Betrayed By The Billionaire

175

The guest wing of the Martin mansion was shrouded in a heavy, oppressive silence, broken only by the hum of the central heating. Snow was deep in a restless sleep, her delicate, pale face framed by a curtain of ink-black hair. She looked fragile, almost porcelain, nestled against the pillows.

As Liam sat in his wheelchair by her bedside, his gaze drifted downward. Her silk nightgown had ridden up slightly, exposing her slender calves. In the dim moonlight, the faint, circular scars around her ankles were still visible—jagged reminders of the heavy iron shackles that had bound her for years during her captivity.

Liam stared at those marks for a long time, the weight of his guilt pressing down on his chest like a lead weight. Finally, he gathered his strength, braced his arms against the mattress, and moved his body onto the bed. He leaned over her, his shadow eclipsing the moonlight, and pressed his lips against hers.

Snow gasped, her eyes snapping open in a flash of pure terror. It took several seconds for the panic to drain from her features as she realized the man hovering over her was Liam. A shy, uncertain blush crept across her cheeks. "Liam... what are you doing here?"

"Do you not like it?" Liam asked, his voice low and devoid of its usual warmth. He stayed propped up on his elbows, staring down at her with a clinical intensity.

As he breathed in, the scent of her skin hit his nostrils, but it wasn't the scent he craved. His mind instinctively conjured the memory of Chloe—the intoxicating, natural fragrance that always seemed to pull him in, making his pulse race and his resolve melt. Looking at Snow, he felt none of that fire. There was no primal urge, no magnetic pull; there was only a hollow sense of duty.

Snow bit her lip, her voice a tiny, bashful whisper. "I... I’m just a little scared. Can I go to the restroom first?"

"Go ahead," Liam said. He rolled onto his side and pulled the heavy duvet over his lower body, hiding the stump of his missing leg. His eyes remained dark and unreadable as he watched her leave.

In that moment of solitude, Liam finally made his decision. He knew what had to be done to reclaim his life and save Chloe from the "Demon." But for his plan to work, he needed Snow’s absolute cooperation.

Nearly fifteen minutes passed before Snow emerged from the en-suite bathroom. She had showered quickly, her skin damp and smelling of floral soap. Seeing her approach with a mix of anticipation and nerves, Liam didn't wait. He reached down and swept the duvet aside, exposing his disfigurement without any warning.

The sight was brutal. Below the knee, the limb simply ended. The surgical scars where the skin had been pulled together were twisted and purplish, snaking across the stump like ugly, bloated centipedes. It was a sight of raw, physical trauma.

Snow had spent the last hour dreaming of finally becoming Liam’s woman, but she had completely pushed the reality of his amputation to the back of her mind. When the stump suddenly lunged into her field of vision, she couldn't suppress her base human instinct. She let out a sharp, audible gasp, her pupils dilating as she recoiled in visible shock.

Despite his preparations, Liam felt a cold wave of disappointment wash over him. Years ago, after the accident, Snow had been the little girl who stayed by his side through the darkest nights. But seeing her reaction now, he realized that even she was repulsed by the reality of his broken body.

He remembered then that during his recovery, he had been too consumed by shame to ever let her see the raw wound. Soon after, she had been snatched away by his uncle. In the years since, he realized with a jolt of agonizing clarity that only one person had ever seen his stump without flinching.

Chloe had not only seen it; she had held it. She had kissed the scarred, twisted skin with a tenderness that made him feel whole again. The memory hit him like a physical blow to the heart, a pain more intense than any phantom limb syndrome.

Liam’s expression flattened into a mask of terrifying calm. He shifted his weight forward, dragging himself toward the edge of the bed where Snow stood trembling. "Snow? What’s wrong?" he asked, his voice deceptively soft.

Snow instinctively took a step back, her hands shaking. Before she could retreat further, Liam’s hand shot out with predatory speed. He caught her wrist and yanked her onto the bed with a force that knocked the breath out of her. In the struggle, her weight landed directly on his stump.

"Ahhh!"

Snow let out a piercing, terrified shriek. She began to thrash in his arms, her eyes wide with a frantic, animalistic need to get away from the "ugly" thing beneath her.

The door to the bedroom burst open as Snow's sister, Ice, rushed in, alerted by the scream. She froze at the threshold, her eyes darting between the two figures on the bed.

Liam’s face had turned into a block of ice. His eyes were devoid of any emotion as he gripped Snow’s waist and firmly pushed her away, intentionally leaving his disfigured limb exposed for both sisters to see.

The Revelation of the Wound

The atmosphere in the room shattered. The "prince-like" image Liam had maintained for Snow was gone, replaced by the reality of his physical ruin.

Liam has successfully used his own trauma to test Snow, and she has failed. Now that the "debt" of his affection has been challenged by her own reaction, will Liam use this moment to finally break his engagement and pursue Chloe? Or will Ice intervene to protect her sister's position in the Martin family, regardless of the emotional cost?

How do you think Ice will react to seeing Liam's injury and her sister's terrified reaction?