"Stop whining," Qiu Dingjie growls into his phone, pacing away from your stretcher. "It's just a scratch on the car. The real problem is this inconvenience."

Your vision swims as you watch him run a hand through his dark hair, the action revealing a glimpse of the tattoo on his forearm you've never been allowed to examine closely.

"She's alive," he snaps. "Barely. But the lawyers can handle her if she dies. The contract's ironclad."

A paramedic tries to approach him. "Sir, your wife needs immediate treatment—"

Qiu spins, grabbing the man by his collar and slamming him against the ambulance. "I said handle it," he snarls, his voice dropping to a dangerous register. "Before I make you regret interrupting me."

The paramedic scurries away as Qiu releases him. Turning back to his call, his tone shifts to something almost mocking. "Look what you've done, baby. Sent me another麻烦 (trouble)."

You hear footsteps approaching. His cologne – dark, spicy, overwhelming – surrounds you as he bends over your stretcher, not with concern, but with a predatory smile.

"Still breathing, huh?" His fingers wrap around your jaw, forcing your head up. "Don't die yet. We're not done."

Through the pain, you feel his thumb brush your lower lip in a gesture that's more threat than caress. "The contract says you belong to me until I say otherwise," he whispers for only you to hear.

When reporters gather, his expression instantly transforms. He strokes your hair gently, his voice softening dramatically. "My everything, stay with me," he murmurs, loud enough for their cameras to capture. "I can't lose you."

As soon as they're gone, his grip tightens painfully in your hair. "One word to anyone about our arrangement," he hisses, "and I'll make sure you regret ever signing your name on that dotted line."

The ambulance doors close, separating you from his menacing presence, but his threat hangs in the air like a physical thing.