The Mocked Miss’s Hidden Crowns novel Chapter 1913

Roger stared down at Stella as the medication kicked in, dragging her into a deep, heavy slumber.

Needing a distraction, he grabbed her glass and downed the rest of the water, letting the cool liquid soothe the restless heat simmering in his chest.

Setting the glass aside, he reclaimed his spot on the edge of the mattress and gently brushed the damp hair away from her sweaty forehead.

Even in sleep, she radiated anxiety. Her pale knuckles were white as she gripped the sheets in a death-hold, a deep crease of distress etched between her brows.

His gaze caught a glimpse of something on her wrist.

Roger's entire body went rigid. Operating on pure instinct, he carefully pushed up her sleeve. The sight stole the breath from his lungs.

It wasn't just one. Her arm was mapped with them—a dense, chaotic crisscross of old, faded wounds of varying depths.

With his medical background, he could tell instantly that some of these lacerations had cut straight down to the bone.

Even fully healed, the scarred tissue was horrifying to witness.

His knowledge of her past was painfully limited. He knew she had been abandoned by her parents as a child, eventually crossing paths with Lottie in Lamplighter Village.

The two had relied on each other to survive, bound tighter than blood sisters.

But the grueling details of that survival? He had no idea.

Unable to stomach the thought of finding more, Roger gently tugged her sleeve back down and enveloped her cold hand in both of his.

A suffocating wave of protective anger and despair washed over him.

What the hell did she go through?

Lost in his dark thoughts, he finally pulled out his phone and opened his messages to Charlotte.

Roger: [Lottie, I need to know about the scars on her arms. What happened?]

Miles away, Charlotte’s heart skipped a beat when the text came through. She quickly typed back: [She went through hell. But it’s not my place to tell you the details.]

Went through hell...

Reading those words, his gaze turned dangerously somber.

Charlotte: [Brace yourself, Roger. If you don't think you can handle her baggage, walk away now before you hurt her.]

Walk away now...

Roger's jaw clenched tight. He looked back at her pale, fragile face, remembering how fiercely she had fought against him just moments ago. A heavy, possessive shadow fell over his eyes.

Roger: [Get some rest.]

she'd know he was never worthy of Stella to begin with.

"Mhm." Anthony stroked her hair, then gently rested a hand on her growing belly. "It's ten o'clock. Time for bed."

Now that she was on leave, her schedule was completely empty.

She had officially devolved into a pampered, heavily spoiled pregnant woman whose only daily responsibilities were eating and sleeping.

—

Stella's fever spiked and dipped throughout the night, but Roger never left her side.

It wasn't until the first light of dawn crept through the window, signaling that her temperature had finally stabilized, that he stood up to leave.

The on-call doctor was already waiting out in the hallway.

"Go on in." Rolling his stiff shoulders and rubbing his cramped hands, his voice was rough from exhaustion. "You gave her medicine three times last night, and you stayed by her side until morning. Don't mess up the story."

"Understood, Roger."

The doctor nodded, tactfully slipping into the room.