Those eyes were like a hawk's—cold, distant, and razor-sharp. Danger flickered in their depths, enough to send a chill straight down Mia's spine.
She'd been scared half to death.
"You… you're awake?" she blurted, staring at him.
Lucian's eyes were open, but his pupils didn't move at all. They were fixed, unfocused, like glass.
Mia cautiously set her fingertips against his wrist.
His condition was still terrible. The only reason he could open his eyes at all was probably because of the stimulation from her acupuncture.
She drew a breath, steeling herself, then laid her palm gently over his eyes.
His lashes brushed against her skin, feathery and light, making her palm itch.
Slowly, Lucian's eyelids slid shut beneath her hand.
Mia exhaled in relief and reached for his arm, trying to pry it away from her body.
No luck.
She tugged and twisted, muscles straining, but his arm stayed locked around her like an iron band. All she managed to do was work up a sweat.
Being forced to lie sprawled in a strange man's arms was more than a little uncomfortable.
She was sure she wouldn't be able to sleep a wink like this.
Unexpectedly, exhaustion crept up on her anyway, and she drifted off.
In her dream, it was that night from five years ago all over again.
The room had been pitch-black. A man's hands had clamped around her slender waist, dragging her back against the hard wall of his chest as he took what he wanted, over and over.
Pain and pleasure tangled until she couldn't bear it. She'd sobbed out pleas for mercy.
He had only grown more relentless.
Hot, ragged breaths had brushed the shell of her ear. His voice had been low and hoarse.
"Baby, I'll take responsibility."
Knock, knock, knock—
The sound of knocking wouldn't stop.
Mia's eyes flew open.
A wide expanse of honey-toned chest filled her vision, close enough to touch. Higher up were a strong, elegant throat and a beautifully sculpted jaw.
Realizing she'd fallen asleep in a man's arms, Mia jerked away, practically leaping off the bed.
Annoyance stabbed through her.
When had her guard dropped this low?
"Young Madam, are you awake?" a maid's voice called from outside the door.
"I'm up. Just a minute," Mia replied, forcing her voice to steady.
She changed clothes at record speed and opened the door.
Mrs. Reed stood in the hallway with several servants and the same doctor from last night.
"Mom," Mia greeted softly, lowering her head.
Mrs. Reed answered with a cool, noncommittal sound and led everyone into the room.
The doctor checked Lucian over first.
"The young master's condition is relatively stable," he reported. "For now, his life is not in immediate danger."
Some of the tension drained from Mrs. Reed's face.
"Thank you, Doctor," she said politely.
"You're very welcome." The doctor lifted his medical kit onto the bedside table and took out several IV bags.
Mia's gaze swept over the labels out of habit.
"Wait," she said before she could stop herself.
All eyes turned to her at once.
Mrs. Reed's brows drew together. "What is it?"
"I only meant…" Mia said mildly, "once he's on an IV, it'll be harder to clean his body properly."
"Then wake up earlier," Mrs. Reed said briskly. "Wipe him down before Dr. Shea arrives."
"Yes, ma'am," Mia replied.
When a servant brought in a basin of hot water, Mia stepped forward, wrung out a towel, and began to wipe Lucian down herself.
Even after lying unconscious for so long, years of careful nursing had preserved his body perfectly. The lines of his chest and abdomen were lean and defined, more than enough to make any woman's heart skip.
For some reason, the sensation of being held in his arms last night flashed across her mind.
And, inexplicably, so did the faceless man from five years ago—the stranger who had taken her innocence in the dark.
"Your massage technique is very standard, Young Madam."
Dr. Shea's comment snapped her back to herself.
She realized she'd slipped into a rhythm, her fingers pressing and kneading along his muscles with practiced precision.
Mia lifted her head, expression calm.
"I looked it up online," she said. "It said comatose patients need more massage and stimulation. Before I married in, I specially asked an old traditional doctor to teach me a set of techniques."
