Chapter 6
Chapter 6
Doris’s parents had always favored their youngest child over their other kids. Peyton, her mother, might have held some affection for Doris, but it was sparse and fleeting. For Rupert, Doris’s younger brother, they were willing to sacrifice anything —even their own daughter Doris,
A chill spread through Doris’s heart, a frost slowly thickening over the depth of her soul. Her chest tightened, the numbing cold spreading to her fingers as she clenched her hands into lists, the knuckles turning pale. “Fine. I get it.”
Jimmy assumed Doris had come to her senses. His expression softened into what he believed was reasoned persuasion.
“Good. It’s for the best. Mr. Watson is your perfect match–your only real future.
Doris’s
is lips curled into a grimm smile as she retorted, “If you’re so fond of Ryan, why don’t you marry him yourself?”
Her words hit like a slap, and Jimmy’s face darkened, his fury igniting instantly. “You ungrateful brat… he roared. “Piss off. Get out of my sight.”
Before Doris could react, Jimmy slammed the door shut before her with finality. His voice thundered from the other side. Tve already changed the locks. Don’t even think about coming back unless you make up with Mr. Watson. Until then, stay out there and think about what you’ve done.”
Peyton hesitated, her voice trembling with unease. Jimmy, it’s so late, and it looks like it’s raining outside…”
Jimmy spun toward her, his anger now directed at his wife. “Are you trying to make things worse? If you’re so concerned, why don’t you go out there and join her?”
Peyton recoiled as tears welled up in her eyes.
Jimmy sneered, his voice dripping with disgust, “Crying again? That’s all you ever do. It’s exhausting. Now get in the kitchen. and make dinner. I’m starving”
Silently, Peyton wiped her tears in a hurry and swallowed her sorrow, retreating into the kitchen without another word.
Outside, Doris stood frozen in the rain, taking deep breaths as she fought back the tears stinging her eyes. Her family home had never been a place of warmth or love to her.
It had always been a cold, suffocating cage, and now that cage had been slammed shut.
Jimmy and Peyton had two daughters and a son. Doris was the middle child.
Her older sister, Laura Reed–now Laura Webb–had dutifully obeyed their father’s wishes and married the owner of a small business. She was now a full–time housewife.
Her younger brother Rupert, the golden child, had reconnected with an old community college classmate, Claudia Robinson. After dating for two years, the two were set to marry, even though Rupert had only just turned twenty–two.
Doris, on the other hand, had always been the rebellious one, the black sheep. Her decision to break up with Ryan only confirmed her parents‘ long–held belief that she was the problem child, the ungrateful one.
Before she realized it, her aimless steps had led her to Hampstone General Hospital
She stopped outside, her feet unwilling to move further. She couldn’t bring herself to disturb Margaret, who was resting upstairs. Instead, she sank onto a bench near the hospital entrance.
The rain fell softly, a gentle drizzle painting the night sky. Doris tilted her head back, watching the raindrops streak across the faint glow of the streetlights. A hollow ache filled her chest, a deep sense of loneliness seeping into her bones.
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Chapter 6
Doris’s hand reached for her phone, fingers hovering over Lola’s contact as she wondered if she should call her.
Before she could decide, a shadow fell over her, and the sound of raindrops softened. Looking up, she saw a large black umbrella shielding her from the rain.
Lewis stood before her, one hand holding the umbrella steady. His crisp white shirt had its sleeves rolled up, revealing strong, muscular forearms.
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His eyes, calm and steady, gazed down at her, taking in the sight of her fragile frame. Doris sat there like a drenched kitten. shivering and despondent, abandoned by the world.
Lewis had just stepped out of the hospital, his sharp eyes immediately landing on Dors. She sat alone in the rain, her hair dampened by the drizzle, strands clinging to her face. Her expression carried a quiet sorrow, and her disheveled appearance was painfully noticeable.
As he approached, his gaze sharpened, catching the swollen redness on her left cheek. His voice was steady but laced with concern. “What happened to your face? Who hit you?”
Doris lowered her gaze, her long lashes casting shadows over her cheeks. She had no intention of airing her family’s dirty laundry, so she said nothing.
Lewis studied her for a moment, then decided not to press further. “Why are you here?”
“I…” Her voice cracked, dry and hoarse. “I have nowhere to go. Can L… stay with you for the night?”
Without a word, Lewis handed her his umbrella, the handle cold against her fingers. “Come with me.” He turned on his heel, his steps sure and confident, leaving Doris to follow behind, the umbrella shielding her from the rain.
At the roadside, he flagged down a taxi with a single wave.
Once they were inside, Lewis pulled out his phone and sent a quick message to his driver: [Pick up the Aston Martin I left at the hospital and take it to the company’s underground garage.]
Lewis had driven his sleek Aston Martin to the hospital to visit Margaret, never expecting to run into Doris.
But he couldn’t risk exposing his true identity, so leaving the car behind was his only option.
The ride was quiet, the hum of the tires on wet pavement filling the space between them. Twenty minutes later, they arrived at Greenlake Hill, a boutique residential complex known for its exclusivity and tasteful design.
