The Mocked Miss’s Hidden Crowns novel Chapter 1948

"No." Roger caught her wrist and effortlessly pulled her back, depositing her right onto his lap. He stared deeply into her panicked eyes, letting out a low, breathy laugh. "I'm a doctor. I'm perfectly aware of when I'm in actual danger."

"Are you sure?" Stella asked cautiously, her large eyes wide with lingering fear. The scare had completely short-circuited her defenses, leaving her sitting obediently on his lap like a terrified kitten.

"I'm positive." Roger nodded, his unblinking gaze growing undeniably heated. "Go to sleep. Don't worry about me."

"But you're so pale..." Stella frowned, refusing to be dismissed.

"I'm fine. Be a good girl and listen to me." Roger leaned in until their noses were practically brushing, their breaths tangling in the impossibly small space between them. The heavy, musky scent of him flooded her senses, thick with unspoken tension.

The sudden realization of just how intimately she was straddling him hit her like a freight train. Stella scrambled off his lap, her face burning with a furious heat. "As long as you're okay."

"You should get some rest, Mr. Gates. If you need anything, just call me."

"Alright," Roger nodded.

"Good night." With that, she practically sprinted for the door.

"Stella." Roger's voice cut through the air right before she could yank the door shut. "I manipulated you so I could stay tonight."

Stella froze, turning slowly to look at him.

"I'm sorry." His gaze was ravenous, the suffocating wave of desire in his dark eyes threatening to consume her whole. "I just lost control. I needed to see you."

Stella bit the inside of her cheek, her fingernails digging hard into the palms of her hands.

"Stella, give me a timeline." His obsidian eyes locked onto hers, his voice dropping into a desperate, raw plea. "What is it going to take for you to open up to me?"

He knew she cared for him. He knew she wanted him. So what on earth was holding her back?

In the dream, she confessed everything. She watched the horror contort Roger's face as she bared her scars to him, watched him physically recoil in disgust. Faceless crowds surrounded her, jabbing accusing fingers and screaming obscenities. They called her tainted, screaming that she was a filthy whore completely unworthy of Roger, totally unfit to ever cross the threshold of the Gates family. They spat that she was a delusional, ungrateful parasite—that Charlotte had given her everything, and her only repayment was attempting to drag the Gates name through the mud.

"You shameless slut!"

"You should have died six years ago!"

"After what happened to you, how do you even have the audacity to keep breathing?"

"Disgusting! Hideous!"

The deafening roar of abuse violently jolted Stella awake. She sat bolt upright, her skin slick with a cold sweat, gasping for air. Her eyes dropped to the twisted scars marring her body. She clamped her teeth over her lip, helplessly sobbing into the empty room.

In exactly one week, that nightmare was going to become her permanent reality.