The Rejected Live-in Husband Returns

Part VII: A Stranger

“They forced me to drink something. I feel so strange.” Her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed forward. 

Leo caught her easily, her slight frame feeling feather-light in his arms. She was unconscious, her skin feverish to the touch.

He knew the signs. She’d been drugged with something potent. A cold dread, different from his personal anguish, settled in his stomach. He’d heard of these substances. 

If the toxins weren’t purged from her system within hours, they could cause permanent damage, even death. Her last whispered words echoed in his mind: “Please… help me.”

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The closest safe haven was a discreet, high-end hotel he knew. He carried her inside, ignoring the curious glance from the concierge, and got a room. There was no time for a hospital; the process would be too slow, too public.

Laying her on the bed, he worked quickly and methodically. He was no doctor, but his unconventional life had taught him many things, including ancient, effective detoxification methods. He sterilized a small blade from a pocket tool he always carried. The scene was clinical, yet held an undeniable intimacy. 

He performed a careful bloodletting on specific pressure points on her arms and neck, allowing the contaminated blood to flow out, a slow, dark trickle that would carry the poison with it. He cleaned each small incision meticulously, his touch sure and gentle. 

When he was done, he covered her with a blanket and sat in a chair by the window, watching the city lights begin to twinkle as night fell, keeping a silent vigil.

Hours later, a gasp from the bed woke him from his light doze. The woman was awake. She sat bolt upright, clutching the sheets to her chest. Her eyes darted around the unfamiliar room, wide with horror. 

She saw the small, red marks on her arms where he had made the incisions, and her face crumpled.

Her gaze landed on the young man, relaxed on a couch far away from her. She didn’t even see his face clearly. A wave of grief and rage overwhelmed her. 

Grabbing a heavy crystal vase from the bedside table, she hurled it at him with a sob. “You beast! You rapist!”

Leo’s reflexes were cat-like. He sidestepped the vase, which shattered against the doorframe. He was speechless by her actions. 

He let out a long, helpless sigh, setting the water glass down on a table. “Calm down,” he said, his voice steady. 

“Before you try to kill your savior, why don’t you take a deep breath and try to remember what actually happened in the morning?”

Hearing his voice, the woman froze. The panic in her eyes receded slightly, replaced by dawning recognition. She squinted, and then her hand flew to her mouth. 

“You… you’re the man from the cemetery. You chased those men away.”

“Yes,” Leo said simply.

Flustered, her face turned crimson. “I… I am so sorry! I saw the marks on my body and this room, I thought…” 

Then, the memory of the drug returned. Her expression turned pale again as she looked down at her body, realizing she was otherwise unharmed. She stammered, her voice barely a whisper, 

“But the drug, did you… did we…?”

Leo sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that day. Instead of answering directly, he turned and called out toward the open door. 

“Olivia. Bring him in.”

His subordinate, Olivia, entered the room, followed by an elderly man with a kind face and a medical bag. 

They nodded respectfully to Leo. 

“Sir,” Olivia said.

“Please,” Leo said to the confused woman, gesturing to the doctor. “Let him examine you. For your own peace of mind.”

Hesitantly, she extended her wrist. The doctor took her pulse, checked her pupils, and examined the small incisions on her arm. After a few moments, he turned to Leo.

“You handled it perfectly, sir,” the doctor said with professional admiration. “The toxins have been successfully expelled. She just needs to keep the wounds clean and dry. She will be weak for a day or two, but there will be no lasting effects.”

Leo nodded. He picked up his glass of water and took a sip, then turned back to the woman. 

“As you heard. Nothing happened between us. After you fainted, bloodletting was the fastest way to save your life. The marks on your skin are just where I made the incisions.”

A wave of immense relief washed over her, so powerful it left her trembling. She blushed a deep, genuine red of embarrassment. 

“I… I don’t know how to thank you. Or how to apologize for… the vase.”

Leo gave a small, dismissive wave. “It’s fine. I understand the fear. No need for more words.” He paused, his tone shifting.

“Now, where do you live? I’ll have Olivia drive you home.”

To his surprise, the question seemed to cause her more pain than the ordeal she had just endured. She looked down at her hands, a profound sadness settling on her features. She let out a soft, broken sigh.

“Home?” she repeated, the word sounding foreign on her tongue. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with a lonelin

ess that mirrored his own. 

“I… I don’t have one. My home is long gone