John had slapped Dylan again, and bellowed, “You think you can make the decisions now?! Go, slap that maid twenty times for
not knowing her place!”
Though John was in his forties, his sense of superiority was being projected to its fullest at this moment, sending Dylan
stumbling backwards before he knew it.
As two bodyguards promptly went up and restrained Lily, John lowered his tender gaze at me. “Don’t worry. No one will get to
bully you.”
I leaned into his arms, sniffling, “My finger hurts so much. Thank goodness you came when you did…”
Dylan was staring fixedly at us, completely ignoring Lily’s screams as he suddenly said, “Dad, you’re being too close to Wendy. That’s improper–just put her down. I know I’ve made a mistake…”
“What’s improper?” John snapped. “And quit using Wendy’s first–name. She is your elder–I will be marrying her next month.”
1/2
“What?!” Dylan cried on top of his lungs. “I won’t allow it!”
John glowered. “Do you think you can tell me what to do?”
Meanwhile, Levi had prepared the car, while John strode out with me in his arms.
I felt glee even as I turned to look at Dylan’s crestfallen state before we left.
In my past life, I had thought of John as my father, and it was only after he died in an accident that I found out he had feelings for
me from the start, as I bore a striking resemblance with an old flame of his.
So in this life, I secured the best card in play.
Along the way to the hospital, John was grimacing even as he stared at my hand. “It’s all my fault. I should have told Levi to do
something, and you wouldn’t have suffered like this.”
I shook my head and simply remained in his arms, at once delicate and vulnerable.
And the more I seemed that way, the more guilty he felt.
Later, the doctor told us that it was a comminuted fracture, and my sensitivity to touch would be affected.
Hearing that, John looked even more guilty.
