Chapter 177

Susan's pupils constricted sharply.

Alexander Grant's actions left her utterly bewildered.

First, he offered trust that warmed her heart, only to send Kevin Oak to humiliate her moments later. Now this inexplicable embrace made her question whether the man had severe mental issues.

She didn't discriminate against those with mental illness, but the terrifying memories of Greenhill Mental Hospital still haunted her.

The shadows of that night refused to fade.

Had Andrew Lucas not arrived in time, her life might have been ruined by Kevin Oak. Those drugs had stripped her of all reason—staying in that livestream room any longer would have been disastrous.

And the mastermind behind it all was this capricious man standing before her.

"Mr. Grant, please behave yourself!"

Susan pushed him away in a panic, bending to pick up the fallen coat and shoving it back into his arms. "You must be swamped with work. You should leave."

Alexander narrowed his eyes.

The way she looked at him was off—that wariness and guardedness, as if sizing up some dangerous creature.

The feeling of being rejected made his chest tighten.

But when his gaze landed on the wounds on her hands, all his displeasure dissolved into guilt.

"Susan, I didn't know it was you last night."

For the first time in his life, the proud Alexander Grant lowered his head to explain. "I never meant to hurt you."

"Had I known it was you, I wouldn't have let Kevin Oak come anywhere near you."

He paused, then continued, "Women have often schemed to get close to me, even resorting to drugging me. When my grandfather called, I thought you were one of them."

Susan froze.

The cold and ruthless heir of the Grant empire was actually apologizing to her?

But that didn't change the facts.

"Mr. Grant, when you sent Kevin Oak, you should have considered the consequences." Her voice trembled. "Some wounds can't be healed with an apology."

"I need to freshen up. Please leave."

She pulled open the door, but the man didn't budge.

Susan turned to walk away when her wrist was suddenly seized.

"You're hurt."

Alexander's voice carried an unprecedented tenderness. Without waiting for a response, he pressed her onto the sofa. "Let me handle this."

A single phone call later, Patrick Pope arrived within ten minutes with a full medical kit.

Alexander gently cleaned the wound on her right hand. Though Andrew had already treated it, the gruesome scar was still horrifying to behold.

Patrick stood by, dumbfounded.

Was this man, so careful as he applied ointment, really his decisive and ruthless young master?

When it came to her left hand, the blood-soaked bandage had fused with her flesh. Susan clenched her teeth, her face as pale as paper.

Alexander's heart clenched.

How much pain was she in?

When he peeled back the bandage to reveal the mangled stump where her pinky finger had been, his eyes burned.

"Your finger..." His voice was hoarse. "How did you lose it?"