The Flames of Retribution

Chapter 2

As I walked out of the Hedon Club, my entire body trembled uncontrollably from the high fever.

My steps were unsteady, and I stumbled forward, vision blurred. I bumped headfirst into the embrace of a man in a trench coat. The pungent smell of disinfectant emanating from him brought me back to my senses.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," I mumbled, apologizing as I rose from the man's arms.

My gaze fell upon a familiar-looking watch on his wrist. It was a limited-edition piece, so exclusive that even Anthony couldn't get his hands on one.

I guessed who he was, but I didn't look up. There was no need.

"You're bleeding." The man's voice was deep and magnetic, yet laced with fatigue.

"It's nothing." I turned to leave, not wanting to stay. I wanted nothing to do with anyone who had ties to Anthony.

But as soon as I took a step, I was swept off my feet from behind. I gasped in surprise, locking eyes with the man.

Joshua's handsome yet cold face appeared inches from mine. Our breaths mingled, warm and close. I could even hear the rapid thump of his heart.

"As a doctor, I can't just stand by and watch someone suffer from an illness."

I scoffed. "Since when were you so dedicated and compassionate? I seem to recall the last time Anthony made me jump into the pool to retrieve his necklace, you just stood there on the sidelines, watching with cold indifference."

"Claire, you deserved it then. You were willing to do it. Who could save you from yourself?" Joshua's tone turned noticeably colder, but his steps didn't falter.

His words gave me pause.

It wasn't until he placed me in his car, the warm air enveloping me, that I finally came to my senses.

"Where are you taking me?"

Joshua didn't answer, starting the car in silence.

"Aren't you going in? Won't they look for you?" I rambled, the fever making my mind race, a strange excitement bubbling within me.

Joshua glanced at me as if I were an i***t. "If you hadn't pulled out your IV and run off, I wouldn't have been there tonight in the first place."

I couldn't understand what he meant. My head was pounding. The last thing I remembered was sinking into a soft, comfortable cloud.

When I woke up again, I was lying in a strange bed.

Alone. Still dressed.

On the nightstand, there was a thermos with a note tucked beneath it. I picked it up and read the bold, free-flowing handwriting:

"I have surgery today. Drink the medicine in the thermos. There's porridge in the kitchen; warm it up yourself."

I stared at the note for a while, trying to decipher Joshua's true motives.

I wouldn't believe it for a second that he liked me. Everyone in New York knew that Joshua had a long-held, unrequited love for his old love.

I had only known him for a year, and the words we'd exchanged wouldn't fill ten sentences.

But whatever his reasons, it wouldn't matter soon. In half a month, I would be leaving this place.

Yesterday was the last day of my agreement with the Reed family. I was going to be free.

*****

I blew on the steaming bowl of plain porridge I had just heated.

The rising steam blurred my vision, and my dry eyes stung slightly.

The incessant ringing of my phone shattered my brief moment of melancholy.

I picked it up and saw Anthony's name flashing on the screen. I answered out of habit, putting it on speaker.

"Claire, where the hell were you last night? Did you even hear me tell you to pack your things and get the hell out? Don't think you can just hide and make this go away. Let me tell you, either you apologize to Bella right now, or you get your ass over here and pack your crap."

His words bombarded me like artillery fire. I remained silent for a long moment. It wasn't until he finally ran out of steam that I spoke, my voice flat. "I'll be right over."

As I pushed open the door to Anthony's villa, an ashtray came flying at me. I wasn't quick enough to dodge completely, and it struck my temple.

A sharp pain shot through me, followed by the warm trickle of blood down my cheek. I raised my hand to my wound, staring at Anthony impassively.

For a moment, the overwhelming exhaustion made me think, maybe it wouldn't be so bad to let him kill me like this.

Anthony stood in the living room, dressed in gray loungewear.

When he saw that the ashtray had actually hit me, his expression tightened momentarily, and he took a step forward before stopping abruptly.

"Couldn't you f*****g have dodged?"

I couldn't tell if his words stemmed from concern for me or regret for the blood staining his ashtray.

"I'm not a special forces agent," I said, the words pulling at the gash on my forehead, sending another jolt of pain through me. My expression must have been a sight.

Behind him stood Bella, the girl from last night, looking at me with disgust. She was dressed in a lacy, revealing negligee that slipped off her shoulder, revealing her fair skin.

It wasn't hard to imagine what they had been doing.

"Where the hell were you last night? You even turned off your phone!" Anthony was agitated by my attitude, or maybe he was just used to speaking to me this way. His anger, however, misplaced, felt strangely natural, but it no longer stirred any emotion within me.

I walked over to the table, grabbed a couple of tissues, and pressed them to my wound. "My phone died."

"I'm asking you where you were last night!"

Did it even matter?

"Anthony, you were the one who told me to get out of your house yesterday. I went to pack my things. If you were so worried, you could have sent someone to watch me." I didn't want to argue anymore.

Anthony, however, reacted like a rabid lion, lunging at me and grabbing my head.

*****

With a loud bang, my bleeding head slammed against the tabletop.

Bella screamed in terror. Under the bright lights, I turned my head to look at Anthony.

His eyes were cold and menacing, his chiseled face a mask of fury. He looked down at me as if I were nothing more than a disgusting insect.

"I'll ask you one more time. Where were you last night?"

I was weak from the fever and injured. The impact had left me dazed, unable to resist his grip.

But after years of suppression, I didn't want to endure it anymore. After all, I knew exactly how to push his buttons.

"I slept with a stranger. I wanted to see for myself what it's like to be with a stallion like you. How does it feel?"

My words ignited a fire in Anthony's eyes, a fire that quickly spread. He grabbed a glass pitcher from the table, pulled out the stopper, and poured the entire contents, ice-cold water, over my wound.

Then, with a flick of his wrist, he tossed the empty pitcher aside, striking Bella in her ample chest.

Another scream pierced the air. So noisy.

I bit my lip, refusing to make a sound, tears welling up in my eyes.

"Claire, you think you're so tough now? You've been eating my food, wearing my clothes, living under my roof all these years. You're no different from a dog in the backyard, except even less loyal."

He tore at my clothes, searching for any sign, any mark.

The emotions I had bottled up for seven years finally erupted. I fought back with all my might, struggling against his grip like a mad woman, grabbing anything I could get my hands on and throwing it at him.

"Anthony, you're insane! Why aren't you the one who's dead? You're nothing compared to Addison!"

Anthony didn't even flinch, his dark eyes fixed on me. "So you finally admit it? No more pretending? All these years you've been with me, who have you been looking at through me? I loved you for so long, who am I just a substitute for? Why have you been clinging to me like a dog? Is it just because I have the same face as my brother?"