After the Affair: Falling into a Billionaire's Arms Chapter 55

The man flinched in shock, surprised that a woman could be so fierce toward him.

Just then, someone muttered, "Who cares if she lives or dies? We got paid to do a job. Even if she dies, we're still going through with it."

"Right! Let's go!" The men finally snapped into action, lunging forward and wrenching the knife from her grasp. In seconds, she was completely pinned to the bed.

Her body felt feverish and wretched as countless hands pawed at her, tearing at her clothes. She couldn't fight anymore. 

Several disgusting, filthy hands crept up her legs, one clutching a syringe. They were about to inject something into her body.

A tidal wave of despair washed over her. Tears slid down her face. Even facing death, she refused to let these men have their way. She slowly closed her eyes and bit down on her tongue, attempting to end her life.

Just then, the sound of a keycard unlocking the door cut through the room. A thunderous crash followed as the door flew open with tremendous force. The men in the room froze in alarm.

By this point, Louisa's consciousness was fading. She lay helplessly on the bed, hair disheveled, clothes in disarray, blood dripping from her wrist onto the pristine white carpet below. 

Through the haze, she made out a group of figures in the doorway, standing in formation.

In the center stood a tall, straight-backed silhouette. Though she couldn't make out his features, a name floated through her mind: Julian. He had come for her.

He strode toward her, removing his jacket and wrapping it around her body before helping her sit up.

"Mr. Tudor," she managed to whisper.

"I'm here. I'm here." In that moment, his typically elegant composure faltered, his breath uneven. His refined, dignified aura had been replaced by something ice-cold. But his voice remained warm, reassuring.

She couldn't speak another word, collapsing into his embrace. 

Julian held her close, looking down at her. Her eyes were closed in exhaustion, her pale, beautiful face still marked with tear tracks. Her long lashes trembled, blood dripping from her wrist. She embodied a quiet, desperate, and utterly broken beauty.

Something tightened in his chest as he pulled off his tie and wrapped it around her bleeding wrist. "Don't be afraid. I'm taking you away from here," he whispered.

She nodded trustingly as he lifted her into his arms.

By now, Teddy's men had restrained all the attackers. Julian carried Louisa past him, his voice glacial: "Handle this."

"Yes, sir!" Teddy responded immediately.

Julian strode out with Louisa in his arms. "Bob, get the car ready!" Louisa's condition required immediate medical attention.

---

Bob drove while Julian sat in the back with Louisa nestled against him. 

The clean, refined scent of him made her feel safe. In her confused state, she instinctively pressed closer.

Julian responded by lifting her onto his lap, gently brushing the sweat-dampened hair from her forehead. He thought he heard her murmur something.

Listening carefully, he made out a single word: "Cold."

"Bob, turn on the heat," Julian ordered.

"Yes, sir."

Before the heater had even started working, Louisa spoke again: "Hot."

Bob remained silent in the driver's seat. Heat or air conditioning? Which was it?

Julian realized she wasn't referring to the car's temperature but to her own body. Whatever drug they'd injected was causing her to experience alternating hot and cold sensations.

He held her tighter. "It's okay. We're almost at the hospital."

But Louisa was beyond understanding his words. She was searching for relief, her small hands restlessly moving against him until somehow they slipped beneath his shirt. 

His skin felt like cool spring water—refreshing and soothing to her touch. So she continued exploring.

Julian closed his eyes, struggling to maintain his composure, though his ears betrayed him by turning red. With reluctance, he gently removed her hands from his back. "That's enough now."

But Louisa had no idea what she was doing—she only knew that the comforting sensation had disappeared. 

Displeased, she wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face against his throat. The drugs in her system had made her breathing rapid, each warm exhale caressing his Adam's apple like gentle kisses.

Julian's own breathing grew uneven. He considered pushing Louisa away slightly, but ultimately couldn't bring himself to do it. Instead, he simply patted her head, his voice low and soothing: "Hold on. We'll be at the hospital soon."

---

The hospital they went to belonged to the Tudor Group. Bob had called ahead, and everything was prepared when they arrived. Julian carried Louisa into the operating room.

The procedure wasn't long, but the anesthesia kept her unconscious. When she finally woke, darkness had fallen outside.

She kept her eyes closed at first, listening to the rhythmic sound of turning pages nearby. Slowly opening her eyes, she immediately spotted Julian sitting elegantly on a nearby sofa, legs crossed, reviewing documents.

Fragments of the previous night flashed through her mind. He had saved her again—for the third time.

She wanted to thank him, but her throat felt blocked, painful like a knife when she tried to speak.

Julian noticed movement from her direction and looked up. "You're awake?"

Setting aside his papers, he walked to her bedside and placed the back of his hand against her forehead. Good—her fever had broken.

As he started to withdraw his hand, she suddenly grasped it in hers.