Chapter 203

Staring into his stormy eyes, Latisha's lips twisted into a faint, tired smile. An overwhelming wave of exhaustion washed over her. She let her hands fall to her sides and closed her eyes, completely resigned to her fate.

Her surrender both infuriated and disarmed him. For a fleeting moment, he genuinely wanted to choke the life out of her. When a once-tame pet suddenly learns to fight back, even its master can be thrown into a panic.

The veins on the back of his hand bulged, his knuckles white as the hand around her neck trembled. But in the end, he slowly, painstakingly, released his grip.

Air flooded her lungs. Latisha's eyes flew open, and she collapsed onto the floor, coughing violently.

Clifford knelt in front of her, his hands gripping her shoulders. "Latisha," he said, his voice low and intense. "I told you before, if you just behave, we can go back to how things were. Why can't you just be good?"

Once her coughing subsided, she turned to him, her eyes red-rimmed, and suddenly broke into a laugh—a laugh that was uglier than her tears.

How was she supposed to be good?

She didn't know what he meant by that anymore. Did it mean cutting herself off from the world, dedicating her entire existence to him? She remembered a time when her world had revolved around him, but his had never once included her. He had ignored her, kept her at arm's length, and cast her aside like a worn-out shoe.

It was laughable that he still expected her to behave.

Latisha had to admit it. After twenty years, she had never truly known him at all.

Clifford looked away, unable to meet her gaze. He simply pulled her into a crushing embrace, holding her so tightly it felt as though he wanted to merge her into his very bones. Latisha could barely breathe, her body limp in his arms like a rag doll.

At the doorway, the doctor hesitated, unsure whether to enter. Latisha saw him and gave a slight shake of her head. She knew what he wanted to say, but she didn't want to hear it. Over the years, she had endured countless stares-looks of scorn, of pity of every shade in between. She couldn't bear it if the love she desperately craved was nothing more than a product of his sympathy. If that was the case, she would rather have nothing at all. Pity was the cheapest of all emotions.

The doctor seemed to understand her silent plea. With a soft sigh, he retreated down the hall.

Clifford held her for a long time before finally letting go. He leaned in and gently kissed the tears from the corner of her eye, his gaze fixed on hers. "I'll take you to the hospital," he said.

Latisha froze, her head snapping up

to look at him. A flicker of life returned to her ashen face. She dug. her nails into her palms, the sharp sting grounding her. He always knew how to find her breaking point, how to pull her back from the edge of the abyss just when she was about to fall, offering a sliver of light.

Clifford's eyes burned into hers as he repeated, “Okay?”

Her own gaze flickered, unable to form a response. The only answer she could give was the fresh stream of tears that ran down her cheeks. Clifford wiped them away, his touch impossibly gentle.

Suddenly, Latisha let out a small hiccup, the sound shattering the tense atmosphere. To her surprise, Clifford chuckled. He leaned in again, kissing her lips softly as he murmured, "Don't cry, hmm?"

She tried to turn her head away, but he cupped her face, turning it back to his. His kisses grew more intense, and the air thickened with a familiar, charged energy. She could hear the quickening of his breath. She raised her hands to push him away, but he caught her wrists.

With her eyelashes heavy with tears, her eyes red, and her hair in disarray, her weak resistance looked to him like a coy invitation. It was a sight that could drive a man to madness. And so, the man who had only meant to comfort her ended up pushing her down onto the hard floor. Latisha had no strength left to

fight. She closed her eyes and let him do as he pleased.