CHAPTER 6: SHE IS WET
1130 Words
Madeline went back to her adopted parents’ house, but before she could even step inside, she was thrown out.
Sharon stood at the doorway, her arms crossed, looking at her with disgust. Then, without warning, she raised her hand and slapped Madeline hard across the face.
“You!” Sharon sneered, her voice dripping with hatred. “I bet those thugs gave you sores all over your body that day. Since you don’t want to leave her, should I tell my parents that you are no longer pure?”
Madeline’s eyes widened in shock. Thugs?
But the man that night… he didn’t look like one.
Did she enter the wrong room?
Her head spun with questions, but she didn’t have time to deal with Sharon’s cruel words. Right now, all that mattered was getting the money for her grandmother’s surgery.
Without another word, she turned and walked away.
The sky rumbled as if mirroring the storm inside her, and within seconds, the clouds burst open, releasing heavy rain.
Madeline had no umbrella. She used her bag to cover her head, but the rain was relentless, soaking her completely. Still, she didn’t stop walking.
At that moment, a sleek black car moved down the street. The driver, seeing a drenched figure in the distance, glanced at the man sitting in the back seat.
“Sir, Miss Madeline looks sad,” the driver said.
At the mention of her name, Williams, who had been working on his tablet, looked up.
His sharp gaze locked onto her.
She was completely drenched. Her dress clung to her body, outlining her figure. Her hair was plastered to her face, and her skin glistened under the dim streetlights.
Williams’ eyes darkened.
“Drive,” he ordered coldly.
The assistant hesitated. “But sir, she—”
“I don’t want someone dirtying my car,” Williams said icily.
His words were final.
Madeline, unaware of his presence, kept walking.
But just as the car was about to pass her, she suddenly lost her balance.
Her legs slipped on the wet pavement, and she fell to her knees.
She let out a sharp gasp, clutching her ankle. Pain shot up her leg.
Inside the car, Williams’ fingers twitched against his thigh.
He watched as she struggled to get up, her hands shaking, her face contorted in pain.
Something inside him stirred.
But instead of acknowledging it, he clenched his jaw.
Seconds passed.
Then, with a sigh of frustration, he spoke.
“Turn around.”
The driver quickly obeyed, bringing the car to a stop beside Madeline.
The door opened.
Before she could react, a strong grip grabbed her wrist.
She looked up—straight into Williams’ cold, piercing eyes.
He didn’t say a word.
He simply yanked her up and pulled her into the car.
Her heart pounded in shock. “What are you—”
“Shut up,” he said coldly, throwing his jacket at her. “I don’t need you dripping all over my seats.”
Madeline sat frozen, her mind racing.
Why was he helping her now?
And why did her heart feel so strange in his presence?
Williams turned away, staring out the window. His jaw was tight, his hands clenched into fists.
Madeline didn’t know it, but he was fighting a battle within himself.
Because the sight of her suffering should have made him feel satisfied.
Instead, it made his chest tighten.
And that… was dangerous.
The ride was silent, except for the sound of raindrops pelting the car roof. Madeline clutched the jacket Williams had tossed at her, her fingers trembling. She could feel the warmth of his body lingering on the fabric, but she quickly shook the thought away.
She turned to look at him. His jaw was clenched, his gaze fixed outside the window, and his fingers tapped rhythmically against his knee.
This was the same man who had humiliated her, insulted her, and thrown her out of his office.
So why was he helping her now?
She wanted to ask, but something about his cold demeanor warned her to keep quiet.
“Where… where are you taking me?” she finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Williams didn’t look at her. “Somewhere you can dry off.”
His answer gave her no comfort.
They drove for several more minutes before the car pulled up to an unfamiliar building. Madeline looked out the window, confused.
This wasn’t a hotel.
It was a luxurious high-rise apartment.
The driver stepped out and opened her door.
Madeline hesitated. “I—”
“Get out,” Williams ordered, his voice sharp.
She swallowed and stepped out. The cold wind bit at her skin, and she shivered as she wrapped the jacket tighter around herself.
Williams walked ahead without waiting for her. She stared at his broad back, hesitating.
Why was he doing this?
But with no other option, she followed him.
Inside, the warmth of the building enveloped her. The floors were polished marble, and a golden chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting a soft glow.
The elevator doors slid open, and Williams stepped in.
Madeline stood frozen.
Was she really going up with him?
Williams glanced at her and frowned. “Do I need to drag you in?”
She quickly shook her head and stepped in.
As the doors closed, her heartbeat quickened. The air felt thick, the space too small with just the two of them.
Neither of them spoke.
The elevator dinged, and the doors opened to a stunning penthouse.
Madeline’s mouth parted slightly as she stepped in.
Floor-to-ceiling windows revealed a breathtaking view of the city skyline. The furniture was sleek, modern, and expensive-looking.
This was his home.
Williams tossed his coat onto the couch and turned to her. “Take a shower. You’re dripping everywhere.”
Madeline clenched her fists.
She didn’t like being ordered around, but she was too exhausted to argue.
“Where’s the guest room ?” she mumbled.
He pointed toward a hallway. “First door on the left.”
Without another word, she turned and walked toward it.
As soon as she shut the door, she exhaled deeply, pressing her back against it.
What was happening?
Why was he being… decent?
And why did she feel something strange in her chest whenever he looked at her?
Shaking her head, she turned on the shower.
She needed to clear her mind.
But what she didn’t know was that outside the door, Williams stood still, his hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable.
His mind was a storm.
Because for the first time in years, he felt something other than anger when he looked at her.
And he didn’t know if he hated it… or wanted more of it.
- Writer
