8
Ten minutes later, the Howard family butler rushed to the living room and called William away.
“Young Master, come quickly! Master Lucas is about to be beaten to death!”
It turned out Mr. Howard Sr. had told Lucas to send me away immediately. When Lucas refused and even proposed getting engaged to me, it had infuriated the old man so much that he had started beating Lucas with a cane.
I followed the crowd to the study door. Lucas was kneeling on the ground wearing only a white shirt. The bloody welts on his back looked
terrifying.
Mr. Howard Sr. kept striking as he yelled: “You little wretch! You little wretch!”
Those four familiar words pierced my ears, awakening long–buried memories.
In my first year of high school, after my grandfather and mother died, Frank seemed to become a different person. If I made even the slightest mistake, he would fly into a rage, calling me a little wretch. He’d make me kneel and whip me with a cane to make me admit my faults. But I was stubborn and refused to give in.
I often wondered if it weren’t for the law against murder, he might have really beaten me to death. Now that scene from the past was playing out before my eyes again.
The cane in Mr. Howard Sr.’s hand broke in two: “Will you admit you were wrong?!”
Lucas’s back was a bloody mess, but he still gritted his teeth and persisted: “You can beat me to death, but I’m still going to get engaged to Sophia!”
Mr. Howard Sr. was so enraged he grabbed a paperweight from the desk, about to smash it down.
Lowa (threw myself over Lucas shouting: “How can he admit he’s wrong when he’s done nothing wrong?!
12:30 PM
<
Lucas is a person, not a pet!”
Mr. Howard Sr. clutched his chest, gasping for breath. In the end, he put down the paperweight. His hand trembled as he pointed at us: “You two…get out of my sight!”
Lucas seemed to be in too much pain to move. He rested his head on my shoulder, his voice weak: “Sophia, thank you.”
I helped Lucas up and took him back to his room. The maid hurriedly left after setting down some medical supplies to clean his wounds.
Lucas lay face down on the bed, glancing at me sideways: “You can go. I’ll do it myself.””
But most of his wounds were on his back where he couldn’t reach. I sighed: “Forget it, I’ll help you. We’re close partners after all.”
I used scissors to cut open Lucas’s shirt from the back. Wounds covered his muscular back, new injuries layered over old scars.
Lucas rested his head on the edge of the bed, his messy bangs covering his eyes. He looked uncharacteristically vulnerable. He fumbled for a pack of cigarettes on the nightstand, lit one, and took a drag. The smoke instantly filled the air, obscuring his face.
The wafting smoke made me wrinkle my nose involuntarily. Lucas’s sharp eyes caught my expression. He pinched out the still–burning gigarette with two fingers, ashing it on the floor. His voice was hoarse: “Can’t stand the smoke?
You should have said so earlier.”
After that, the room fell into a deep silence.
I bent my head, fully focused on cleaning his wounds. When I finished the last step and looked up, I realized he had been watching my every
move through the reflection in the mirror.
Our gazes met in the mirror. I saw him lower his head and smile.
The young master’s smile was truly captivating, even the corners of his eyes held allure.
“You-” he paused for a long moment, “You didn’t get hit, did you?”
“No, I’m not as stupid as you. I know to run when someone’s hitting me. I’m much smarter – I never let Frank beat me like this.”
Lucas’s eyes darkened: “No wonder your movements were so practiced. You’ve had plenty of experience.”
“Alright, shut up. I’m done bandaging you.”‘
Without thinking, I patted Lucas’s butt the way I used to pat Lucky.
The sound echoed in the room. A blush quickly spread across Lucas’s face.
No way, surely Mr. Howard wasn’t this innocent?
I gave an awkward smile and fled the room.
