The Hidden Wife Of Mr Lu

Qin Ruoxi hated how quiet luxury hotels were. The silence was never peaceful. It was heavy. Pressing. As if even the air inside the building knew it was expensive and behaved accordingly. She stepped out of the elevator onto the twenty-eighth floor and paused for a second, clutching her handbag tighter against her side. The carpet beneath her heels was so soft it swallowed the sound of her footsteps. The lights along the hallway walls glowed warmly, too warm, making the corridor feel long and endless. Her phone was pressed to her ear. “Room 280, right?” she asked again. On the other end, her assistant sighed. “Yes, Ruoxi. 280. I already told you. The audition has started. Where are you?” “I’m here… I just got to the floor.” “Then hurry! The director hates latecomers.” The call ended. Ruoxi lowered the phone slowly and inhaled. This was it. This audition was the chance she had been praying for. The hospital bill for her grandmother’s surgery felt like a weight sitting on her chest. Every second she wasted felt like money slipping through her fingers. She began to walk. Her eyes moved from one door plate to the next as she counted under her breath. 270… 272… 276… Her mind wasn’t calm. It was loud. Lines from the audition script replayed in her head. The doctor’s serious face. The image of her grandmother lying unconscious in the hospital bed. She blinked and stopped in front of a door. Her eyes saw it. But her mind didn’t register it. In her nervousness, in her hurry, the numbers twisted inside her head. Two. Eight. Zero. She didn’t notice. She reached for the handle and pushed the door open. The room was dark. Not dim. Dark. She stepped one foot inside and frowned. “Hello?” No response. Her fingers tightened around her bag strap. Something felt off. Why was the audition room dark? She took a small step backward. “I think I’m in the wrong—” The door slammed shut behind her. Before she could even turn, an arm wrapped around her waist from the darkness and yanked her backward into a hard chest. A gasp tore from her throat. Her back collided with a solid body. A hand clamped around her wrist. Strong. Veiny. Unyielding. “Please!” she said immediately, panic rising in her voice. “I’m sorry! I think I entered the wrong room!” The man didn’t answer. His breathing was loud. Uneven. Almost painful. She could feel the heat of his body through her clothes. He felt like he was burning. “I came for an audition,” she rushed out. “I don’t know how I got here, I need to leave—” His grip tightened. It was as if her words dissolved before reaching him. She tried to twist away, but his other hand came to her waist, holding her firmly in place. “Please listen to me!” Her voice trembled now. He turned her around abruptly. Her vision struggled in the darkness. She could only make out the outline of a tall figure, broad shoulders, and eyes that didn’t look focused. They looked… clouded. Unsteady. Like a man not fully aware of what he was doing. Before she could process anything, he pushed her backward. Her knees hit the edge of the bed and she fell onto it. Her heart pounded violently. “I need to go! Please—!” He leaned over her. His hands were trembling as they touched her. Not gentle. Not patient. There was a frantic urgency in his movements, like he was trying to escape something tormenting him from the inside. She tried to sit up, but he pressed her back down. “I’m not who you think I am!” she cried. He didn’t speak. Not a single word. Only his harsh breathing filled the room. She pushed at his chest, but it was like pushing against a wall. His strength overwhelmed her easily. Her protests turned into uneven breaths as he held her tighter. Her mind spun. Why wasn’t he listening? What was wrong with him? In the struggle, she heard the sharp sound of fabric tearing. Buttons scattered onto the floor. Her bag slipped from her hand unnoticed. Tears blurred her vision. She had never imagined something like this could happen. Never. She had walked into the wrong room. And now she was trapped inside a nightmare she didn’t understand. His hands moved with urgency, no tenderness. There was no softness in the way he touched her. Only a desperate need to rid himself of something burning through his veins. She could feel how tense his body was. How overheated his skin felt. How his breaths came out shaky, almost strained. That was when she realized. This man was not in his right senses. Something was terribly wrong. But that realization did nothing to change her situation. She tried again to speak, but her voice came out weak. Her throat felt tight. Her thoughts were a mess of fear, confusion, and disbelief. He didn’t hear her. He didn’t see her. To him, she was simply someone who had appeared when he needed relief from whatever storm raged inside him. The room felt suffocating. The air felt thick. Time lost its meaning. The faint city lights outside the window shifted slowly behind the curtains, marking the passing hours, but inside the room, everything felt suspended in one endless moment. Her resistance gradually weakened, not because she stopped wanting to fight, but because she realized he wasn’t aware enough to understand her. Her hands slowly fell to the sheets. Her voice faded into silence. Her mind drifted away from her body as she endured what she couldn’t stop. Shock numbed her. Fear exhausted her. Confusion swallowed her. The night stretched on without mercy. And it continued throughout the night.