His Unwanted Wife Is A Genius Healer

The morning sun pierced through the gap in the heavy curtains, striking Elizbeth directly in the eyes.

She groaned and shifted on the narrow velvet sofa. Her neck was stiff, and a dull ache radiated down her spine.

She sat up, rubbing the back of her neck. The sound of running water echoed from the master bathroom.

A moment later, the bathroom door swung open. Carlton walked out. He had a white towel wrapped low around his waist. Droplets of water clung to his broad chest and slid down the deep ridges of his abs.

Elizbeth's breath hitched. Heat rushed to her cheeks. She quickly averted her eyes, staring hard at the floor, her heart suddenly beating entirely too fast.

A sharp knock sounded at the bedroom door.

"Sir," Judi's voice called out clearly from the hallway. "The elder Mr. Wilkinson is coming up the stairs."

Carlton's head snapped toward the door. Panic flashed in his dark eyes. He moved instantly.

He crossed the room in three massive strides and grabbed Elizbeth by the upper arm.

"Hey!" Elizbeth yelped as he hauled her off the sofa.

He practically threw her onto the center of the king-sized bed. She bounced against the mattress, completely disoriented.

Carlton jumped onto the bed next to her. He grabbed the thick duvet and yanked it up, covering them both up to their shoulders. He pulled her body flush against his bare, damp chest.

The double doors of the bedroom swung open.

Jacob Wilkinson stepped into the room. He leaned heavily on a silver-headed cane, his sharp, calculating eyes scanning the space.

The cold, ruthless expression on Carlton's face vanished instantly. It was replaced by a soft, affectionate smile.

Carlton wrapped his heavy arm around Elizbeth's waist, pulling her even closer. He rested his chin on the top of her head.

Elizbeth's entire body went rigid. Her muscles locked up.

Carlton's fingers dug into her waist under the covers, pinching her hard. It was a silent, painful warning.

Elizbeth gasped slightly from the pinch. She forced the corners of her mouth up into a shy smile. She looked at the old man.

"Good morning, Grandfather," she said, her voice tight.

Jacob's sharp eyes lingered on their tangled bodies. The tight lines around his mouth relaxed into a satisfied nod.

He walked slowly toward the side of the bed. "How did you both sleep?" he asked, his voice rough like sandpaper.

Carlton ducked his head. He pressed his warm lips against Elizbeth's forehead, letting them linger there.

"Everything was perfect, Grandfather," Carlton murmured, his voice thick with fake adoration.

The feel of his lips on her skin sent a violent shiver down Elizbeth's spine. A bitter, sour feeling rose in the back of her throat.

Jacob reached into his tweed jacket pocket. He pulled out a small, square velvet box and set it gently on the nightstand.

"Take good care of your wife, Carlton," Jacob instructed. He tapped his cane on the floor once, turned around, and walked out of the room.

The heavy doors closed. The loud click of the lock echoed in the quiet room.

The warmth vanished from Carlton's face in a fraction of a second. His eyes turned back to ice.

He let go of Elizbeth as if she were covered in acid. He threw the duvet off his body and rolled out of the bed, putting as much distance between them as possible.

The sudden loss of his body heat was a stark reminder of the act. The warmth had been a lie, and the cold that replaced it felt more honest, yet somehow more brutal. A bitter wave of humiliation washed over her, and she had to fight the sting in her eyes.

Carlton grabbed a dry towel and aggressively rubbed his wet hair. He glared at her.

"Clean yourself up," he ordered, his voice dripping with disdain. "And don't get used to the acting. Remember exactly why you're here."

Elizbeth clamped her teeth together. She pulled the duvet up to her chest, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the fabric. She refused to let a single tear fall while he was looking.

Carlton walked into the closet. He emerged a few minutes later wearing a perfectly tailored Armani suit. He didn't even glance at the velvet box on the nightstand.

He grabbed his watch from the dresser, strapped it to his wrist, and walked out of the bedroom without looking back.

After Carlton left, Elizbeth sat alone in the massive, empty bed. She reached out with a trembling hand and picked up the velvet box, her chest heavy with a suffocating weight. She knew she couldn't stay in this hostile room without the one thing that brought her comfort. Slipping out of the master bedroom, she hurried down the hall to the guest room.