Vivian stirred slowly, consciousness returning in disjointed fragments. She blinked her eyes open, the room gradually resolving into muted shapes and colors. Her head throbbed painfully, a dull ache pulsing in rhythm with her heartbeat. A wave of panic swept through her as memories crashed back—the karaoke suite, Sammy's heavy grip, the taste of drugged wine thick on her tongue.

  She jolted upright, breath hitching sharply as dizziness nearly sent her collapsing back into the pillows. A quiet movement at the edge of the bed drew her wary gaze, and she froze.

  Noah sat silently in a chair a careful distance away, watching her with an unreadable expression. His posture was deliberately casual, yet tension radiated subtly through his rigid shoulders and clenched jaw.

  "Easy," he said quietly, voice gentle yet strained. "You shouldn't move too quickly."

  Vivian stared at him, suspicion flickering openly in her eyes before she masked it, forcing composed neutrality back onto her features. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, determined to regain control of her own body. But her limbs betrayed her, trembling violently beneath her weight, knees buckling.

  Noah was on his feet instantly, catching her carefully by the elbow, his grip firm yet oddly gentle. The sudden contact startled Vivian, her breath catching, heart stuttering uncertainly in her chest.

  "I've got you," he murmured, voice low, devoid of his usual mocking edge. Vivian hesitated, torn between resentment and grudging acceptance of the support she clearly needed. She allowed him to guide her gently back to the bed, her muscles stiffening even as something warmer flickered briefly beneath her skin.

  "You're safe here," Noah continued quietly, releasing her once she was steady. He stepped back immediately, allowing her space, though his dark eyes never left her face. "You need to rest."

  Vivian watched him warily, an uneasy silence settling thickly between them. She hated how vulnerable she felt, hated even more the strange comfort she found in his careful movements, the uncharacteristic sincerity in his voice. Her gaze dropped, confusion furrowing her brow.

  "I'm fine," she said stubbornly, though her voice wavered slightly. "I just need a minute."

  Noah didn't argue, instead moving quietly toward the small kitchenette. She watched him from beneath lowered lashes, suspicious yet intrigued by his unfamiliar softness. When he returned moments later, he handed her a mug filled with something warm.

  "It’s tea," he said, tone quietly insistent. "It'll help clear your head."

  Vivian hesitated briefly but took the mug, warmth seeping into her fingers, comforting and grounding. She took a tentative sip, the subtle flavors spreading slowly through her, soothing the harsh edges of anxiety.

  The silence between them felt different now, softer somehow. Vivian glanced cautiously at Noah, noting the way he deliberately avoided meeting her gaze, seemingly absorbed in the careful rearrangement of the items on his desk. The quiet stretched gently, broken finally by her hesitant voice.

  “How did we get back?” she asked, voice raspy, avoiding his gaze.

  “I carried you out,” Noah answered quietly, his tone softer than usual, almost hesitant.

  She swallowed, nodding faintly, then hesitated before asking, “Did you get anything from Sammy?”

  “A little,” Noah said carefully, his expression tightening. “He said he was blackmailed. Something about five years ago.” He paused, watching her reaction closely. “He also mentioned a name—Mike Liu.”

  Vivian stilled, eyes narrowing as she processed the information. “And Serena?”

  Noah hesitated, reluctant to answer. “He said he didn’t know. Claimed whoever blackmailed him probably handled it himself.”

  Vivian’s eyes flickered, hope painfully clear beneath her carefully guarded expression. “That means she could still be alive.”

  Noah hesitated, hating the fragile hope in her voice. “Yes.”

  Vivian exhaled softly, her eyes dropping to the unfamiliar robe covering her body. The reality of her vulnerability sank in, her expression tightening as she fought the humiliation rising in her chest.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  “I need to shower,” she said quietly, unable to fully meet his eyes.

  Noah nodded slowly, retreating to give her space, returning moments later with clothing folded neatly in his hands. “Here. I don’t have much else.” His voice softened, revealing a rare note of helplessness, a quiet apology threaded through his words. “I’m sorry.”

  She accepted the clothes silently, stepping past him into the small bathroom, closing the door behind her with quiet finality.

  The bathroom was small and starkly impersonal, clean tiles and minimalist fixtures bathed in cool, muted lighting. Vivian turned on the shower, waiting for the water to heat, her reflection stark and hollow in the mirror. Her fingers trembled as she shrugged off the robe, stepping beneath the hot spray.

  Water scalded her skin, her fingers desperately scrubbing as if she could erase the memory, the lingering traces of Sammy’s touch. Her breath shuddered sharply, then broke into soft, uncontrollable sobs. Alone, beneath the cover of rushing water, she let herself fall apart, tears mixing with the stream that washed away nothing.

