You Humiliated Me, I Left No Trace

Chapter 4

Lila's steps faltered. The warmth drained from her eyes, replaced by a wave of icy fury.

Adrian froze. Before he could speak, her voice whipped across the silence, merciless and sharp. "Don't you dare play the martyr in front of me."

His heart felt as if it were being squeezed in an iron fist, poison seeping through his veins.

A long moment passed before he managed to blink, his eyelids leaden. "You're right," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "It's always my fault."

Lila swept past him without another glance. As she reached the archway, she tossed back a cold directive. "Clean this mess up before Dorian returns. I don't want him looking at it."

Adrian pushed himself up on unsteady legs and dragged his body to the courtyard sink.

The freezing tap water bit into the raw, open wounds on his hands. A agonizing sting shot up his arms, making him tremble uncontrollably.

He soaked a rag, wrung it out with blood-stained fingers, and crouched down. Methodically, he wiped away every smear of crimson from the marble floor until not a single stain remained.

As he straightened his aching back, a pair of pristine leather shoes stepped into his field of vision.

Adrian froze. He lifted his head to find Dorian watching him with a mild, appraising smile.

"Good work, Mr. Sheldon," Dorian said softly, his tone effortlessly gentle. "Very thorough. Now get up and brew me a cup of coffee."

Adrian's face remained a lifeless mask. Silently, he rose, brewed a fresh cup, and handed it over. "Your coffee, Mr. Lennox."

Dorian's eyes caught a faint, almost imperceptible trace of red near the rim of the porcelain cup. Without a word, he pulled out a crisp silk handkerchief, wrapped it delicately around the handle, and took a slow sip. He looked utterly relaxed.

Adrian stared at him, the question that had tormented him for four years finally breaking through his lips. "Back then... you vanished on your own. Why did you leave?"

Dorian paused mid-sip. A subtle, calculating smile curved his lips. "Of course I had to leave," he purred, his voice laced with quiet malice. "If I hadn't disappeared, how would Lila ever remember you as the monster who drove me away?"

Adrian's pupils dilated. The man standing before him looked fragile and gentle, but behind those soft eyes lay something insidious. A profound chill swept through Adrian from head to toe.

Dorian stepped closer, his smile twisting into something ugly, burning with quiet jealousy. "Aside from your noble pedigree, Adrian... in what way are you better than me?"

He leaned in, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "Everyone calls you the Sterling family's son-in-law out of courtesy to Lila. But who actually respects you? What are you in the high-society inner circle? Just a kept dog."

Dorian's eyes flashed. "The man standing at Lila's side was supposed to be me. You stole my life."

Adrian trembled violently, his throat closing up. The pain in his chest expanded until it stole his breath, leaving him entirely defenseless.

Late that night, Adrian finally dragged himself back to his secluded guest room.

Robin, his assistant, took one look at the raw, bloody mangled skin covering his hands, and his eyes instantly welled with tears. "Mr. Sheldon... I'm calling Dr. Granville right now!"

Adrian offered a weary wave of his hand, sitting down heavily at his desk. His gaze fell upon a half-carved mahogany walking stick resting on the wood grain.

He stared at his useless, trembling hands, a bitter smile touching his lips.

His grandfather's milestone seventieth birthday was only a few days away. He had spent months hand-carving this walking stick as a gift. But with his hands destroyed like this, he would never finish it.

A moment later, the door opened. Robin returned with Dr. Grace Granville.

The moment she stepped across the threshold, Grace froze.

Adrian sat hunched and gaunt, his face as pale as linen. His hands were a horrific sight—raw, bruised, and caked in dried blood.

Grace felt a tight knot strangle her chest, a sudden pang of regret washing over her.

The Adrian Sheldon she remembered was the brilliant second son of the Sheldon empire—refined, dazzling, standing at the pinnacle of society. Not this broken shadow trapped in the Sterling villa, slowly withering away day by day.

She stepped forward, pressing two fingers against his wrist. As she felt the thready, erratic flutter beneath his clammy skin, her brows furrowed in sharp disapproval. "Have you been skipping your medication again? Neglecting your rest?"

Adrian's expression remained flat. "I was busy yesterday. I forgot."

"What could possibly be more important than your life?" Grace snapped, a mix of anger and pity bleeding into her voice. "Living like this—destroying yourself in public—only drags the Sheldon name deeper into the mud!"

She leaned down, her eyes fierce. "If it's this unbearable, if you're just going to let Dorian grind you into dust, why don't you just sign the divorce papers and walk away for good?"

Adrian stiffened, a surge of bitterness catching in his throat.

The fact that Grace knew enough to say this meant the humiliating rumors had already spread through the entire city.

The emotional walls he had maintained for four years finally cracked. "You're well-informed, Dr. Granville," he rasped, his voice breaking. "But don't forget—I'm nothing more than a dependent living off the Sterlings now. I have no say in my own destiny."

Tears rimmed his red-tinged eyes as he looked up. "If I had a choice, do you really think I wouldn't want my freedom? Do you think I enjoy this humiliation? But my family is ruined. The only reason I'm clinging to this pathetic marriage is to shield what little my grandfather has left. So tell me... what did I do wrong?"

Every syllable was soaked in bone-deep despair.

If Lila hadn't publicly shattered their engagement four years ago, humiliating his family and driving them to the brink of collapse, his proud, aging grandfather would never have swallowed his pride to beg the Sterlings to reinstate the marriage.

The overwhelming anguish triggered a violent coughing fit. Adrian doubled over, pressing a handkerchief to his lips. When he pulled it away, the white linen was soaked in a vivid, damning scarlet.

He lifted his gaze. His face was ghostly pale, his lips smeared with blood, yet his eyes held an unshakeable, tragic resolve. "If my suffering can buy peace for my family... then I accept it willingly. Without regret."

Grace stood paralyzed, completely stripped of words.

"You should go," Adrian whispered, gesturing faintly toward the door, his eyes dull with exhaustion.

BOOM.

A thunderous crash echoed through the room as the heavy oak door was kicked violently open.

Adrian turned out of instinct, his breath catching in his throat.

Lila stood in the doorway. Her face was dark as a thundercloud, her eyes blazing with absolute fury.

Before anyone could react, she crossed the room in three swift strides, her hand swinging forward with a sickening, violent c***k across his face.