Dr. Shea nodded, thoroughly convinced.
"Very good," he said approvingly. "Being in bed all day, the young master will definitely benefit from regular massage. And this particular method is not easy to learn. You must have put in a lot of effort."
Mrs. Reed's expression eased as well.
"You're very thoughtful," she said.
…
After lunch, Mia went for a walk in the garden.
She'd just finished a slow lap and was about to head back when she heard a loud splash in the distance, as if something heavy had been thrown into the water.
She hesitated for only a second before hurrying toward the sound.
On the surface of a lotus-covered lake, a small head bobbed up once, then sank beneath the water.
There was no time to think.
Mia kicked off her shoes and dove in.
"Young Madam!" the maid Mindy shrieked behind her.
Cold water closed over Mia's head. She struck out hard, arms cutting through the lake until her hands found cloth and a thin, limp body.
Moments later she emerged, dragging a little boy of four or five back to shore.
"It's the young master!" Mindy gasped, eyes wide with shock.
Even locked up in prison for five years, Mia had heard about the Reed family's little god of wealth—the rumored illegitimate son of Lucian Reed, heir to the family's billions, their golden little prince.
And now someone had thrown that golden prince into a lake to drown.
Worse yet, he was in her arms.
If there was ever such a thing as a ticking time bomb…
It was the small, sodden bundle in her lap.
Of all people, she had to save this particular trouble.
Still, she couldn't very well toss him back into the water.
Mia took a steadying breath, laid the boy face-down across her knees, and began to pat his back firmly in rhythm.
"Mindy, stop standing there," she snapped when she saw the maid frozen in place. "Go get help. Now."
Mindy jerked back to life and bolted off, shouting as she ran, "Help! Somebody help! The young master fell into the lake!"
"Cough, cough… ugh—"
The little boy gagged and spat up a mouthful of lake water. Color slowly crept back into his cheeks. His long lashes fluttered, then lifted.
"Mommy…"
The weak, milky voice shot straight through Mia's heart.
For a second, all she could see was the tiny faces she'd only ever held once—the twin boys she'd given birth to behind bars and never seen again.
The boy in front of her was pale and exhausted, his lips still tinged blue. Instinctively, she lifted a hand to comfort him, fingers reaching toward his chubby, damp cheek.
Before she could touch him, a rush of footsteps pounded toward them.
In the next heartbeat, strong arms swooped in and yanked the child from her embrace.
Mia's hands twitched.
For an instant she almost fought to pull him back.
Sense returned just in time.
He's not my child.
"Mommy…"
Even in someone else's arms, the little boy stretched his small hands toward her, big eyes locked on her face, silently calling out.
But he was too weak. His voice came out no louder than a mosquito's buzz.
The crowd of panicked adults didn't hear him at all. They just clutched him tighter and rushed him off toward the house, shouting for the doctor.
Mia changed into dry clothes and was immediately summoned to Mrs. Reed's sitting room.
"Mia Stone," Mrs. Reed demanded, "what exactly happened?"
"After lunch I went for a walk in the garden," Mia said. "I heard a splash and saw a child fall into the lake, so I jumped in and pulled him out."
She briefly described what had happened, then paused. The image of the little dumpling staring at her so stubbornly tugged at her chest.
"When I had him," she added, "I checked his condition. There were marks on the back of his neck. It looked like he'd been struck from behind."
Mia knew very well that, as a "lucky bride" brought in to change Lucian's fortune, she was supposed to keep her head down.
The smart move was always: the less trouble, the better.
But she couldn't help it.
She could turn a blind eye to many things.
Just not a child that small.
Mrs. Reed didn't look surprised at all. If anything, her expression only grew more sorrowful.
"This is already the fourth time this month," she murmured, almost to herself. "Poisoned, nearly hit by a car, 'lost' in a crowd, and now dumped into a lake…"
Her hands curled into fists.
"They really don't intend to leave Emmett any way to live."