As John's hands moved to push the hem of Lily's dress up, a wave of panic surged through her, every nerve in her body screaming in alarm. Two years ago, when John couldn't walk, she had stood by him. He was crippled and mocked, but she'd defended him… only to be dragged away by a group of disgusting men who nearly violated her. The police had shown up just in time to stop them, but the trauma lingered. The memory of those men—how deranged they were—had left a deep, jagged scar on her soul. After that night, Lily couldn't even stand to be near men. A simple touch, even the faintest approach, would set her nerves on fire and make her tremble uncontrollably. John had always known her pain. Even after he regained the ability to walk, after their relationship turned physical and desire flared between them, he respected her boundaries. They had lived in separate rooms, always. He'd told her, promised her, that they would wait until they were married to take that final step. He'd promised he'd cherish her properly. Back then, she'd loved him fiercely, deeply. But now… John belonged to Elsa. How could she ever willingly give herself to him again?"John, I don't love you anymore. If you want to lose your mind, go to Elsa. You have no right to do this to me! Let go! Don't touch me!" Her voice was hoarse, raw with emotion. "I don't love you anymore… You can't do this!" She doesn't love me anymore… The words hit John like a slap. That final sentence—the one he'd feared—broke whatever fragile thread of control he had left. His kisses, already rough, turned savage. His desperation, his possessiveness, overwhelmed her. She tried to reason with him, but his mouth smothered hers, silencing her, drowning out her voice. She fought to pull away, to break free, but he was too strong. Her wrists were pinned effortlessly beneath his grip, her body helpless against his. In blind panic, she bit him. Blood filled their mouths, but he didn't stop. His obsession with her had consumed him. Suddenly, he flipped her over, forcing her to face away from him. His hands grew more invasive, intent clear—he wanted to take her completely, cross that final boundary and claim her as his. The thought of that made her go cold.Ice-cold. Especially when the memory of Elsa's moaning voice echoed in her mind, the sound from the phone call earlier that night. She felt as though her body was trapped in a snowstorm. Every part of her, every inch of her soul, froze over. The cold slashed at her skin like a thousand sharp knives. Her entire being was encased in ice, and she trembled harder than ever before, shaking uncontrollably. "Don't touch me!" she pleaded, her voice a broken whisper. But she was pinned beneath him, unable to move. Then she heard it—the sound of a belt unbuckling. Click. The sharp sound of it made her blood run cold. Her voice was a rasp, a grating sound that barely escaped her throat. Lily had never been one to cry. She'd learned that tears were useless. From the moment the Ginger family tormented her with others, she'd realized crying wouldn't save her—it never had. It never pulled her out of despair. All it did was feed the cruelty of those who sought to hurt her. But right now, a flood of hatred, humiliation, and helplessness overcame her, and despite everything, her tears began to spill. John loosened his grip on her wrists. His fingers brushed against her cheek, feeling the unmistakable wetness of her tears. His entire body froze. Had she really wanted him to stop this much? Did she truly not want him? The realization hit him with a violent force—fury, disbelief, and shame swelled up inside him, threatening to drown him. He grabbed her chin, turning her face toward him, desperate to kiss away her tears, but before he could, her broken, raw voice shattered the silence. "John, if you force yourself on me against my will… how are you any different from those men who hurt me before? You have no right." "Lily!" He hadn't expected her to say that. To compare him to those revolting men. Even with the fire still raging inside him, he froze, stunned. For a moment, all he could do was stare at her—shocked, confused, lost. She scrambled to fix her sleepdress, curling herself into the corner of the bed, her body defensive, her eyes wary and distant. She looked like a frightened animal, clearly at her breaking point. The image of her from years ago—terrified, trembling, after those men tried to hurt her—flashed before his eyes. The police had found her disoriented, just like this. Tonight, she'd nearly fallen into another nightmare. She had jumped from a second-story window to escape a fate worse than death. She was broken. She was terrified. And he had nearly been the one to break her again, driven by jealousy, almost forcing himself on her. "Lily, I shouldn't have done that to you." His voice was raw, the guilt overwhelming him. He stepped closer, trying to pull her into his arms, but she flinched violently, instinctively scooting further away.Even with her back pressed against the wall, she fought to retreat from him. Her beautiful eyes, usually so soft and full of light, now burned with hatred—pure, unbridled hatred. The sight of it scorched him, burned right through him, leaving him breathless. For a moment, he just stood there, frozen. But then, slowly, as though a part of him had broken away, he stepped forward and gently gathered her trembling body into his arms.