Chapter 8
In the days that followed, Calista would overhear updates about Eric and Estelle from the nurses‘ daily chatter.
“Mr. Callahan bought Ms. Denshaw another diamond necklace yesterday!
“I heard Ms. Denshaw had a sudden craving for cake from the east side of the city, so Mr. Callahan went to buy it himself–and even queued for two whole hours!
“He’s absolutely head over heels in love.”
Lying on her hospital bed, Calista listened in silence.
She thought she would be heartbroken, but instead, she realized her heart had long gone numb, so numb that the pain barely registered anymore.
At last, the day of her discharge came. Calista slowly began packing her few belongings.
Suddenly, the ward door swung open, and Eric’s tall figure appeared in the doorway.
“The doctor said you’re malnourished and might have trouble conceiving.” His voice was cold as his gaze swept across her pale, gaunt face. “I’m taking you to eat.”
Calista wanted to refuse, but Eric had already turned and walked away, not bothering to wait, confident she would follow him.
At an upscale restaurant, the crystal chandelier cast dazzling light across the room.
Eric ordered a spread full of nourishing delicacies–everything meant to help restore her health.
“Eat,” he instructed, tone clipped and emotionless.
Calista picked up her fork and began eating slowly, her movements robotic.
Eric sat across from her. As he sliced his steak with precision, he would occasionally glance up to watch her.
The air between them was thick and unnervingly quiet.
Then, as a waiter came to replace their water, he accidentally spilled a glass of lemonade onto Calista’s shirt.
“I’m so sorry! Really sorry!” the waiter stammered.
The cold drink soaked through the fabric, and in seconds, her thin shirt. turned sheer, clearly outlining her undergarments.
Calista hugged herself instinctively, noticing Eric’s gaze darkened.
“Are you full?” he asked, his voice low and slightly hoarse.
She nodded.
Without warning, Eric stood up and swept the plates off the table. The crash of porcelain drew surprised glances from nearby diners. “Now it’s my turn,” he said.
He pulled Calista toward him, pressing her down onto the table.
She winced as her back hit the cold surface.
“Not here… Please…” she whispered, trembling.
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Eric ignored her and lifted her skirt.
Then, he took her right there on the table.
“Ah!”
Calista gasped from the sudden pain, her hands clutching the edge of the table.
His movements were intense and relentless, filled with pent–up emotion.
The table shook under them, silverware clinking with every shift.
“Relax,” he muttered, voice raspy. “You’re so tense…”
Calista bit her lip to stop any sound from escaping. Tears slid down her cheeks silently..
Other guests had quietly left, and the restaurant staff kept their distance.
Eric did not stop for the entire afternoon.
From the table to the sofa, then to the window, he seemed driven by something wild and unspoken.
He had left mark after mark on her body.
“Let me hear you,” he murmured against her ear, his breath hot. “I like the sound.”
However, Calista kept her lips tightly sealed, refusing to give in even ast the metallic taste of blood touched her tongue.
That silence was her last shred of pride.
Eventually, exhaustion overtook her, and she lost consciousness.
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In the haze, she felt someone gently brushing away the tears on her face-
a touch so tender it made her heart ache.
It had to be a dream.
Because Eric could never be that gentle.
Then everything faded to black.
