Chapter 44
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“Why are you ignoring me?” Stanley’s voice was gentle, almost coaxing.
For a man of Stanley’s stature, power, and influence, his willingness to lower himself to console a woman could easily give the
illusion of deep affection, pulling her in with the temptation of emotional attachment.
But Wendy remained clear–headed, knowing all too well that Stanley’s affection had never been meant for her.
He had given it all to Jessica.
Wendy kept her head lowered, her long lashes fluttering slightly. She still tried to stand up. “Let go of me!”
Stanley’s smile grew more pronounced. “Are you upset?”
Wendy chuckled, finding the idea amusing “What do I have to be upset about?”
Stanley’s tone softened, laced with concern. “Did I hurt you earlier? Did I make you hit your waist?”
Wendy shook her head, denying it, “No.”
But Stanley’s large hand moved to her delicate waist, gently cupping the area as he leaned closer, his voice soft but steady. “Is it
here?”
It was indeed there.
Wendy had noticed the bruises when she looked at herself earlier after the shower. The area was tender and dark purple, and it
would likely take a long time to heal completely.
Now, with Stanley’s hand resting so gently over the injury, she could feel the warmth of his palm, his fingers long and smooth. Despite the gentleness, Wendy resisted.
She hated how he always gave her the stick and then the carrot. She didn’t want his charity. She would rather he remain cruel to
her. After all, without his attention, her injury would heal just the same.
Wendy tried to pry his fingers off, pushing his hand away. “It’s not. It’s fine. Please, let go!”
It was the first time Stanley had seen her genuinely upset. He had witnessed anger before–Jessica could be fiery and demanding when upset, expecting him to placate her.
But Wendy was different. When she was angry, she became quiet, her small head lowered, retreating into herself like a silent, obedient stray cat–a cat so quiet, so docile, it made you want to take her in.
Now, she struggled to push his hand away, refusing to let him touch her.
Stanley looked at her delicate, porcelain face. Freshly showered, she looked like a flower untouched by the world.
“If you won’t tell me, I guess I’ll have to see for myself.” His fingers moved to her shirt hem, slowly lifting it.
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Wendy felt a chill on her thigh and gasped. She then immediately pressed her hand against her shirt to hold it down.
She looked up at him, her eyes wide with shock, like a startled deer, “What are you doing? I’m not wearing pants, you pervert!”
Stanley froze, caught off guard.
He hadn’t meant it.
His only intention was to check the injury, but as he lifted her shirt, he realized his mistake. She had been sitting on his lap the entire time, her long, pale legs draped over his dark pants. The sight was already provocative–her soft curves contrasting with
his firm, tailored fabric.
The image of her thighs, delicate and smooth, flashed through his mind. As her shirt lifted, she quickly squeezed her legs together. It was fair, warm, and soft.
Stanley, who had just been called a “pervert” for the first time, wasn’t sure what to say in reply.
He felt the need to explain himself. “I didn’t do it on purpose.”
Wendy wasn’t listening, “An explanation is just an excuse. You did it on purpose!”
Stanley was left speechless. What could he say?
Just then, his phone rang. The ringtone echoed through the room.
He had placed his phone on the nightstand when he entered, and now Wendy’s gaze shifted toward it. On the screen, a familiar
string of letters appeared–Jessica.
It was Jessica calling-
Wendy figured Jessica had called because she had been waiting for him at the hospital and was wondering where he was.
Upon that thought, she immediately pushed Stanley away, climbing off his lap.
Was he going back to the hospital to be with Jessica tonight?
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