  On the other side of the door, Noah stood silently, leaning against the wall, his eyes closed tightly against the sound of Vivian’s muffled cries. Each quiet sob twisted like a blade in his chest, a painful reminder of every way he’d failed her.

  A while later, Vivian emerged slowly from the bathroom, enveloped in Noah’s oversized t-shirt and loose-fitting drawstring slacks. Damp strands of hair clung softly to her face, her skin flushed pink from the too-hot shower, and the borrowed clothing hung loosely around her small frame, emphasizing her vulnerability.

  She moved forward cautiously, legs still shaky. The bathroom door opened with a faint creak, drawing Noah’s attention instantly. He stood from his place on the couch, gaze locking onto her with an intensity that made Vivian’s breath catch in her throat.

  She managed only a few uncertain steps before her knees betrayed her again, legs buckling weakly beneath her. In a swift, silent movement, Noah was there, catching her carefully before she could fall, his arms steady and sure around her.

  Vivian froze, pulse quickening as she met Noah’s gaze. There was something deeply unsettled in his eyes—concern blending quietly with guilt and a subtle, possessive edge that caught her off guard. Her heartbeat fluttered unevenly, an unspoken tension passing briefly between them.

  For a moment, Vivian expected Noah to lean closer, pressing his advantage as he had done before. She braced herself instinctively, heart racing.

  But instead, he gently withdrew, expression carefully neutral as he guided her toward the bed. She hesitated briefly, suddenly conscious of the intimacy in the act. Her muscles tightened, uncertainty flickering briefly through her, but Noah didn't press further. He simply helped her sit, carefully pulling back his hands.

  With unexpected gentleness, Noah arranged the weighted blanket around her, movements quiet and deliberate. Vivian watched in cautious confusion as he stepped away without speaking, retreating silently to the couch and leaving her in the unsettling quiet.

  The silence stretched between them, filled with unspoken questions Vivian wasn't ready to ask. Noah’s quiet care felt foreign, unsettling in its restraint. She couldn't help but wonder if this was genuine remorse or simply another layer to the intricate game he was playing.

  She watched him quietly, heart still unsteady, unsure if she feared this gentleness or longed to trust it.

  "When I was...out," she began slowly, voice low and uncertain, eyes fixed on the floor, "I saw things. Strange things. Memories, maybe. But they didn't feel real."

  "Memories?"

  Vivian nodded slowly, brow knitted in confusion. “There was a boy—I think he was twelve, maybe. He was watching television, his back to me. The room was old, worn-out, but I felt…safe.”

  Noah frowned slightly but kept his eyes fixed downward, listening quietly without interrupting. It was a vague reference, something Noah wasn’t sure how to respond to.

  “And someone called me Doll-Face,” Vivian continued softly, hesitance creeping into her voice. “I don’t remember ever being called that before.”

  Noah’s body went abruptly still, tension drawing tightly along his jaw. His fingers, previously resting loosely on his knee, tightened sharply, betraying a brief moment of surprise before he caught himself. Vivian didn’t seem to notice, her own gaze fixed absently on the blanket.

  “Do you think the drug could’ve caused hallucinations?” she asked carefully, voice thoughtful.

  Noah exhaled softly, quickly recovering his composure. “Yes,” he said evenly, his tone carefully neutral. “It can create false memories. Vivid dreams.”

  She nodded slowly, outwardly accepting his explanation, though suspicion lingered uncomfortably in her chest. She watched carefully as Noah approached again, movements cautious yet tender as he reached for a cool compress.

  “Rest now,” he murmured softly, gently pressing the compress against her bruised cheek, his touch feather-light yet confident. Vivian’s breath caught quietly, gaze lingering on his face, intrigued and wary of this unfamiliar side of him. As he carefully applied ointment, his movements meticulous and gentle, she felt a strange, unsettling warmth flicker briefly inside her.

  Maybe it was his unexpected tenderness, or the quiet sincerity behind his careful gestures. Maybe it was simply because this was the first genuine comfort she’d received since losing Vince and Serena, leaving her painfully starved for any kindness at all. Whatever the reason, Vivian found herself softening against her better judgment, letting herself lean subtly into the comfort she hadn’t realized she needed.

  He avoided her eyes, as if being deliberately impersonal. The thin boy from her fragmented memories drifted hauntingly through her mind, overlapping disturbingly with Noah's quiet presence.

  Vivian closed her eyes briefly, her mind churning with unanswered questions she couldn't voice yet. Too exhausted to resist, she allowed herself to sink slowly into the fragile intimacy of his careful, silent ministrations.