The curtains in the room were drawn tightly shut, not a single ray of light seeping through.
The air was thick enough to suffocate—an intoxicating musk that made one's face heat and heart race, yet mingled with an extremely cold, sharp scent of cedar.
That was the smell of Christopher Hayden.
***
Amelie Ford jolted awake in that suffocating haze. Her entire body felt as though it had been run over by a heavy truck, aching so badly she could barely move. The inside of her thighs burned most of all.
As her consciousness returned, the absurd, fragmented, out-of-control scenes from last night flooded her mind like a raging tide—
The man's ragged breathing, the crisp clack of prayer beads striking the headboard, and the way he had forced her, again and again, to call out those names…
"Awake?"
A voice devoid of any warmth poured over her like ice water.
Amelie shuddered violently and instinctively clutched the velvet bedsheet beneath her, trying to cover the bruised, purplish marks scattered across her shoulders.
By the floor-to-ceiling mirror not far away, Christopher stood with his back to her.
He was already fully dressed. His jet-black luxury brand suit was immaculate, not a wrinkle in sight. His head was slightly lowered as his long, pale fingers calmly fastened the gold-rimmed cuff buttons.
If Amelie hadn't seen it with her own eyes, who would believe that this man—so abstinent and aloof, even reverently called "the Living God" of K-City's elite circles—had only hours ago torn apart that façade and ravaged her without mercy?
Amelie bit down on her bloodless lip, her throat dry as if she had swallowed a handful of sand.
"Uncle… I––"
The moment the title left her lips, Christopher's movements paused ever so slightly.
In the mirror, his narrow phoenix eyes lifted. Through the thin lenses of his gold-rimmed glasses, a glint of cold mockery flashed.
"Since you're awake, don't keep lying there. Get ready to leave."
Christopher turned and strode toward the bed.
As he drew closer, that chilly cedar scent swept over her again. Amelie shrank back instinctively, trying to retreat into the corner of the bed, but a warm, large hand caught her chin.
The pads of his fingers were rough with calluses from years of handling prayer beads. They grazed her delicate cheek, sending a shiver through her.
"Afraid of me?" Christopher looked down at her from above, his eyes utterly calm, as though he were gazing at an object he had just used—and found passable.
"I… wouldn't dare." Amelie's eyes reddened, her voice trembling.
Christopher let out a soft laugh that never reached his eyes. He released her, took a black card from his pocket, and casually tossed it onto the messy bed.
The edge of the card brushed against the sheets with a faint sound—almost like a wordless humiliation.
"Take it."
Amelie's face drained of color. She stared at the card, her nails digging deep into her palm. "What do you mean?"
"What, do I have to teach you?" Christopher slowly picked up the tie draped at the foot of the bed, looping it around his hand and giving it a light tug. His voice was flat and indifferent. "Buy some pills. We were in a hurry last night—no protection was used. I don't like trouble, and I don't want any scandals involving the Hayden family."
A scandal.
Those crude words struck Amelie like a slap.
That's right—she was the Hayden family's adopted "orphan." Though they shared no blood ties, in the eyes of outsiders, he was still her elder. Her relative.
If this ever came to light, she would be the shameless woman who seduced her uncle… while he would remain the untouchable head of the Hayden family.
"I don't want the money." Amelie lifted her head stubbornly, tears pooling in her eyes. "Last night was… was an accident. Let's just pretend it never happened, okay?"
"Pretend it never happened?"
Christopher looked as though he'd heard a joke. He bent down, bracing his hands on either side of her body. His aggressively oppressive presence instantly enveloped her.
He leaned close to her ear, warm breath brushing her skin, yet his words were brutally cold.
"Amelie, does your body still hurt?"
Amelie momentarily froze, but then her skin got covered in goosebumps.
"See? Your body remembers more clearly than you do."
Christopher straightened up and used the black card to lightly tap her cheek, his tone leaving no room for refusal. "If you don't want the money, are you trying to tell me you let me sleep with you for free last night?"
In that instant, Amelie's dignity was crushed beneath his feet like a wilted flower.
Her hand trembled as she reached out and grasped the icy card. "I understand. I'll go buy the pills then."
"Good."
Christopher was finally satisfied. He even reached out, as if rewarding a pet, and ruffled her messy short hair. Then, without sparing her another glance, he turned and pulled the door open.
Bang.
The door slammed shut, sealing off all the cruelty and lingering intimacy inside.