Chapter 11

The moment that greasy hand was about to rip Victoria's skirt, a scream tore through the haze of noise.

"Ah—"

Black-suited bodyguards appeared from nowhere, moving with brutal precision. In seconds, the men who had been reaching for her were face-down on the floor, groaning, their laughter replaced by cries of pain.

The casino froze. Only the sound of heavy breathing remained.

Edward stepped out from the shadows. He didn't glance at the trash begging at his feet. His eyes locked past the crowd, straight onto the woman by the table.

Victoria stood there, pale as if she'd been hauled out of a morgue, blood smeared across her arm and soaking the gray dress clinging to her frame.

Why was there so much blood? Was she dying?

Her knees buckled. Gasps rippled through the room as she dropped backward.

Finally, no more pain.

Edward's stride faltered. He bent down, scooping her up against him, her body limp and slick with blood.

"Trying to die?" His voice was ice. "Too easy. That would be far too kind."

Her head rested weakly against his chest, smearing crimson onto the expensive fabric of his coat.

"Is it enough… Edward?" Her voice was barely there.

"Clear the room." His command cut like a blade.

He laughed once, low and cold, pressing his fingers deliberately into her wound. "You think this earns you mercy? Bleeding yourself out to fish for sympathy? Still the same cheap trick."

"I won." She ignored the insult, nodding toward the blood-spattered chips. "One million dollars. I did it. Sign."

She only wanted to fulfill Anne's last wish.

Her body could be ruined beyond repair… she didn't care.

Edward stared at her, rage boiling in his chest. How could she be so calm? She'd nearly been torn apart in front of a room full of degenerates, and all she cared about was a contract.

"I said I'd invest if you won." He let go of her, letting her hit the table hard. From his pocket, he pulled a handkerchief, wiping her blood from his skin as if it were filth.

"But I've changed my mind."

Her head lifted, a flicker of emotion breaking through the dead glass of her eyes.

"You can't…"

"I can." He tossed the soiled handkerchief into her face, blocking those eyes he hated. "The rules are mine."

He stepped in, caging her between himself and the table.

"You want that money? Fine."

His gaze swept the filthy room, a cruel smile twisting his mouth.

"Do it here. Please me."

She froze. Color drained from her face.

"Here?"

"What? Not willing?" His voice was a taunt. "Aren't you the one who'll do anything for money? Didn't you want to be my wife? Show them how you fulfill a wife's duties."

He bent toward her, eyes locked on hers.

"Strip."

One word shattered what was left of her dignity.

This man—Anne's love, the man Victoria had once secretly wanted—was telling her to perform for him in a place that stank of smoke and blood, like a bargain-bin whore.

Punishment.

Because she was dirty. Because she'd killed Anne.

"Fine." Her voice went flat again, her expression dead.

She dropped her hand from the wound. Blood dripped from her fingertips, hitting the floor with soft, steady taps.

Her bleeding hand moved to the shredded gray cashmere dress—Anne's favorite.

Now ruined. Stained.

The rip of fabric was sharp in the silent air.

Edward didn't move. His eyes were ice, fixed on her.

He watched her collarbone bare itself to the cold air, her pale shoulder exposed without defense. In this filthy, nauseating place, she was agreeing to let him take her.

The fire in his chest burned hotter. He couldn't stand it.

Cheap.

"Mm…" Pain from her wound made her fingers clumsy. The stubborn button wouldn't release, so she yanked hard.

It popped free, skittering across the floor.

She stood, teeth clenched, dragging her injured leg forward, closing the space between them.

Bloodied hands gripped his shirt.

She was shaking.

Not from shame—from pain, from cold.

She freed the first button, her fingertips icy against the heat of his chest.

"What are you doing?" Edward's voice was sharp. His hand clamped around her wrist.

The grip was brutal, crushing her wound. Pain flared, but she didn't fight. She stopped, lifted her face.

Her eyes were still empty.

Submission.

That damn submission.

"Weren't you proud, Victoria?" His rage snapped loose. He yanked her against him.

One hand locked behind her head, his mouth crushing hers.

No tenderness. No mercy. Only punishment.

His teeth split her lip. Blood filled both their mouths.

"Mmph!"

The suffocating press made her think of that night—Anne covered in blood, the kidnapping. Her hands pushed at his chest, instinctive.

He took it for resistance.

"Playing innocent now?" He shoved her hard. She hit the floor, pain ripping through her.

"Weren't you eager just seconds ago?" He stood over her, chest heaving, wiping blood from his mouth with disgust. "Now you're pure? Victoria, you make me sick."

She'd schemed to marry him, fought to get into his bed, and now she was acting like a victim.

"If you love this place so much, stay. Enjoy it."

From his coat, he pulled a check and tossed it onto her.

"This is what you wanted."

Then he was gone, almost running for the door, as if the air itself could poison him.

His bodyguards followed.

Soren, his assistant, was last.

He stopped, looking back.

Victoria was still on the floor.

She didn't cry. She didn't reach for the check.

She pulled her torn clothes together, braced herself with her good hand, and pushed up inch by inch.

She stood, teeth clenched against the pain.

That look…

No despair. No breakdown. Just a numb, unyielding resilience.

It shook Soren.

This wasn't the spoiled, vicious debutante Edward described.

"Move." Edward's voice snapped from ahead.

Soren turned away, catching up.

The iron doors slammed shut.

Victoria stood alone in the empty hall.

Blood kept running down her arm, pooling at her feet.

The stench of rot mixed with the metallic tang of her own blood, making her stomach turn.

It hurt.

Everywhere hurt.

But she had it.

She bent, picking up the dust-stained check.

Worth it.

She whispered, "Anne… I did it."