?Chapter 757:


    Without waiting for an answer, he mmed his fist into Marc’s stomach and face — then again, and again.


    The sound of pounding blows and cracking bones thundered through the room.


    Marc’s screams tore through the air—shrill.


    Blood poured from his nose and mouth, speckled with broken teeth. “M-Mr. Briggs… spare me… please…” Marc begged, his voice quivering with pure terror.


    William only released him when Marc’s breath hitched and nearly stopped altogether.


    Marc crumpled to the floor like a corpse, blood spreading beneath him in a ghastly pool. If not for the faint twitch of his limbs, one might have thought he was already dead.


    William’s eyes were still burning with rage as he strode back to the bed, scooping Ste’s limp body into his arms. She instinctively curled toward his chest, seekingfort like a wounded animal recognizing its protector.


    Without looking back at Marc, William spat out a chilling warning. “This isn’t over. Just wait.”


    Then, with Ste clinging weakly to him, he turned and left the foul room without hesitation.


    Ste felt like she was trapped between a furnace and a block of ice — burning one second, shivering the next. She kept drifting in and out of consciousness. But through the haze, she registered a steady heartbeat beneath her ear and a familiar sandalwood scent surrounding her.


    Warm liquid touched her lips. Bitter medicine flowed down her throat.


    A soft bed cradled her. A cool, gentle hand wiped her forehead over and over with a damp cloth — each movement careful, cherishing… as though she were the most precious thing in the world.


    Gradually, the raging fever subsided. Comfort wrapped around her like a nket. Exhaustion dragged her down, and she finally sank into dreamless sleep.


    She had no idea how much time had passed before harsh sunlight pried her eyes open.


    Blinking, Ste stared up at a glittering crystal chandelier and an ivory-painted ceiling. Soft bedding cocooned her body. This wasn’t her home… or a hospital. She sat up abruptly — only for a stabbing headache to make her gasp and clutch her temples.


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    Looking around again, bewilderment creased her brow.


    She had been to William’s ce before — but never stepped foot in this room. She’d always stayed in the living room. Even if she needed the bathroom, she would only use the guest one outside. Never his private quarters.


    Ste lowered her gaze and froze. The clothes on her body weren’t hers.


    She was dressed in an oversized men’s silk pajama top, deep gray in color, the cor loose and slipping off one shoulder to reveal her delicate corbone.


    Her own clothes were nowhere in sight.


    Panic mmed through her chest. She frantically searched her muddled memories, but everything after dinnerst night was a blur — as though someone had cleanly sliced a piece out of her mind.


    She vaguely remembered eating with Marc… the waiter spilling wine on her… heading to the restroom… dizziness striking out of nowhere…


    Was it Marc?


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