The Petty Man and the Ruffian

"Ah? What are you doing? Let go of me! What do you want?" Avery Miller's heart sank as she heard Ethan Montgomery's last words, desperately trying to break free and demand an explanation. 

Yet Ethan, with his overwhelming strength, held her firmly in his grasp, her efforts to kick and beat him proving futile against his iron-like grip.

"Ethan Montgomery, release me, you deceitful man, you've tricked me!" she cried out as he laid her on the bed and leaned down to kiss her. 

However, at her accusation, he couldn't help but lift his head, amused.

"Tell me, how have I been deceitful? What exactly did I trick you about?" he asked, his deep, ink-black eyes gleaming with mockery, his sensuous lips tinged with desire from their almost-kiss.

"I... I can't say," Avery stammered, her eyes wide and brimming with hurt. She hadn't considered this aspect.

His understanding of marital duties differed vastly from hers!

Avery thought being a wife meant managing the household and cooking, like her late mother, never imagining he saw her merely as an outlet for his frustration, and certainly not as his only woman.

"Heh, so naïve," he scoffed, seemingly reading her thoughts, then resumed his search for the sweetness he had only just begun to taste. 

Avery turned her head, allowing his kiss to land on her cheek. 

Ethan looked at her, anger flickering in his deep, dark eyes, "Remember, you're bound by a contract. Don't make me angry." With that, he lowered his head, finding her lips, and swept over her with ferocity.

"Mmm..." Her protests were muffled, her breath trapped by his angry kiss, causing her pain, completely disregarding her discomfort.

"Let me go, you brute!" she managed to gasp out, her mournful eyes locked on his, tears streaming down her face.

"A brute? Well then, I might as well act the part, else I'll be falsely accused," Ethan retorted, his lips silencing her next words. 

His grip tightened in apparent anger, leaving Avery's hand bruised and sore, beads of sweat forming on her forehead.

Ignoring her cries, in the darkness of the night, his captivating eyes grew increasingly clouded with intense desire.

"Please, no, you..." Her words were cut off as he sealed her lips again. Avery closed her eyes, hiding the bitter struggle and helplessness that filled them.

Unaware, Avery Miller had ceased her struggles, fresh tears streaming down her face that had just dried, her mouth slightly open in a silent cry of exhaustion.

When he finally finished, Avery had passed out, her face eerily pale and blue, a frightening sight to behold.

Ethan Montgomery collapsed beside her, covering her with a blanket and holding her tender body as he fell into a deep sleep.

The night was profoundly silent.

When Avery Miller woke, it was already noon. The sunlight outside the curtain was just right, brilliantly illuminating her bed. Opening her eyes, she noticed the IV drip above her head.

What is this?

Looking to her side, he was gone. After last night's ordeal, it was surprising he had the energy to get up early, and she had no clue when he had left.

Removing the needle from her hand, a drop of blood formed a bubble. Climbing out of bed, pain assaulted her body, forcing her to recall the events of the previous night.

Stretching her arms, Avery saw the shocking bruises on her delicate white hands, still swollen and painful despite the ointment.

She didn't check the rest of her body, assuming it was just as bad. There was no uncomfortable wet sensation, likely because he had cleaned her. But no matter how clean, the marks on her body couldn't be washed away.

After all, he was not a caring person, just a lover bound by a contract. Such turmoil wouldn't evoke any sympathy in him.

Suddenly, tears welled up, a wave of bitterness flooding her heart. With clenched lips, she swallowed the sorrow.

The old clock on the white wall ticked away the seconds, cutting the unclear years into fine threads that combined into what's called yesterday and today.

She tried to walk but collapsed after a step, the pain in her lower body still intense.

Unable to walk, she knelt at the foot of the bed, staring blankly ahead, emotionless, just lost in thought.

After resting a while, she struggled to her feet again, this time with some strength in her legs, although they felt numb from squatting too long. 

Avery sat on the bed until her feet recovered, then went to the wardrobe to find clean clothes.

Her long hair still draped over her shoulders, she emotionlessly adjusted her makeup. Glancing at the bathroom sink, she noticed a 100-franc note, clean and crisp as if newly issued but slightly wrinkled, as if it had just been wet and dried.

Was this left by him? 

Accidentally wet and then dried here? 

Avery Miller glanced at the banknote casually. She had never been abroad before; this was her first encounter with a real Franc. 

However, it was when she flipped to the back of the note that she noticed something peculiar - two letters written in ballpoint pen: HH.

HH? Did it hold any significance?

Holding the banknote, Avery's lips curled into a mocking smile. Just two mundane uppercase letters. 

Yet, she couldn't help but associate them with him. It was likely that these letters were on the note even before it reached his hands. He didn't seem like someone who would engage in such trivial acts.

Finally making up her mind while looking at the money, Avery thought he wouldn't mind her using it; after all, he was wealthy. 

It was just what she needed for her outing. She didn't want to stay cooped up alone. She could use the entire note for transportation.

Stepping out, Avery Miller felt her spirits lift slightly. Her steps became lighter, her legs still a bit sore, but walking was no longer an issue.

She had once dreamt of studying in Paris, eager to see the Eiffel Tower and the Notre-Dame from her books. 

But now, standing here, breathing this air, brushing shoulders with the locals, she realized how surreal it felt to be this close to her dreams.