Sweet For You, Ruthl Chapter 7: The Bashing Of Hermia

Chapter 7: The Bashing Of Hermia.

"Selena, please," I say, my voice trembling with desperation. "Consider this—I’d help you if you ever needed it. You know I would." I don’t know why that man showed

so much attention, but I didn’t ask for it. I don’t even plan to see him again, so why does it have to be a problem?

Selena’s scowl deepens, her patience snapping like a brittle thread. "Hermia! Move out of the way." She steps closer, her tone laced with nace. "Or I’ll have the guards remove you myself."

Her words slice through , and I step aside, my shoulders slumping as Selena climbs into the sleek black car with a smug smile. She doesn’t spare

a second glance, doesn’t care that I’m standing out here in the cold, waiting for a ride ho she could easily offer.

The car door slams shut, and a mont later, my Uber finally arrives. I slip into the backseat, my heart pounding, my mind racing.

I don’t notice the weight of the gaze watching

from the shadows—not until the car pulls away, the city lights blurring outside the window.

Clutching my bag tightly, I stare out at the passing streets. My stomach knots at the thought of going ho. Whatever awaits

there, I can only hope they’ll understand.

But deep down, I know the truth.

Selena won’t keep this quiet.

Trouble is coming.

And I can already feel its shadow looming over .

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Niklaus POV

I stood by the large window upstairs, the distant hum of the birthday party filtering through the floors. My hands were shoved deep into my pockets, and my gaze remained locked on the driveway below.

She was still there.

Hermia.

I watched as she argued with her insufferable sister, Selena, their exchange playing out like a silent film in my mind. The way Hermia’s shoulders slumped, the subtle tremor in her voice when she pleaded—

Why did she let herself be treated like that?

I didn’t understand it. Not yet.

But I would. Soon.

"Anything you’d like

to handle, boss?" Steffon’s voice broke the quiet, a few feet behind . Ever loyal, ever present.

He’d been standing there since I stord out of the party, after that little outburst at Dante. My brother always had a way of pulling reactions from

I preferred to keep buried.

I didn’t turn away from the window. "Make sure those kids downstairs don’t overdo it tonight."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Steffon shift, letting out a faint sigh. "That’s not my job, boss. Security’s there for that."

Silence settled between us. It didn’t bother —it never did—but I could feel his eyes on , reading , trying to make sense of the thoughts running through my mind.

"Steffon," I said, my voice lower now.

"Yes, boss?"

"You gave

everything there was to know about Hermia, right?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.

There was an edge of doubt in my tone I couldn’t suppress. It gnawed at —this sudden, unrelenting need to know more than what the files told .

Steffon straightened, his posture snapping into sothing more formal. "Yes, sir. All the files are complete. Is there sothing specific you’re looking for?"

I shook my head slowly. "No."

But there was. There was sothing missing—sothing those cold, clinical files couldn’t capture.

Another beat of silence.

"You don’t look happy," Steffon said carefully. "You should be elated—you finally got to hold her today."

I let out a slow, controlled breath, pressing my lips into a thin line. "She thinks I’m trouble."

Steffon blinked, his eyebrows shooting up. "She said that?!"

"She did." I nodded once, my eyes never leaving the spot where her Uber had just pulled away. "Do you know what that ans?"

"That she’s going to avoid you," Steffon answered without hesitation.

A smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth—slow, deliberate, dangerous. The kind of smile that sent a shiver through a man’s spine.

"It also ans I get to do everything and anything to make her mine," I murmured. "That excites

so much, I can’t even smile."

Steffon’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t speak right away. When he finally did, his voice was clipped, almost robotic. "I... understand."

He didn’t. Of course he didn’t.

No one understood this. Not yet.

But they would.

I turned from the window at last, that sa smirk still resting on my face. Hermia could run all she wanted—

She was already mine.

>>>>>>>>>>>>

Hermia POV

The lights and life of the city teased

through the car window as we wound our way ho. Neon signs flickered, pedestrians laughed, and the buzz of nightlife thrumd in the air—but none of it touched . I sat stiffly in the back seat of the Uber, my fingers digging into the strap of my purse like it was the only thing keeping

together.

When we reached the gates of the estate, the towering iron bars stood like a cold, unyielding wall—a harsh reminder that the world inside was nothing like the one I’d just left behind.

Two guards in crisp uniforms stepped forward. One of them, an older man with a hard-lined face, gave the Uber a once-over before shaking his head.

"The Uber can’t go in," he said, his voice rough and indifferent.

I leaned forward, forcing a polite smile. "But it’s ."

His blank stare didn’t waver. "Orders are orders, ma’am."

I swallowed the sting of humiliation rising in my throat. Of course. They knew who I was, but it didn’t matter. Not to them. Not to anyone.

"Thanks," I muttered to the driver, paying him quickly before stepping out. The Uber’s taillights disappeared down the long road, leaving

standing there, alone.

The guards didn’t et my eyes as I adjusted the straps of my heels and started the long trek through the estate.

Each step echoed in the silence, the path stretching endlessly in the dim glow of the lamps lining the driveway. My feet throbbed, the delicate straps of my shoes biting into my skin, but I pressed on. My dress, once elegant and perfect, now felt suffocating, a reminder of how spectacularly the night had fallen apart.

’I shouldn’t have gone out,’ I thought bitterly. All that effort—my hair, my makeup, the dress—for what? Another cruel reminder of my place in this family?

The mansion lood ahead, its grand double doors tall and unwelcoming. For a fleeting mont, I wished I could disappear, slip inside unnoticed and vanish into my room.

But the universe wasn’t that kind.

The mont I stepped into the marble foyer, a familiar voice lashed through the silence.

"Hermia!"

Mariela.

Her tone was sharp enough to draw blood.

I froze, my heart slamming against my ribs. Turning slowly, I found her erging from a side room, dressed in tailored perfection, her expression a blend of fury and disdain.

And there, standing at the base of the grand staircase, was Selena—arms crossed, smirking, like she’d been waiting for this exact mont.

Of course, she had.