Chapter 3

Mel's POV

I was looking through the closet for clothes when a pair of arms suddenly reached around from behind, locking firmly around my waist.

Zachary rested his chin on my shoulder, his warm breath fanning against my neck.

"Tonight is the company’s anniversary gala," Zachary murmured. "Everyone who matters will be there. Change your clothes and come with me."

My back stiffened. My hands balled into tight fists at my sides, but I didn't pull away.

That sickly sweet perfume drifted from his collar, invading my nose.

Looking at our reflection in the full-length mirror, I said, "Okay."

Zachary released his grip, stepped around in front of me, and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

The rough pads of his fingers brushed my earlobe, sending a shiver of revulsion down my spine.

I raised my eyes to meet his. "In these past three years, why didn't you visit me even once?"

The faint smile on his face vanished, and he peered into my eyes.

"You were acting out too violently back then," Zachary answered smoothly. "The doctors warned me that family visits would trigger you. It was better for your recovery if we stayed apart."

A cold smirk tugged at the corner of my lips. "Then do you really know nothing about the beatings I took in there?"

Zachary arched an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"

"Being strapped to an iron frame by leather belts and force-fed drugs," I said evenly. "More than two hundred times."

Zachary didn't even flinch. "That was standard medical treatment. The doctors just wanted you to get better quickly."

I rolled the word around in my mind. "Treatment."

Smashing my head against the wall in solitary confinement, having orderlies drag me by the hair and slap me across the face—in his mouth, it was all just proper treatment.

Zachary checked his watch. "The car will be downstairs at eight. Get dressed quickly."

He reached into his suit jacket, retrieved a palm-sized black velvet box, and tossed it carelessly onto the vanity.

The lid popped open, revealing a pair of cheap, thin silver thread earrings that looked like they cost a dollar from a street vendor.

"Picked them up on my way back," Zachary said casually. "Put them on. They match your plain dress, so people won't go around saying I mistreat you."

I reached out, pinching the freezing cold silver threads between my fingers. "How much did you pay for these?"

Zachary chuckled lightly. "Why care about the price? Are you calling them cheap?"

I squeezed my hand tight. "No. They’re quite fitting."

Suddenly, Zachary’s phone buzzed violently in his trouser pocket.

He pulled it out, glanced at the screen, and the tense line of his mouth instantly softened. The fondness in his eyes couldn't be concealed.

Zachary hurried toward the door. "Yeah, it’s me. Where are you? Don't wander off, I'm coming to pick you up right now."

The door slammed shut behind him. His hushed laughter echoed down the hallway, accompanied by brisk, hurried footsteps fading into the distance.

I was left all alone in the room.

Standing in front of the mirror, my face devoid of emotion, I threaded the cheap silver earrings through my earlobes.

The woman in the glass had hollowed cheeks, with two flimsy silver wires dangling beside her neck.

I rubbed my cheeks, forced a perfectly polite fake smile, and instantly wiped it away into a cold, flat mask.

I wouldn't cause a scene tonight.

I wanted to see with my own eyes what kind of face that woman possessed.

It was almost eight when Zachary pulled the car back up to the entrance, sounding two short honks.

I walked down and took the passenger seat. Zachary made no mention of where he had just been; he merely reached over to adjust the cheap silver earring by my ear right before I stepped out.