The night was dark, and a cool evening breeze stirred. Felicia’s hand froze awkwardly in mid-air after her offer was rejected, leaving her feeling foolish. Normally, she would never humiliate herself by clinging to someone, much less insist on tending to their wounds. However, this was different; Stephan had saved her life. He’d been injured because of her, and ignoring it would weigh heavily on her conscience.
Felicia quickly composed herself and reached out again, her voice softening with appeasement. “Mr. Russell, please, let me at least stop the bleeding. Otherwise, I won’t be able to live with myself.”
Stephan turned to look at her. In the darkness, Felicia couldn’t discern his expression, not even his silhouette. His dark eyes churned with intense, unreadable emotions. Her heart skipped a beat; an invisible pressure bore down on her. She didn’t dare, nor did she want to, contemplate what lay behind his gaze.
Stephan chuckled, a thin smile mocking her. “Felicia, do you even have a heart?”
She was speechless, instinctively wanting to retort, but the memory of her departure with Maurice flooded back. Stephan had driven after them, intending to bring her back, only to be… She couldn’t argue, lacked the strength to defend herself. Her hand, beginning to withdraw, was suddenly caught in his firm grip.
For a second, Felicia froze. By the time she recovered, the backseat light had been switched on, and Stephan had released her. Only residual warmth remained on her wrist. This man could change his mind in an instant.
Felicia inwardly complained but acted swiftly. With a few deft movements, she tore open Stephan’s shirt. The gruesome wound on his back silenced her complaints—a deep gash inflicted by a sharp weapon. She remembered Stephan catching her as she fell, bracing himself against something on the ground to protect her. That was why she was unharmed.
The car had a small emergency kit. Opening it, Felicia swiftly and carefully disinfected the injury to stop the bleeding, applied medicine, and bandaged the wound. Even so, the bandage quickly turned crimson.
Lowering her gaze, Felicia recalled her parents' frequent scolding, calling her a jinx. Now, it seemed they might have been right. Since meeting Stephan, she had caused him injury multiple times.
Stephan stared at the top of her head, an unsettling frustration rising in his chest at her silence, her unreadable emotions. With a tense expression, he asked, “Why aren’t you saying anything? Who are you thinking about? Is it Maurice?” The unspoken question hung heavy: What was so good about Maurice?
Felicia looked up, confused. “What? What did you say?”
“Nothing.” Stephan’s tone was colder. The car arrived back in the city; he instructed the driver to stop and let Felicia out. She exited decisively, lingering not a moment.
The black luxury car slowly pulled away, Felicia’s figure shrinking in the distance. Stephan’s eyes remained fixed on the rearview mirror, as if trying to burn a hole through it.
Feeling the tension, the driver cleared his throat nervously. “Mr. Russell, it’s very late. I don’t think we should leave Ms. Fuller on the roadside.”