Elise turned to leave.

William’s arms encircled her from behind, pulling her back against him.

The sharp, unmistakable scent of alcohol hit her immediately. He had been drinking heavily.

"Stay," he murmured into her hair, his hold firm. His lips brushed the sensitive skin of her neck, inhaling her clean, unique fragrance as if it were a drug.

It intoxicated him. Drove him mad.

His embrace tightened. His mouth traced a slow, teasing path along her nape.

"Does it feel good to have two women in your arms?" Elise’s voice was icy, a stark contrast to his heated touch.

William froze.

She let out a cold, derisive laugh. "Between Victoria and me, whose embrace is more satisfying?"

His entire body went rigid.

"And one more thing," she added, her tone dripping with disdain. "I despise the smell of jasmine perfume."

She had recognized it instantly. Victoria’s signature scent was all over him.

His arms slackened. A slight shift of her shoulders was all it took to break free.

She walked out, closing the bedroom door behind her with a firm, final click. It felt like shutting a part of her heart away from him forever.

Elise returned to her bed.

She wasn't particularly thirsty, but the failed attempt to get water left her feeling unsettled, restless.

She tossed and turned. Sleep refused to come.

The phantom scent of jasmine seemed to cling to the air, tormenting her.

It was driving her insane.

Finally, she threw the covers off and headed for the shower. Her doctor had cleared her for showers, provided she was cautious.

The main rule was to avoid infection and prevent any falls. Her injured right leg and the various cuts and bruises covering her body required careful attention.

It was a slow, tedious process. Every movement was measured, deliberate.

After what felt like an eternity, she finished. She dressed in fresh, comfortable loungewear.

Stepping out of the bathroom, she noticed the clock. It was already 1 AM.

Back in her room, a thermos cup sat on her nightstand. She opened it. Warm water, perfectly maintained at her preferred temperature of 104 degrees.

Elise’s lips pressed into a thin line.

She didn't make a habit of midnight drinks. Yet, William always seemed to know. He anticipated her needs with an almost unsettling accuracy.

She woke late the next morning, a direct result of her late night.

Fortunately, her schedule was light. She had already handled her most pressing work matters over the phone.

Entering the living room, she found William on the couch, focused on his phone.

He looked up as she appeared. Without a word, he stood and moved to the open-concept kitchen.

By the time she settled at the dining table, he was placing a plate of breakfast in front of her.

They hadn't lived together for long, but this rhythm, this unspoken routine, had already been established.

To be precise, William understood her completely. She was merely the passive recipient of his meticulous care.

They ate together. It was past ten, but he had waited for her.

"Is it to your liking?" William asked, watching her.

Elise met his gaze.

"I heard you didn't eat well last night," he stated bluntly. "I replaced the chef. If something isn't to your taste, tell me. Don't force yourself to endure it."

Elise’s jaw tightened slightly.

She hadn't expected her poor appetite last night to cost someone their job.

"It's fine," she said.

Sometimes, she was convinced William did everything with a purpose. He was deliberately using her inherent decency, her inability to be truly cruel, to get what he wanted.

Well, she had learned. Now, even when her mood was at its worst, she would never again skip a meal.