Chapter 2

I don’t know how much time passed.

I just felt hot and weak all over.

In a hazy dream, I thought I saw Leo.

He was angry with me, demanding to know why I was sleeping with his beloved man.

I wanted to scream that I was a straight guy, I didn’t want to either.

But I couldn’t speak, frustrated and scratching at myself.

Leo cried harder and harder, until his whole face dissolved into a blurry mess of tears.

Just like his horrifying face after he was flung by that speeding car…

“Leo!” I cried, but my outstretched hand grasped nothing.

Couldn’t grasp Leo, flung by the car.

Couldn’t grasp Leo, fading away, still blaming me.

…

“Kian, it’s me.” A soft, deep male voice, like a gentle, steady breeze, cleared all the chaotic images from my mind.

I opened my eyes and saw Spencer sitting beside me.

My arm was clutched tightly in his hand, the sleeve of his crisp white shirt already a crumpled mess.

I quickly let go, my voice dry and hoarse: “Sorry.”

He reached up to check my forehead. His clear, elegant eyes behind his glasses looked away, avoiding my gaze: “The fever’s gone down.”

I hummed, glancing at the dim, dark sky outside the window, and asked him, “How long was I asleep?”

“Thirty-two hours.” Spencer glanced at the grey diamond watch on his wrist.

I shifted my body, and everything ached.

A certain place felt like a scorching, piercing pain.

Still, I bit back the pain and sat up, leaning against the headboard: “Thank you. Every time something goes wrong, I end up troubling you.”

“Julian pays, I perform.” Spencer didn’t look up, methodically organizing his medical kit.

But then, without warning, his movements faltered, instruments clinking together.

He sprang to the bedside, his perfectly chiseled face inches from mine, the corners of his eyes flushed with raw emotion: “Kian, trust me. I *can* help you!”

I stared at him, forcing a bitter smile and shaking my head.

This was the second time I’d rejected his offer of help.

Spencer was Julian’s private physician.

Whenever I felt unwell and a few pills weren’t enough, he was the one who handled it.

Two years ago, when my knee was shattered, Julian called him to treat me.

That was the first time I’d seen the usually cool and composed Spencer lose his composure.

He picked me up, growling, “He needs to go to the hospital! Otherwise, he’ll lose this leg!”

Unfortunately, Julian merely chuckled dismissively: “Good. Leo had his leg broken for me, and was left unable to walk. His stand-in ought to be more dedicated.”

I leaned my head against Spencer’s chest, feeling his frantic heartbeat.

He looked down at me, his lips trembling.

Then, ignoring Julian’s protests, he took me to his hospital.

After the surgery, when the anesthesia wore off, I was drenched in cold sweat from the pain.

Spencer pushed his glasses up, seemingly making a decision:

“Kian, I can find a way to deal with your father’s debt.”

I looked at this usually silent, aloof man, a little surprised.

He was Julian’s friend, yet he wanted to save me from this hell.

But this hell was something I had to endure.

I needed to stay by Julian’s side as Leo’s substitute, so that Julian would go easy and not pursue the massive debt my dad owed him.

Otherwise, my dad wouldn't survive.

I stopped reminiscing, avoiding Spencer’s earnest gaze: “Dr. Hayes, I’m fine now. You can go.”

I could practically hear his jaw grinding in frustration.

But he said no more, stood up, grabbed his medical kit, and left.

He ran into Julian outside the door.

The door was ajar, and their conversation was perfectly clear.

“Is Kian alright?” Julian asked, his tone dismissive.

Spencer’s emotions were now perfectly concealed: “The fever’s gone down. But the tearing down there will need some time to heal.”

He paused, then added, “Julian, control yourself.”

Julian scoffed: “Isn’t that what you’re here for? He won’t die.”

Then he pushed the door open and walked in.

I looked away, not wanting to see him.

Julian sat on the edge of the bed and placed the takeout he was carrying on the nightstand: “You’re hungry, right? Eat something.”

It wasn't concern, it was a command.

I looked at the takeout. It was heavily spiced tripe stew.

“You love it, don’t you? Don’t leave any.” Julian opened the box, pulled out a pair of disposable gloves, and held it out to me.

“I’m not hungry.”

Julian didn’t move.

His cold, menacing eyes fixed on me, unblinking.

Resigned, I put on the gloves and took the container.

I took a bite. It was insanely spicy.

Julian pulled out his phone and opened a surveillance feed.

It showed Spencer and me talking just moments ago.

“Kian, I know your every move. Don’t try to pull any stunts. It’s useless.”

A chill snaked up my spine, and I instinctively looked around.

I had no idea where the cameras were hidden.

I lowered my head and continued to gnaw on the tripe. It was so spicy.

That’s why, I told myself, I was crying.