His innocent wife is a dangerous hacker.

Chapter 795 He takes you for granted

Bella saw his expression. The sick, satisfied smile. The way his eyes fluttered closed, lashes brushing against his cheeks. The way he leaned into her hits like they were caresses like he was drinking in every moment, every touch, every second of her hands on him. His lips parted slightly, and a soft sigh escaped his mouth.

She stepped back.

She moved away from him quickly, her skin crawling, her stomach churning, her heart pounding with disgust so strong it made her dizzy. She looked at her hands like they were covered in filth, like she had touched something diseased, something rotting from the inside out.

She could still feel the impact of his chest against her fists, the way his muscles had tensed under her knuckles, the way he had not flinched, had not defended himself, had just stood there and taken it like it was a gift.

She wanted to disinfect them. Scrub them raw with soap and hot water and bleach. Erase the feeling of his skin, his shirt, his breath, his presence from her body.

Samuel opened his eyes. His smile did not fade. If anything, it grew wider, stretching across his face like a wound.

"You hit so softly," he said, his voice almost tender, like he was praising a child for a drawing. "Like a kitten. I like it."

Bella’s jaw tightened. Her hands curled into fists at her sides. Her nails pressed into her palms, leaving crescent-shaped marks.

"Where is Mira?" she said again, her voice cold as ice, as cold as she could make it, as cold as the fear pooling in her stomach.

Samuel tilted his head, his blonde hair falling across his forehead. "Upstairs. Safe for now."

"Take me to her."

"Not yet." He stepped closer, and Bella stepped back. "We have so much to talk about, butterfly. So much time to make up for. A year of watching from a distance. A year of wanting and dreaming. I want to savor this."

Bella’s eyes narrowed. Her hands curled into fists at her sides.

"Talk fast," she said. "Because I’m not staying long."

Samuel laughed again. The sound echoed off the walls, bounced back at them, faded into nothing. His laugh sounded lonely. Hollow like an echo in an empty room, like a voice calling out to someone who was not there.

"We’ll see," he said. "We’ll see."

He took a breath, and his expression shifted. The hardness in his eyes softened. The sharp edges of his smile rounded. His gaze grew almost dreamy, like he was looking at something far away, something only he could see.

"You know," he said, his voice quiet, almost shy, "I love you so much. I have collected more than five thousand photos of you. Five thousand. I have them organized by date, by outfit, by expression. I can look at them for hours and never get bored."

He paused, watching her face.

"Has he done that? No. Of course not. He doesn’t care because you’re with him. He takes you for granted." Samuel’s voice trembled with something that might have been hurt, might have been anger, might have been both. "He doesn’t deserve you. He doesn’t appreciate you. He doesn’t see you the way I do."

He stepped closer, and Bella stood her ground this time. She did not step back.

"Oh, I know how much you love sweets and little animals. I know everything about you, butterfly." His eyes grew bright, almost feverish. "How about we get together? I’ll buy you some cats. A whole house full of them and a small bird. Whatever you want. Anything you want. Just say the word."

Bella’s eyes flicked toward the door.

It was a small movement, barely noticeable. A shift of her gaze, a twitch of her eyelid but Samuel noticed.

His smile vanished. His eyes hardened. The softness drained from his face, replaced by something cold and sharp.

"You didn’t tell him, did you?" His voice was low, dangerous, each word a warning. "If you tell him, I’ll kill Mira. I’ll kill her slowly. I’ll make sure you hear every scream."

Bella’s expression remained blank and Unreadable.

"I didn’t tell him," she said.

Samuel studied her face, searching for lies, for cracks, for anything. His eyes moved across her features like a scanner, reading her, decoding her, trying to find the truth.

He found nothing.

A smile crept back onto his lips. Soft, Warm and Almost loving.

"Oh, baby. My butterfly." He reached out as if to touch her cheek, then stopped himself. "You’re so good. So perfect. So obedient."

He gestured toward the center of the room. "Let’s eat while we talk. I’ve prepared a date for us. I cooked everything myself."

Bella turned her head.

The lights flickered.

Dim, warm lights strung across the ceiling flickered to life, casting a soft glow over the space. They twinkled like stars, like fireflies, like something out of a fairy tale. A table sat in the center of the room, covered with a white cloth that seemed to glow in the low light. Two chairs faced each other. Plates, silverware, glasses, all arranged neatly, precisely like a painting.

It looked almost romantic.

Bella’s stomach turned.

Samuel walked to the table and pulled out a chair. He held it for her, waiting, his eyes never leaving her face.

She hesitated. Every instinct told her to run, to scream, to fight. But thinking about her plan, she calmed down herself.

She walked to the table and sat down.

Samuel pushed the chair in, his hands brushing against her shoulders. She flinched. He did not seem to notice.

He walked to the other side and sat across from her.

Bella watched him.

The way he sat, back straight, shoulders squared, hands resting on the table at precise angles, was exactly like Leo. The same posture. The same movements. The same way of tilting his head when he was thinking.

Bella’s skin crawled.

"It would be better if you had worn a sexy dress," Samuel said, smirking. "Something red. Something that showed off your legs. I would have liked that."

Bella didn’t respond.

He waited. She said nothing.

His smirk faded.

"Do you know what Jay and my so-called stepbrother are hiding?" he asked, leaning forward, his eyes glittering.

Bella’s eyes widened just for a fraction.

Samuel’s smile returned. "Let me give you a hint. It’s not about my so-called dad threatening them.."

Bella didn’t answer.

He watched her, waiting for a reaction, for a question, for anything. His fingers tapped against the tablecloth.

She gave him nothing.