Part 2: The Bruises No One Was Meant to See
Ryan stood up so suddenly that the chair scraped across the floor.
“For three hours?” he repeated.
Emily swallowed.
“The manager asked me to stay late. A tenant spilled wine in one of the penthouses.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
She nodded carefully.
Ryan took two slow steps toward her.
“You think I'm stupid?”
“No.”
His hand slammed against the refrigerator beside her head.
The loud bang made her flinch.
“Look at me.”
She forced herself to lift her eyes.
He stared at her for a long moment before grabbing her wrist.
“You're shaking.”
“I'm cold.”
“No. You're lying.”
Emily didn't answer.
She knew silence was sometimes safer.
Ryan's grip tightened.
“You think you can ignore me?”
Before she could speak, he shoved her backward.
She hit the counter and gasped.
“Please…” she whispered.
The word barely escaped her lips.
“Please don't hit me again.”
For one second, Ryan hesitated.
Then he snatched his jacket.
“You're pathetic.”
The apartment door slammed behind him.
Emily slid to the kitchen floor.
Only when she heard his truck disappear into the rain did she allow herself to cry.
The next morning she covered the purple marks on her arms with makeup and wore a long-sleeved sweater despite the summer heat.
No one asked questions.
People rarely did.
Until she arrived at the Ashford Tower.
The head supervisor rushed toward her.
“Emily, the regular cleaner called in sick. We need someone to handle the penthouse.”
She froze.
“Mr. Blackwood's?”
“Yes. He's coming back from New York tonight. Just finish before six.”
Emily nodded.
Adrian Blackwood entered his penthouse exactly at six fifteen.
The security team stepped aside as he walked in, removing his gloves.
Everything looked perfect.
Until he noticed a woman kneeling beside a bookshelf.
She quickly stood.
“I'm sorry, sir. I was just finishing.”
For the first time, Adrian looked directly at her.
She couldn't have weighed more than a hundred pounds.
Her sleeves were pulled all the way to her wrists.
She kept her eyes on the floor.
He would have walked away.
Except a bottle of furniture polish slipped from her hand.
She instinctively reached to catch it.
Her sleeve slid back.
Dark purple bruises circled her wrist.
Not one bruise.
Many.
Old ones.
Fresh ones.
Finger-shaped.
Adrian stopped walking.
His bodyguards exchanged nervous glances.
The most feared man in Chicago had gone completely silent.
Emily noticed his gaze and hurriedly pulled her sleeve down.
“I'm sorry.”
She bent to pick up the bottle.
As she did, the collar of her sweater shifted.
Another bruise.
Then another.
A fading cut near her shoulder.
Adrian's expression changed.
Not anger.
Something colder.
Something older.
For a brief second, he remembered another woman.
Dark hair.
Sad eyes.
His mother.
The woman in the photograph on his desk.
The woman who had spent years hiding bruises beneath scarves until she didn't survive long enough to hide them anymore.
He looked at Emily.
“How long?”
She blinked.
“Sir?”
“How long has he been hurting you?”
Her face went completely white.
“No one…”
“No one falls into the same fist twenty times.”
Tears filled her eyes.
“I have to go.”
She rushed toward the elevator.
Adrian watched the doors close.
Then he spoke only four words.
“Find out everything. Tonight.”
Within two hours, his security chief returned.
“Ryan Maddox. Construction worker. Arrest record for assault. No convictions. Neighbors report arguments. No family nearby.”
Adrian stared out at the Chicago skyline.
“And her?”
“She never called the police.”
He nodded once.
“She won't have to.”
That same night Emily returned home.
Ryan was waiting.
His face was red with anger.
“Where were you?”
“At work.”
“You're lying.”
He stepped closer.
Emily backed away until she reached the wall.
He raised his hand.
A deep voice echoed from the doorway.
“If you touch her…”
Ryan turned.
Three men in black suits stood there.
Behind them was Adrian Blackwood.
His blue eyes were colder than the rain outside.
“…you'll spend the rest of your life wishing you hadn't.”
Ryan laughed nervously.
“Who the hell are you?”
Adrian didn't answer.
Instead, he looked at Emily.
“You asked someone not to hit you again.”
May you like
She stared at him in disbelief.
“So I'm making sure he never will.”
