Chapter 5

Samuel's eyes traced the scar, landing right where my kidney should've been—on my left side.

Out of nowhere, a memory slammed into him: that anonymous ten-thousand-dollar payment from three years ago.

No! No way!

He jerked his head away, fingers digging so hard into the couch armrest that his fingernails turned white.

He couldn't bring himself to look, couldn't even let himself think about it, couldn't admit the answer that was screaming in his head.

"Quit acting all pathetic. Emily, those are just the battle scars you got from wrestling with stray dogs for food, right?" Samuel said, his voice shaky, like he was trying to convince himself.

Without asking anything else or looking back, he bolted from the bathroom like he couldn't escape fast enough.

*****

The next day, Samuel put me in a pretty red dress and said he was taking me out somewhere. But the dress was so loose it felt like I was swimming in it, and every time the wind blew inside, it sent chills all over me.

To keep the tin box from falling, I grabbed a strip of cloth and cinched it tight around my waist, then pulled the red dress on over it.

It was so tight, the rusty corners of the box jabbed into my ribs, pressing against nothing but skin. It hurt like crazy.

But I didn't dare loosen it. The tighter I cinched it, the safer I felt.

I was scared that if I let up even a little, he would snatch my treasure away.

"Don't make me look bad." He gave me a cold stare and grabbed my arm.

His grip was burning hot, and I instinctively shrank back.

He took me to a place that was loud and dazzling, so bright and busy it made my head spin.

Lights flashed all around, the glare stinging my eyes until I could barely keep them open.

Everyone was dressed in glamorous outfits, swirling wine glasses in their hands, chatting and laughing with elegant smiles.

And right in the middle of all those fancy people, I spotted a pretty lady in a white dress.

She was gorgeous.

As soon as the pretty lady saw Samuel, she held up her skirt and glided over to him.

"You're here," she said, looping her arm through his. Then she shot me a surprised look.

But the pretty lady quickly flashed a smile at me—the kind that made you feel both pitied and looked down on, like she thought I was just pathetic.

"Is this... Ms. Lane? Oh my god, what happened to her?" she gasped, covering her mouth.

Then she turned to Samuel, her eyes all soft and full of pity.

"Don't be too upset. She ditched you for money back then, but now, seeing her like this... guess karma really caught up with her.

"Honestly, just keeping her around and looking after her is more than anyone else would do," she said, her voice gentle.

I just stood there, listening blankly, not understanding a word she was saying.

Ditched him? Karma? What did that even mean?

I stared at the pretty lady, and something just felt off inside me.

She was smiling and saying all these nice things, but for some reason, it felt like she was actually putting me down.

Samuel patted her hand, soaking up the sympathy.

He said coldly, "I brought her along just so she can see for herself how dumb her choice was back then."

The pretty lady's smile turned sugary sweet as she snuggled up to his shoulder. "Let the past stay in the past. We'll be so happy together from now on."

As I watched them act all lovey-dovey, my heart twisted a little.

It wasn't jealousy—it was something else. What a pity. This lady was so beautiful, yet she had no idea Samuel was truly wicked.

He'd throw my bread rolls and snatch my money.

I wanted to warn her, but the words stuck in my throat.

I was afraid. Afraid Samuel would have me tossed out to the dogs again.

Just then, a large, heavyset man waddled over. His belly protruded like he'd stuffed a melon under his shirt.

"Mr. Grant, is this your... ex? Back again, putting on that crazy act?" the fat guy asked, his voice thick with mockery.

He leaned in closer, and the stench of booze hit me like a wall.

"But you're a real softie, Mr. Grant. Only you would take back a gold-digging tramp like her and keep her around as your little pet." As he spoke, his hand "slipped," and red wine splashed from his glass onto the sleeve of Samuel's expensive suit.

"Oh, terribly sorry. Clumsy me," the fat man said, though his face wore a smirk full of provocation. "A generous man like you won't mind, right? Just like you don't mind this woman's... history."

Samuel stared at the wine stain on his cuff, his eyes turning frosty. He didn't blow up or anything—just pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the spot away, slow and steady, like he had all the time in the world.

When he finished, he just tossed the handkerchief down at the fat guy's feet, not even bothering to look at him.

