He Took My Vengeance to Covet Me

Chapter 7

A chill seeped into my skin where the IV needle pierced my hand. I flexed my fingers instinctively, trying to shake off the unnatural cold.

"Hold still."

Lucas stood rigid beside my bed, adjusting the stand that held a glass bottle connected to my vein by a snaking tube. When he saw my confusion, he said matter-of-factly, "Intravenous drip. Delivers medicine faster than oral doses."

My throat felt like sandpaper as I croaked, "What's wrong with me?"

His lips twisted into a wry smile. "Poisoned. Didn't you notice?"

I barely managed to shake my head before dizziness slammed into me. I squeezed my eyes shut and curled into a tight ball on the mattress, frozen like a trapped animal.

His shadow loomed over me. "Miss Carter, what could you possibly have done to warrant such an... exclusive poison?"

My eyes flew open to see him studying me with clinical fascination. "Frankly, I can't decide whether to console you or congratulate you," he continued. "This fungal toxin is worth its weight in gold—even in the West. Someone paying that price for your death... consider it a backhanded honor."

The way he said it—almost cheerful—made my stomach churn. "What did you eat this morning?"

A weak laugh escaped me. "You're enjoying this."

"Naturally." His grin widened. "I'm among the handful who can treat this. Without me? You'd be cooling in the morgue by now."

Ignoring his smugness, I listed my breakfast items between shallow breaths.

His eyebrows shot up. "Ethan personally ordered these for you?"

I nodded weakly, ready to surrender to exhaustion—until the crushing silence jolted me awake. My voice cracked. "Ethan... wants me dead?"

The amusement vanished from his face. A pause. "Winnie," he said quietly, "now that you know... what will you do?"

What could I do? Ethan had marked me for death—a sacrificial offering to Chloe. Should I wait politely for the executioner? I'd contemplated death before. But choosing my own end... and having it chosen for me? Worlds apart. Tremors wracked my body as I grabbed Lucas's arm with desperate fingers...

"Lucas, I'm begging you... please... get me out of here," I pleaded, my voice breaking with desperation.Lucas's face clouded with hesitation. "Miss Carter, I'm under Anthony's command. If I help you escape, I'd have to take you straight back to him."The mere mention of Anthony sent ice flooding through my veins. No—I'd rather die from Ethan's poison than return to Anthony. Icy sweat poured down my back, my forehead beading with moisture as my lips trembled uncontrollably.Seeing me like this, Lucas's eyes softened with fleeting pity. Fighting against my shaking limbs, I ignored the IV needle in my hand and clutched at his wrist like a lifeline."Lucas, please," my voice cracked raw. "Help me disappear. Ethan and Anthony are both demons. I can't keep living like this."Lucas sighed, his expression heavy with resignation. "Miss Carter, it's not that I won't help you. But the Bennett family's influence is untouchable right now. Helping you would be suicide for me too. I... just can't."The hopeless truth settled like a stone in my chest. Lucas had been Anthony's plant all along—his position in Ethan's household already precarious. Helping me would make him an enemy to both powerful men.My hand fell limp to the bedsheets. Hot tears traced paths down my cheeks—my silent admission of defeat. I drew my knees up tight, making myself small against the headboard."I'm sorry, Lucas," I whispered. "That was too much to ask."His fingers gently brushed away my tears. "Shh, don't cry. Just... give me time to think. We'll figure something out."I knew it was hollow reassurance. Anthony and Ethan were forces of nature we couldn't hope to challenge. I'd clawed my way through hell this long for revenge—I wouldn't drag an innocent man down with me now.He remained until the IV bag ran dry, then wordlessly collected the medical supplies and left.Escape wasn't just an option—it was my only chance at survival.

Lucas told me Ethan had only given me a tiny dose of poison—my weakened body simply couldn't handle it. He'd probably planned to finish me off slowly.

I still couldn't figure out why Ethan would go through all this trouble to get rid of me, but survival mattered more than answers these days. To avoid suspicion, I played the obedient doll these past few days.

Meanwhile, he was too busy preparing for his grand wedding to Chloe, only holding me at night before falling asleep.

As the groom, Ethan would be swamped during the lavish ceremony—too distracted to notice me. Which meant... their wedding day was my golden ticket out.

The night before the wedding, he pulled me close as usual, his alcohol-tinged breath hot against my neck. "Winnie," he slurred, "tomorrow's my wedding. But you know what excites me most? It's not marrying the commander's niece." His Adam's apple bobbed as he ground his hardness against me. "What I really want is to claim you properly on my wedding night."

His fingers dug into my hips. "Every time I make you moan," he growled, "I imagine how much louder you'd scream if I were inside you." The heat of him burned against my core with every thrust.

"Mmm... I don't—ah..." My soft moans only made him wilder. Playing my part, I reached for his waistband, but he grabbed my wrist and squeezed my backside hard. "Wait till tomorrow, Winnie," he promised darkly. "I'll make you scream so loud, you'll know exactly who owns you."

I let out a shaky breath and let him do as he pleased until the alcohol dragged him into a drunken sleep, his arms like iron bands around me.

At dawn, the deafening crash of gongs and drums startled me awake. The estate blazed crimson with wedding silks when I peeked outside. When I checked the courtyard, I noticed a third of my usual guards were missing—diverted to wedding duties, no doubt.

After three years with Ethan... if I said I felt nothing, I'd be lying. But now that everything was falling apart, none of that mattered anymore.

Survival was everything—my only shot at making Anthony pay.

Letting Ethan kill me? Not a chance in hell.

I threw on a maid's uniform and vanished into the sea of wedding guests.

When Chloe arrived that evening, my plan was simple—play the dutiful servant delivering dates and bolt for the side gate.

The banquet began in a flash. There stood Ethan, wearing the same damned wedding robes we'd chosen together years ago.

Clutching the tray of dates until my knuckles turned white, I suddenly ducked my head.

I'd told myself I was done hurting—not because I'd turned heartless, but because he wasn't worth another tear.

"Rites completed! To the bridal chamber!"

The master of ceremonies' voice boomed as I trailed behind Chloe's maids, keeping my head down at the very back.

The side gate stood just ahead—freedom was three steps away.

As my foot crossed the threshold, I almost gasped with relief.

Then—an iron grip locked around my wrist like a shackle.

My heart stopped. Dates clattered across the stones. I couldn't—wouldn't—look up to see who'd caught me.