Too Late, Mr. Cooper: Your Bride Ran with Your Baby novel Chapter 9

Pushing the door open, she was met with the coppery smell of blood. The heir of Crownport, who always held himself so high, was kneeling on the floor, his back perfectly straight. Linton’s upper body was bare, revealing a canvas of well-defined muscles crisscrossed with angry red welts, each one oozing blood. It was a shocking sight.

Beads of sweat dotted his forehead, trickling down the elegant line of his nose to his tensed, trembling neck. His lips were pressed into a thin, cool line.

The old man hadn't held back; he'd been determined to beat some sense into Linton. Liliana tossed the first-aid kit next to him with a kick. “You always carry yourself like you’re above everyone else, Mr. Cooper,” she said with a laugh. “Funny to see you brought so low.”

She was here to gloat. Linton slowly lifted his eyelids, a single drop of sweat clinging to his long, thick lashes. Hearing her soft, mocking voice, he didn't seem annoyed. He simply swept the sweat-dampened black hair from his forehead with one hand and gave up on kneeling. He shifted, sitting casually on the study’s mahogany floor. Pulling a cigarette from his pocket, he lit it, took a slow drag, and then narrowed his almond-shaped eyes as he exhaled a cloud of smoke.

Through the haze, Linton’s cool eyes fixed on Liliana, who was looking down at him with a playful smile. “Satisfied?” he asked, his voice low and raspy, its meaning unclear.

Liliana just smiled back at him without a word. Linton didn't seem to mind. A slight smirk played on his sensual lips as he held the cigarette. “Come here and patch me up,” he coaxed.

This was their routine. Linton would do something to anger Liliana, and Old Mr. Cooper would punish him, regardless of who was right, to appease her. Afterwards, Liliana would be sent to tend to his wounds. Linton had always scorned his grandfather’s method of pairing a beating with a sweet reward, but he had grown accustomed to Liliana taking care of him. His little firecracker was spoiled and willful, but when she tended to his injuries, she would kneel before him with red-rimmed eyes, her touch surprisingly gentle and cautious.

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