Chapter 3 Am I causing trouble, good sir?

Sophie’s pov ;

I barely had time to react before she viciously yanked out my IV tube, snarling, "You little bitch! You think you can dream of getting close to Dominic? How dare you seduce him!"

Pain shot through my arm, radiating all the way up to my shoulder, but my head was so heavy with meds that I could barely keep my eyes open, let alone move. My vision swam, and my body instinctively recoiled from her, but that was all I could manage. I couldn’t even lift my hand to protect myself from the venom in her voice.

Who's she, and why is she hurting me?

"You country bumpkin," she spat, her voice dripping with disdain. Her perfectly manicured fingers gripped the bed rail, and she leaned in so close I could feel her breath against my cheek. "You reek of poverty, and yet you dare to look down on me? Do you have any idea who I am?" Her eyes were wild, her expression full of rage. "One call from me, and your entire life will be ruined."

I was shaking, both from the pain in my arm and the viciousness of her words. I pulled the quilt closer to my chest, trying to shield myself, but the movement was sluggish, almost pathetic. “I-I didn’t seduce anyone. I just came here for treatment.”

She let out a harsh, mocking laugh that echoed in the small hospital room. "A girl like you? In a private hospital like this? Don’t make me laugh." Her eyes narrowed, glinting dangerously. "Dominic is my fiancé, and you think you can steal him from me with your innocent act? Do you think I don’t see through you?"

I opened my mouth to protest, but the words got caught in my throat. I couldn’t even remember meeting Dominic before this. How could I have possibly done what she was accusing me of?

Suddenly, her hand shot out again, and this time, I knew she wasn’t going for the IV. She was going to hit me.

I flinched, my body tensing, fully expecting the strike to land, but before her palm could connect with my face, a deep, furious voice cut through the air.

"Stop!"

I blinked, my heart leaping into my throat as I turned toward the doorway. Dominic William stood there, his tall frame filling the entrance, his presence immediately dominating the atmosphere. His eyes that I have seen usually so calm and composed—they were now sharp, blazing with cold fury.

He strode across the room in long strides, grabbing her wrist mid-air before she could touch me. His grip was strong, and the sound of her gasp filled the room. With a rough shove, he pushed her away from the bed, his body a barrier between her and me.

"Who gave you the right to touch her, Amanda?" His voice was low, dangerously calm but frightening.

The woman—Amanda, I realised—stumbled back, her confident facade crumbling in an instant. For the first time, fear flickered in her eyes. "Dominic, please, it's not what it looks like!" Her voice shook as she quickly scrambled to explain. "She insulted me! She called me a bitch! I was just defending myself—"

I hugged my knees to my chest, trying to make myself smaller, less noticeable. My wrist throbbed painfully where she had yanked out the IV, and I glanced down at the angry red mark that marred my skin. It hurt more than I wanted to admit, and tears stung my eyes, though I fought them back.

His gaze flicked to my wrist, and I saw his expression darken further, the muscles in his jaw tightening. He didn’t say anything at first, just pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, wiping his hand where he had touched Amanda, and then tossed the cloth aside as if it were contaminated.

"Get out," he said quietly, his voice colder than ice.

Amanda’s face paled. "Dominic, please…" She stepped forward, her hands trembling as she reached out to him, desperation clear in her voice. "I didn’t mean it. She provoked me! I was just trying to—"

"I told you to get out," he repeated, more sharply this time, his tone leaving no room for argument.

She hesitated for a moment, her eyes darting between me and Dominic. The confident, vengeful woman who had stormed into my room just minutes ago was gone. Now, she looked almost pitiful, like she couldn’t quite believe this was happening.

With one last, pleading look at Dominic, she grabbed her purse from the chair and stormed out of the room, her heels clicking sharply against the tiled floor as she left.

The room fell into silence.

The good sir turned back to me, his expression softening as his gaze landed on my wrist. He took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair as if trying to calm himself down before speaking. "Sophie?"

I swallowed, my throat dry, as I loosened my death grip on the blanket. Slowly, I lowered it enough to reveal my wrist, the skin around the spot raw and red. I didn’t mean to, but I winced as I tried to move my hand.

The tension in his jaw returned as he saw the mark, and I saw something flash in his eyes—anger, guilt, maybe both. Without a word, he pulled out his phone and called for a nurse.

Within minutes, a nurse arrived, moving quickly to reinsert the IV and clean the wound. She was efficient, but gentle, asking me if I was in pain or if I needed anything. I shook my head, staying quiet, my heart still pounding in my chest.

The good sir stood beside me the whole time, watching with a dark look that made the nurse nervous. She kept casting glances at him as she worked, clearly eager to finish her task and leave. When she finally stepped back, she mumbled a polite "Let me know if you need anything else," before quickly exiting the room.

Once the door clicked shut behind her, he turned to me again, his expression unreadable. I bit my lip, unsure of what to say. A part of me felt like I should apologise, but for what? For being here? For being involved in this mess?

"Am I c-causing trouble for you?" I asked hesitantly, my voice barely above a whisper.

"No," he replied firmly, his eyes locking onto mine. "You’re not causing trouble. You don’t need to worry about anything. Just focus on getting better. I’ll handle the rest."

His words were meant to be reassuring, but I couldn’t help the knot of unease that twisted in my stomach. I never wanted to cause trouble for anyone, especially not him. But now, it felt like I had become a problem without even trying.

I looked down at my hands, unsure of what to say. "Thank you," I murmured finally, though the words felt too small, too inadequate for everything that had just happened.

He didn’t respond right away, but when he finally spoke, his voice was softer. "Sophie, I’m sorry you had to go through that. I promise it won’t happen again."

I nodded, my heart aching in a way that had nothing to do with my injuries. I wanted to believe him, but something told me that things were far from over.