. He could have kept you permanently locked away in so sprawling mansion, completely naked, constantly drugged out of your mind, forced permanently onto your knees for his pleasure—and absolutely no one would ever co searching. Not your pathetic stepmother, not your traitorous sister, not even the federal law."
Thalia violently flinched at the graphic, terrifying imagery.
But the desperate physician kept pushing forward. Her glassy focus locked onto her opposite hand, ntally devouring the next inked paragraph while forcefully keeping her posture tall—absolutely determined not to disappoint her new master sitting right behind her.
He had generously granted her a singular chance to be useful, and she hungrily needed to fulfill his dark command.
To physically prove that she was hopelessly addicted to him.
"He could have easily recorded that infamous night—and weaponized it against you. Used your exposed body over and over again. Do you genuinely think he’d be remotely afraid to leak the footage? That a billionaire has more to publicly lose than you? No. He would gladly broadcast your ruined image. Digitally blur his own face. Casually claim the entire scandal was a deepfake. Pay ten separate PR firms to permanently scrub his immaculate na from the internet. And the cruel world would simply move on, leaving you destroyed."
"Stop—please stop—" Thalia muttered weakly.
Her white-knuckled hands slowly loosened as the previously pristine, intellectual image of Doctor Seleyena began completely shattering apart inside her spinning mind.
The highly respectful, composed woman who had once warmly supported her recovery was now deeply tangled in this twisted web, forcing Thalia’s horrifying realization of her own inescapable helplessness and suffocating weakness to rapidly resurface.
Cruxius held the pen between his fingers with a casual grip that didn’t match the heavy, stagnant air of the room. He leaned forward, the crisp fabric of his buttoned sleeve brushing with agonizing slowness against the sensitive underside of her wrist.
His other hand stayed firm, steadying Seleyena’s open palm. It was small, trembling, her slender fingers twitching as if she could already feel the weight of the demands he was about to ink into her skin.
Her blouse had been shoved down earlier in a mont of reckless, ssy heat. Now, it remained bunched just beneath her chest, the fabric pinning her arms slightly and forcing her posture to arch.
Her breasts were bare to the cool air, the pale mounds rising and falling with every jagged breath. Her nipples were stiff, flushed a deep rose, betraying the frantic pulse skipping beneath her ribs.
Faint red marks lingered across the milky white, swollen skin. So were the fading remnants of a hungry mouth; others were clear, finger-shaped bruises drawn across her curves like a map of his earlier possessiveness.
The right nipple looked more sensitive than the left, slightly puffed and darker, as if it had been teased or bitten just a second too long.
A single bead of sweat gathered at the base of her throat.
It glistened under the dim light before sliding downward, tracing a slow path between her cleavage until it rolled directly over the peak of her right breast.
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