Lewis unlocked the door with a quick fingerprint scan and gestured for Doris to step inside.
The interior was a minimalist masterpiece–sleek black, white, and gray tones seamlessly blended to create an atmosphere that was both modern and coolly detached. The clean lines and precise organization mirrored Lewis’s own sharp, controlled demeanor.
“Have you eaten?” His voice, calm and deep, broke the silence.
Doris turned, meeting his gaze, and shook her head honestly.
Take a hot shower first,” he instructed, already heading toward the master bedroom. “You’ll catch a cold otherwise. There are clean towels in the bathroom cabinet.”
When he returned, he held out a loose white cotton T–shirt and a pair of casual pants. “There’s no women’s clothing here, so you’ll have to make do with these.”
Doris accepted the brand–new clothes, her fingers curling around the soft fabric. Her hoarse voice was low, almost a whisper.
“Thank you.”
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“We’re married. No need for thanks” His tone was matter–of–fact as he opened the bathroom door for her. “After your shower, use an ice pack on your cheek. I left one on the coffee table.
His attentiveness and quiet care stirred a mix of gratitude and warmth in Doris’s heart.
Once inside the bathroom, she turned on the shower, letting the warm water cascade over her. The steady stream washed away the rain’s chill, soaking into her skin and gradually thawing her frozen body
With each drop, it felt as if some of the icy walls around her heart were beginning to melt.
When she emerged from the shower, her face clean and her damp hair hanging loosely over her shoulders, she was dressed in the oversized clothes Lewis had provided.
The T–shirt and pants were far too big for her, their loose fit emphasizing her slender frame, but they were soft and carried the faint, comforting scent of freshly laundered fabric.
Stepping out of the bathroom, Doris was greeted by the aroma of something savory. Her stomach immediately growled in
response.
Doris walked to the living room and picked up the ice pack, pressing it gently against her swollen cheek.
In the kitchen, Lewis was standing at the island counter, his movements crisp and efficient as he placed a steaming plate of spaghetti bolognese on the dining table beside it.
“Come here,” he called to her.
Doris hesitated for a second before stepping closer. Her eyes landed on the plate of pasta, the rich aroma wafting up to tease her senses. The
involuntarily auce glistened under the soft lighting, and the dish looked so inviting it made her stomach growl
She swallowed hard, the hunger she had been ignoring now impossible to suppress.
There wasn’t much else in the kitchen, so you’ll have to make do with this, Lewis said, pushing the plate and a fork toward
her.
Doris blinked, her expression almost questioning. “You… made this? For me?”
He leaned casually against the edge of the solid wood table, his strong hands resting on the surface. “Didn’t you say you were hungry?”
Taking his words as permission, Doris sat down and dug in without hesitation. The first bite melted on her tongue, the perfect balance of tangy tomato and aromatic spices flooding her senses.
Before she realized it, tears began to spill from her eyes, sliding down her cheeks and Landing into the bowl.
“What’s with the tears?” Lewis frowned, his brow furrowing as he reached for a box of tissues. He slid it across the table to her, his tone faintly teasing. “I didn’t bully you, did 1?”
Doris let out a watery laugh, her teary eyes shimmering under the light. Her delicate features, paired with her vulnerability. made her look heartbreakingly lovely. “It’s just… this spaghetti is so good,” she said, her voice trembling but earnest.
Lewis’s lips quirked into a faint smile. “Not everyone gets to try my cooking, but you don’t have to get that emotional about
it.”
He reached for a wine glass, pouring a modest amount of deep red wine that swirled like velvet in the light.
Doris hesitated as she watched him. “Isn’t it bad to drink so late at night?”
“Not if it’s a little red wine before bed, Lewis replied smoothly, swirling the glass with practiced ease. The dark liquid fanned
Chapter 6
out in mesmerizing patterns, rich and inviting. “It’s good for your health–if you don’t overdo it”
Doris studied him for a moment, her thoughts drifting. He’s so young, and he’s already into wellness? Who would ve thought? she pondered.
Lewis noticed her scrape the last bit of pasta from the plate, his smile deepening. “You really enjoyed it, hubr
“Mr. Hartman,” she said, turning to him with a rare spark of playfulness. She gave him a thumbs–up. “Your cooking is incredible. I’m impressed. I’ll do the dishes”
From the living room, Lewis sat on the couch and watched her tidy up the kitchen, his gaze lingering on her graceful movements. The soft light outlined the genile curve of her back, her presence somehow warming the otherwise starkly modern space.
He took a slow sip of wine, the rich flavor grounding him as he observed her.
When Doris finished, she turned back toward him, wiping her hands on a towel.
“Come here,” Lewis said again, his tone softer this time.
Doris approached and sat down beside him. He reached for a small medical kit he’d placed on the coffee table, flipping it open with practiced precision.
“You need to treat that check,” he said, taking out a tube of ointment. He squeezed a dollop onto a cotton swab and leaned in. The distance between them closed quickly. His hand moved with confident case as he dabbed the ointment onto her swollen skin, his touch surprisingly gentle. Their breaths mingled in the quiet space, the faint scent of his cologne mixing with the clean, slightly sterile aroma of the ointment.
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