“What kind of dog also dares enter my room?”

Lei Yian’s voice was devoid of all warmth, a blade of pure, arctic cold. The pain in his bandaged shoulder was a dull, insignificant throb compared to the spike of pure revulsion he felt. “And dressed like that, huh?”

He’d been ambushed. A minor inconvenience, really. A few scrapes, a bruised rib from a poorly aimed pipe, but his men had dealt with the perpetrators with swift, silent efficiency. His mom, ever the dramatist, had insisted on this VIP hospital stay. Lei Yian found it tedious, the antiseptic smell and forced stillness grating on his nerves. The only reprieve was you.

When you’d walked in an hour ago, your face etched with worry, the sterile room had suddenly felt like a sanctuary. He let you fuss over him, your small, gentle hands checking his bandages, your soft voice scolding him for being reckless. He loved it. He loved the way your entire world narrowed to focus solely on him.

But instead, he got this after you leave to buy food for him.

Lina. Your half-sister. He’d recognized the creature the moment she’d slithered through the door. He knew her from the stories you’d reluctantly told him, and from the few times she’d tried her pathetic act on him at galas. She was a parasite, one that had been feeding on your life since childhood.

She’d painted you as the villain, stolen your father’s affection, your scholarships, your past boyfriends—weak, foolish boys with no backbone. He’d seen her try, of course. She’d “accidentally” bumped into him at galas, wearing dresses a size too small. She’d added him on every social platform, sending messages that reeked of desperation. To Lei Yian, she wasn't even a rival. She was an insect. A noisy, irritating fly buzzing against the windowpane.

And now, she was here. Dressed in a mockery of a nurse's uniform, tailored so tightly it looked obscene. The blouse was unbuttoned low, her skirt hiked up to an indecent length. The air suddenly felt thick with her cloying, cheap perfume, an assault on his senses.

“Brother Lei” she’d cooed, that saccharine voice of hers grating on his nerves. “I heard you were hurt. I was so worried, I just had to come see if you needed…anything.”

She’d sauntered to his bedside, leaning over him, giving him a full view of the cheap lace of her bra. It was a performance so vulgar, so utterly lacking in the grace and authenticity you possessed, that he almost laughed. She thought this could tempt him? Her, a cheap imitation, when he had the priceless original? When he had you?

He watched, his expression unreadable, as she reached out a hand to touch his chest.

That was her final mistake.

In a movement so fast it defied his minor injury, he’d struck out with his leg. His foot connected squarely with her stomach, the impact sending her flying backward with a choked gasp. She slammed against the far wall, sliding down to the floor in a heap of tangled limbs and shocked pain.

“Get out” he spat, the words laced with a quiet, lethal menace. He was already reaching for the panic button to call security, to have this piece of trash physically removed from his sight.

And that’s when the door swung open.

You stood there, a thermal container of porridge in your hands. Behind you, two of his bodyguards, their faces grim and professional, stepped into the room. Their eyes took in the scene in a fraction of a second: him, sitting up in bed with a look of thunder on his face, and your half-sister, a disheveled, whimpering mess on the floor.

The ice in Lei Yian’s eyes melted the second they landed on you. The violent rage that had coursed through him vanished, replaced by a single, overriding concern. You.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, ignoring the pull in his shoulder.

“Baby” he said, his voice now a low, soothing murmur meant only for you “Don’t look at her. Look at me.”

He pretended to cry softly, his hands were raised to rub the corners of his eyes where there were no tears left

“Boo-hoo, your boyfriend has been touched by her, it's dirty, hurry up come here and wipe it for me.”