"You flatter me, Mr. Carter. I have a particular dislike for filth. Anything that gets soiled—be it clothing or people..." Samuel said, his voice quiet but laced with a bone-deep chill.

His cold gaze swept over me, cowering behind him, and a mocking smile touched his lips. "I keep only as a reminder of my own past poor judgment. They serve quite well as cautionary tales."

The crowd broke out in a wave of snickers and mocking chuckles.

The fat man's face flushed with anger, but with so many eyes on him, he could only force an awkward chuckle.

Even though I didn't understand all the words, I knew he was being cruel. His voice was sharp, the fat on his face trembling with fury.

He was bullying Samuel!

Suddenly, the fog in my mind parted, just a little.

A hazy memory surfaced—a scene from long, long ago. Someone else was being bullied just like this.

Someone on the ground, while others poured filthy water on him, calling him a stray dog.

My body moved before my mind could catch up.

Without thinking, I dashed forward and planted myself between Samuel and the fat man.

"Stop bullying him!" My voice came out in a shaky cry.

In a panic, I grabbed the nearest wine glass from the table. My hand trembled, sending a splash of dark red liquid flying straight into the fat man's face.

The wine dripped down his cheeks, ran right into his gaping mouth, and left a big red stain on his crisp white shirt.

Suddenly, the whole place went dead silent.

The fat man wiped his face, his entire body shaking with rage. His hand rose, ready to strike. "You crazy bitch!"

Terrified, I squeezed my eyes shut, crouching down and wrapping my arms over my head.

"Run... hurry and run... I'll block him... I'm not scared of the pain..." I whispered into my knees, trembling uncontrollably.

But the slap never came.

A hand shot out and caught the fat man's wrist mid-air.

Cracking one eye open, I saw Samuel standing in front of me, shielding me.

"Samuel! What is the meaning of this? Letting your rabid dog attack people?" the fat man bellowed.

Samuel shook off his hand and turned to look at me.

His face was even gloomier than before, so grim it looked like he'd just swallowed a storm.

"Emily," Samuel called out.

I thought he was praising me. Sam had said once that if anyone ever bullied him, I should fight back—that it was brave.

So I scrambled to my feet and offered him my most eager, pleading smile.

"Mister, I chased the monster away for you!" I said, grinning proudly.

I spotted a splash of wine on his expensive suit—the one that got there by accident earlier.

"Wipe it... wipe it clean, and it won't be dirty anymore..." I muttered to myself, just wanting to help.

Without thinking, I reached out. The red dress I was wearing was silky and spotless, but my hands were rough and calloused.

I grabbed the fancy silk hem, using it like a rag, and clumsily scrubbed at his chest as hard as I could.

The wine stain just smeared, spreading out and turning his crisp white shirt into a total mess.

"Just need to wipe it... wipe it clean, and then it won't be dirty anymore..."

Samuel looked down at me, standing on my tiptoes, clumsily yet earnestly trying to clean the mess on his shirt. For a fleeting moment, it was like all those years ago when I would wipe the sweat from his face after he came home from basketball, reeking and exhausted.

That long-forgotten feeling of having me protect him with everything I had made him freeze up inside, every drop of blood in his body coming to a standstill.

For a moment, he lost track of everyone else in the room. He just stared at this wild, broken woman in front of him, and a strange ache burned behind his eyes.

"Oh my god, she's a total lunatic," someone in the crowd whispered.

The snickers and hushed jeers from the crowd stabbed through Samuel's trance, shattering his momentary illusion.

"Why would Mr. Grant bring someone like her out in public?" someone else whispered.

"What a disgrace..." someone else sneered.

Suddenly, Samuel roughly pushed my hand aside.

His shove was so hard I staggered back several steps before I could catch myself.

"Get lost," Samuel growled.

His voice was cold enough to freeze the air.

He stared at me, his eyes full of disgust. "Emily, do you really think putting on this crazy act is going to move me at all? You just disgust me."

Disgusting? Was I disgusting?

I stood there, frozen, my hand still hovering in the air.

I was only trying to keep him from being bullied.

I wanted to explain, but facing those icy eyes, my throat seemed to clog shut. Not a single word came out.

So, even if I beat the monster for him, he wouldn't give me any candy.

He'd just shove me away, thinking I was gross.