The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of a bedside lamp.
The curtains were drawn.
The bed was large, covered in dark silk sheets that seemed to swallow the light.
Alexander crossed the room and gently—so gently—lowered Kelly onto the mattress.
She sank into the bedding like a stone into water, her body curling instinctively, a soft whimper escaping her lips as she shifted.
Alexander stood over her for a moment, his chest heaving, his hands still trembling.
He watched her sleep, watched the subtle grimace of pain that flickered across her face even in unconsciousness.
‘Someone hurt her.’ The thought made his blood boil.
He turned and walked into the adjoining bathroom, his footsteps echoing against the marble floors.
He pulled open the medicine cabinet and grabbed the first aid kit—a white box with a red cross on it, stocked with everything needed to treat minor injuries.
He set it on the counter, opened it, and surveyed the contents: antiseptic wipes, gauze, bandages, antibiotic cream, pain relievers.
It would have to do for now.
If her injuries were more serious than they appeared, he would call the family doctor.
But first, he needed to see the full extent of the damage.
He returned to the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed beside her.
The mattress dipped under his weight, causing her to stir slightly, a low moan escaping her throat.
“It’s okay,” he murmured, though he wasn’t sure if he was saying it for her or for himself.
“I’m just going to clean you up.
Stay still.” He wet a cloth with warm water and began gently dabbing at her face, cleaning away the smeared makeup and dried blood.
The swelling around her eye was worse than he had initially thought—the discoloration stretched from her brow bone down to her cheek, a sickening palette of purple, black, and blue.
Her split lip had stopped bleeding, but the cut was deep, still raw and angry.
Alexander worked in silence, his touch surprisingly gentle for a man known for his cold efficiency.
He cleaned every wound with meticulous care, applying antibiotic cream where needed, covering the deeper cuts with small bandages.
When he was done with her face, he sat back and examined his work.
She looked better—less like a victim and more like someone who had been cared for.
But he knew he was only seeing half the picture.
His eyes drifted down to her dress.
‘How badly is she hurt underneath?’ He reached for the zipper at the back of her dress, his fingers brushing against the metal tab.
His heart pounded in his chest, a strange tightness gripping his throat.
This felt wrong.
She was unconscious.
Vulnerable.
She couldn’t consent to this.
He pulled his hand back.
‘No.
I can’t.’ He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a frustrated breath.
He needed to see her injuries.
He needed to know how badly she was hurt.
But undressing her while she was passed out felt like a violation, even if his intentions were pure.
He stood up and pulled out his phone, scrolling through his contacts until he found the name he was looking for: ‘Mrs.
Ahn.’ The call connected after two rings.
“Mr.
Morrowgate?” The housekeeper’s voice was clear and professional, accustomed to receiving unusual requests at odd hours.
“Mrs.
Ahn, I need you to come to my room immediately.” “Is something wrong, sir?” “Just come.
Please.” He ended the call and slipped the phone back into his pocket.
A few minutes later, a soft knock came at the door.
“Come in.” The door opened, and Mrs.
Ahn stepped inside.
She was a woman in her late fifties, with silver-streaked hair pulled back into a tight bun and kind eyes that had seen decades of Morrowgate drama.
She wore a simple black dress with a white apron, her posture straight and proper.
Her eyes landed on Kelly, and a flicker of concern crossed her face.
“Oh, dear.
Is she alright?” “She’s been hurt,” Alexander said, his voice tight.
“I’ve cleaned the wounds on her face, but I need you to check the rest of her body.
I need to know the extent of her injuries.” Mrs.
Ahn nodded without hesitation.
“Of course, sir.
I’ll take care of her.” “Thank you.” Alexander paused, his gaze lingering on Kelly’s sleeping form.
“When you’re done, come find me in my study.
I need to know what happened to her.” He turned and walked out of the room, leaving Kelly in Mrs.
Ahn’s capable hands.
To be continued…