His Wicked Obsession (Archer and Virginia) novel Chapter 497

A sharp, agonizing pain spiked through her temples. "Gemma" gasped, squeezing her eyes shut and pressing her palms hard against the sides of her head.

Just then, the bedroom door opened.

Dominic walked in wearing a navy-blue silk pajama set. He had taken off his gold-rimmed glasses, making his deep, sharp features look somewhat shadowed and unreadable under the room's lighting.

"Gemma" scrambled to lock the phone and flipped it face down on the table.

Dominic paused, his eyes falling on her panicked expression. "What's wrong?"

He walked over, his tone mild, but his gaze was filled with deep scrutiny.

"No, nothing," "Gemma" stammered, fighting to calm her racing heart as she threw together a random excuse. "I bought a new phone while shopping today. I was just messing around with it."

Dominic didn't press the issue, lacking even the slightest interest in looking at the device.

In his eyes, she was nothing more than a perfect replica, an empty shell wearing Gemma's face.

It didn't matter if the substitute had her own little secrets. As long as she stayed by his side in that skin and played the role of Gemma perfectly, that was all that mattered.

"Get some sleep early." He raised a hand, instinctively reaching out to stroke her long hair.

But instead of softly accepting his touch like she always did, "Gemma" subconsciously turned her head, dodging his hand.

Dominic's hand froze in midair. His eyes darkened instantly, and a suffocating, authoritative pressure radiated from him.

"...Sorry, I just have a bit of a headache," "Gemma" quickly covered, sensing his displeasure as she rubbed her temples.

Dominic gave her a long, hard look, pulled his hand back, and turned toward the bathroom without another word.

As the sound of running water started, "Gemma" let out a long breath.

Archer's words and the photo of that little girl were like a thorn wedged deep in her brain.

Who was she really?

"Gemma" threw off the covers. Ignoring her slippers, she walked barefoot across the thick Persian rug, silently creeping to the door and carefully twisting the knob.

The hallway was empty.

She crept down the spiral staircase, stopping in the shadows of the second-floor landing as hushed voices drifted up from the living room.

She slowed her breathing and hid in the darkness.

The main lights were off in the living room, leaving only a few wall sconces casting a dim, yellow glow.

Dominic stood by the floor-to-ceiling window. Tall and imposing, he exuded an aura of cold detachment.

A few feet away from him stood a woman.

She wore a pure white cashmere coat, her long hair falling over her shoulders. Her makeup was soft and elegant, making her look entirely delicate and harmless.