As Aria raised her hand to slap him, Charles didn't even flinch. He just stared straight at her.
His dark pupils were like a bottomless abyss, capable of pulling a person in with just a single glance.
But Aria's hand stopped in mid-air. From her angle, she could faintly see Charles's right hand trembling slightly—a lasting injury from when he had saved her.
His hand had been injured protecting her. When he was rushed into surgery, the doctors said it was bad. The worst-case scenario was amputation…
A surgeon losing the hand he was most proud of was something Charles couldn't accept, and neither could Aria.
She would always be indebted to him.
Aria lowered her hand and turned her head away, tossing out a single, cold sentence. “My business is none of your concern.”
She turned and walked away, ready to get in her car.
The weather had turned cool, and since she had come to the hospital in a hurry, Aria was only wearing a thin shirt, her long, pale neck shivering in the thin air.
Charles's gaze fell on a red patch of skin on Aria's neck.
They were both adults. Charles could see it was clearly a hickey, and a fresh one at that.
“Of course I don't need to worry about your affairs.”
Aria looked back, not understanding what he meant.
Charles raised an eyebrow, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “It’s because you were already planning to have a child with Gideon and couldn't wait for an opportunity like this.”
“Now that you've latched onto a big shot like Gideon, of course you'd look down on the little money I can offer.”
Following Charles's gaze, Aria saw the embarrassing mark on her skin and recalled the violent, forced encounter that night.

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