Chapter 728

He felt a little timid. All her tenderness had been a sham; she only sought to inflict a fatal blow. Her mind clung to Marcus, her first love, while she saw him as a demon who had forced and raped her. She cared nothing for him. Why had she attempted suicide? Could it be that every moment spent with him was so unbearable she would rather die than leave him?

Alpha strode into the tub, unbuckled his belt, and roughly took her. The woman beneath him didn't even complain of pain. She simply looked up and smiled. "Alpha," she said, "I haven't showered yet; don't you feel dirty?"

He froze.

"Ha ha ha," she laughed. "Alpha, you're disgusted with me, aren't you? Yes, it's that disgusting feeling. Every time I kiss you or lie beneath you, I feel it."

He quickly closed his reddened eyes, then stared at her against the cold bathtub wall. She convulsed in pain but remained silent, her fingernails raking his muscles, leaving deep, bloody scratches. She cried out, "Alpha, get out! Don't touch me! If you want to vent, go find another woman!"

She had told him to find another woman. He froze. As the foremost nobleman in Imperial's merchant world, he'd been born arrogant, his pride and dignity unshakeable—until she trampled them underfoot.

He withdrew and left. He didn't return for several days, and she didn't contact him. This period was punctuated by Anabelle's sudden pregnancy—she was one month along. He counted the days. This child had been conceived that night with Marcus. She carried another man's child, an illegitimate child.

He began drinking heavily, using alcohol to numb himself, the only way to restrain himself from going to her. He thought he would strangle her; this woman he'd spoiled, how dare she… how dare she hurt him so?

Then Lily sought him out. He'd always known her feelings. Before, he'd never given her a chance, not once. But this time was different. Hadn't Anabelle told him to find another woman? He wondered if her heart ached, if she was jealous.

So he gave Lily a chance, feigning drunkenness and letting her take him to the president's room. That night, Lily believed she had slept with him. She would never know the man was not him, but a replacement. Later that night, Lily also became pregnant.

Anabelle and Lily were both pregnant. He pretended closeness with Lily, accepting her provocations. He knew she often came to the Red Velvet Room with her burgeoning belly to taunt Anabelle, but Anabelle never responded.

She didn't seem to care that Lily carried his child, but something was different. She lost weight rapidly, her mental state deteriorating. She seemed to have abandoned her beloved Fly Jewelry designs; her whole being was silent and empty. The servant said she remained alone in her room all day.

If she still cared about anything outside herself, it was Elvis. He was always by her side, except when studying. The boy curiously touched her belly and asked, "Mom, is it a sister or a brother?"

She would laugh. "Elvis, would you prefer a brother or a sister?"

"Hmm… Although I really want a little sister, I think it might be a little brother."

She only spoke to Elvis, only saw that boy. Since that night, she'd never contacted him again, as if she'd forgotten him.

He hadn't touched her in a long time. He'd never considered what kind of woman he would love, and now, besides her, he couldn't love anyone else. He found himself missing her, but his pride and dignity prevented him from taking the initiative.

Then Lily offered to raise Elvis. He agreed. Lily's petty machinations held little interest; he believed Anabelle loved Elvis so deeply that if Lily took him away, she would come begging.

As expected, she came to Lily that night. He'd returned earlier than planned and waited. But he hadn't expected her to be carrying a knife. After her suicide attempt by drowning, she carried a knife again.

Panic seized him. He raised his hand and slapped her hard. She was as thin as a paper kite; the slap sent her sprawling, her right cheek red and swollen. His hands trembled. This girl, deeply loved and respected, and he, in his deepest pain, had struck her.

He knelt and hugged her tightly. He was terrified, truly terrified. He feared she would one day leave him. She was a grain of sand he held tightly in his palm; the harder he gripped, the faster she slipped away.

Could it be… did she truly hate herself that much?

Afterwards, he returned to the Red Velvet Room, pushed aside his work, and devoted himself to her. Her physical and mental state was poor, her appetite nonexistent. He forced her to eat; she'd obey, then spit it all out.

The doctor had told him privately she was carrying a son. This boy had a quiet temperament, he thought, and would probably resemble her when he grew up. Alpha hadn't thought so at the time, but as he watched Marvin grow, cold and elegant, he saw his mother in him.

At the time, he'd had no intention of keeping this child. He would never allow his woman to bear a son for another man. However, her health was fragile. An abortion, the doctor warned, would be fatal. And she already hated him so much that he felt timid, afraid of pushing her to despair.

So he waited until she gave birth prematurely that September.