The black Bentley rolled slowly out of Blackwood Manor.
Streetlights flickered into the cabin, casting half of Chris’s body into shadow as he traced the bite mark on the web of his hand.
“Mr. Xander, Jacob’s attending doctor called,” Gavin said as he turned the steering wheel and glanced in the rearview mirror. “His condition is stable now. There’s no hidden risk to his brain, and he’s completely out of danger. He should be discharged in a few days.”
Chris pressed his thumb against the bite mark. Light slipped through the gaps between roadside branches, glinting off his lenses. His eyes behind the glasses were deep and unreadable, like a bottomless abyss. “Withdraw the men guarding his room. Let him leave the hospital whenever he wants.”
“Yes.”
Once the car left Blackwood Manor, the speed picked up noticeably. Soon, it disappeared around a bend in the main road.
Late at night, in the master bedroom bathroom at Blackwood Manor, Winter looked at herself in the mirror. Red marks were scattered across her chest. Thinking back on what had happened earlier, she felt a mix of disbelief and pent–up anger.
What exactly was Chris trying to do?
They had been married for three years. He had only touched her once, when he was drunk. Yet in less than half a month, he had already touched her twice.
She didn’t believe Chris was the kind of man who would try to get his fill before a divorce.
So what was he after?
She couldn’t figure it out at all.
She had never been able to read his mind.
He could refuse to let her move out all he wanted but she simply wouldn’t stay here.
She had woken up half an hour earlier and couldn’t fall back asleep, so she got up and took a shower.
Winter shook off the tangled thoughts and wrapped herself in a towel. As she stepped out of the bathroom, her eyes involuntarily drifted to the disheveled bed. Images of the night’s chaotic intimacy flashed unbidden in her mind.
She frowned. This time, Chris hadn’t left anything inside her, sparing her the need for the morning–after pill.
After getting dressed, Winter didn’t leave right away. Instead, she went to the study she used to use.
When the sun came up, she would still courier-deliver a thirds office at Xander Corporation.
Mrs. Young was asleep, but Winter had forgotten about the guards on night duty.
Lights were on in the guardhouse against the snowy night.
As soon as a car pulled out, a guard stepped forward to block it.
Winter hit the brakes and looked up. It was the same guard who had accompanied her to the hospital last time. He was big and solid, tall and broad–shouldered, with a look that suggested he wasn’t easy to deal with. But he followed orders well.
The guard walked up, bowed respectfully, and motioned for her to turn the car back.
“Ma’am, it’s not safe to be driving this late at night. You should go back inside.”
Winter didn’t respond. She kept both hands on the steering wheel and leaned back in her seat, meeting his gaze through the windshield.
She couldn’t sleep anyway. She was prepared to sit it out and see who lasted longer.
The guard stood there for half an hour. Snow settled on his shoulders, yet he didn’t move an inch.

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