Chapter 3
Lily's POV
We slid into a black Mercedes, Marcus gripping my hand the entire ride, his thumb tracing circles on my skin like he needed proof I was real.
The car stopped outside a luxury high-rise on Manhattan's Upper East Side. In the elevator, Marcus stood behind me, hands resting gently on my shoulders, his warmth seeping through my jacket.
When the 50th floor doors opened, I stepped into an elegant living room, then froze. The walls were covered with photographs - all of me.
"Marcus..." My voice came out shaky.
"I've been following your career all these years." He moved beside me, arm sliding around my waist. "Every concert, every public appearance."
Tears blurred my vision. This man had been quietly watching over me for a decade.
"Go take a shower, get into clean clothes." His hand rubbed my shoulder gently. "There's stuff that'll fit you in the walk-in closet."
I entered the massive closet, lined wall-to-wall with women's clothing. He'd prepared an entire wardrobe for me.
I grabbed pajamas and headed to the bathroom. But when I started undressing, what I saw in the mirror shattered me completely.
My neck, my chest - covered in hickies. Some yellowed with age, obviously there for weeks.
Isabella... that BITCH Isabella! She'd used my body with Philip...
"NO! NO! NO!" I clawed frantically at the marks, trying to scrape them off my skin. "Get OFF me! All this disgusting shit!"
Nausea and rage consumed me. I blasted myself with scalding water, scrubbed with the towel until my nails nearly broke skin.
"Why... why did this happen to me..." I collapsed on the bathroom floor, sobbing hysterically. "I don't remember anything... I don't know..."
"Lils?" Marcus's worried voice came through the door. "You okay in there?"
"Don't come in!" I screamed through my tears. "Don't see me like this... don't see how dirty I am..."
But Marcus pushed through anyway. When he saw the marks covering my body, saw me crumpled on the floor in despair, his face turned murderous.
"That bastard." He spoke through gritted teeth. "I'm gonna kill him."
"Don't look!" I tried covering myself with my arms, body shaking violently. "I didn't want any of this! I don't remember anything!"
Marcus rushed over and knelt beside me, pulling me gently but firmly into his arms.
"This isn't your fault." His voice trembled as his hands stroked my hair. "None of this is your fault, Lils."
"But it's MY body..." I sobbed against his chest. "She used my body to do those things... I feel so dirty, so disgusting..."
"Listen to me, look at me." He cupped my face, thumbs brushing away tears. "This isn't the real you. The real you is pure, beautiful."
He kissed my forehead softly, then the tears at my eyes. "That bastard only touched an empty shell, not your soul. Your soul has always been clean."
"Marcus..." I looked at him through blurred vision.
"I swear I'll make Philip pay." His eyes turned ice-cold, but his touch remained gentle. "He'll answer for every second of these ten years."
His hand rubbed my back in soothing circles. "But right now, you just need to know you're back. You're back with me."
"I thought you'd be disgusted by me..." I choked out.
"NEVER." His voice was fierce as he kissed my cheek. "You're MY Lils. My pure, beautiful Lils. These marks can't change how I see you."
He kept pressing soft kisses to my forehead and cheeks, each one light as a feather but heavy with love. "I love you. I love your soul, your heart, everything about you."
"You won't leave me?" I clutched his shirt desperately.
"Never." He continued stroking me gently. "I've waited ten years for you to come back. Now that you're here, how could I ever leave?"
His voice was soft as spring wind, his warmth slowly calming my trembling body. "I'll protect you. I'll make everything right again."
Gradually, under his gentle touches and soft kisses, my emotions settled. Exhaustion crashed over me like a wave - ten years of torture, tonight's escape, the shock of reunion... my eyelids grew heavy.
"Sleep, Lils." He held me tighter, voice gentle as a lullaby. "No matter what happens, you'll always be my Lils. I'll be right here, always protecting you."
In his warm embrace, under his tender caresses, I finally closed my eyes in peace.
For the first time in ten years, I felt truly safe. My knight had returned. I'd never be alone again.
In Marcus's warm arms, I drifted into deep sleep. But in the depths of my consciousness, those sealed memories came flooding back like a broken dam...
The dream started in warm golden hues, like old film reels slowly unfolding.
I was sixteen again, standing by that familiar wooden fence outside our West Virginia mountain home. Sunset poured over the distant peaks like melted honey, air thick with wild roses and mint. Everything felt so real I could feel the evening breeze kissing my cheeks.
Everything was so perfect back then...
"Lils, play us something," young Marcus sat on the fence rail, blue eyes sparkling like gems in the sunset. "How about 'Ave Maria'?"
I lifted my beloved but beat-up violin, and the moment bow touched string, beautiful melody echoed through the valley. Dad's calls from the fields mixed with Mom's dinner prep sounds from the kitchen. These sounds wove together into the most beautiful symphony of my memories.
"Lils, your music's prettier than the sweetest bird in these mountains." Marcus jumped down and walked over, hand caressing my cheek. "Someday the whole world's gonna hear this beautiful music."
"But I don't want to leave here, don't want to leave you." Dream-me said reluctantly.
"You have to chase your dreams." His gaze was determined and loving. "And I'll be your knight forever, through rich and poor. Lils, that's my promise to you."
That night under the old oak, we buried our time capsule full of memories and vows. Moonlight bathed our young faces - everything so innocent and perfect.
If only we could've stayed in that moment forever...
Then the dream's warmth faded, replaced by New York winter's bone-deep gray-white.
I saw sixteen-year-old me dragging a pathetically worn canvas suitcase, standing timidly before Juilliard's imposing gates. Manhattan sunlight was harsh, but that building looked more like a cold prison to me.
Fuck, how did I ever think this place was heaven...
I'd never forget roommate Emily's face when she first saw me. Designer Chanel suit, eyes scanning me like I was trash.
"So you're the scholarship hillbilly?" she sneered. "How... impressive."
The next weeks brought waves of humiliation. The worst was that bathroom assault, rich girls cornering me like hungry wolves in the restroom.
"Mountain trash!" they spat viciously. "Think getting into Juilliard makes you a princess? DREAM ON!"
Cold tiles pressed against my cheek, toilet water mixing with my tears of shame. That despair and helplessness nearly suffocated me.
Those fucking bitches... if I could do it over...
Just when despair consumed me completely, a gentle male voice broke through the painful memory...
"Hi, I'm Philip Brooks. You look upset - need some help?"