The Devil Who Claimed Me

Silence enveloped Mila. She found herself torn in two. As a doctor, she understood how severe his condition could be and how much he needed to be hospitalized. But she couldn’t ignore his words either.

If someone was really after him, he would be in danger the moment he showed up anywhere public.

"Please," he started. "Right now, I can’t trust anyone but you."

That line unsettled her. Mila said nothing, weighing her options.

"You are a doctor," he added. "I know you won’t let me die."

Mila couldn’t reply. She couldn’t make the decision. ’What if his condition worsens?’ she wondered. ’Should I take the risk?’

She raced her mind. Her gaze suddenly dropped to an old scar near his collarbone, and she froze. It seemed like a knife wound. Then she noticed another old injury on his left shoulder. It was a mark of a bullet graze.

Those were not the kind of scar an ordinary man carried.

’Who are you?’ Her hesitation deepened.

"So, what’s your decision?" he asked. "Are you keeping me with you?"

Mila still couldn’t make the decision. She felt in her bones that the danger lurked around him and was afraid she might fall into trouble if she kept him around. But again, he was injured with no recollection of the past. At this vulnerable state, could she really turn her back on him?

"Please. Help me. You won’t abandon me, will you?"

Noticing his helpless look, Mila couldn’t muster the courage to throw him out.

"Fine. Only for a few days."

Relief washed over his face. "Thanks."

"If your condition worsens, you won’t stop me from taking you to the hospital."

The smile on his face was gone for a moment. Then he nodded solemnly. "Agreed."

She cast him a wary glance. ’Until his injuries are healed,’ she told herself. ’Then I’ll ask him to leave. I don’t care if he remembers anything or not."

She closed the first aid box. "You rest in the guest room."

She led him to the room. "I’ll bring some dry clothes for you."

He nodded. As Mila walked away, he looked around, his eyes too sharp for a man who had been barely awake a while ago. He didn’t seem to have any pain in his head. Striding toward the window, he stood behind the curtain and looked outside.

It was still raining heavily. The road seemed quiet. No suspicious activities were noticed.

He let out a sigh; his tense muscles relaxed visibly.

In the next room...

Mila walked into the closet. At the back hand a neatly folded shirt and a pair of trousers she had bought for Ethan. For a second, resentment and hatred resurfaced, twisting her guts. She had planned to throw everything away that reminded her of that cheater. But now, these were useful.

"I think these will fit him."

Clutching the clothes, she stepped out and knocked on the guest room door. It took a moment for him to appear. He stood tall there, his figure imposing, filling the doorframe.

Mila’s breath caught when she saw him only in a towel. His man was definitely injured, but he looked insanely handsome.

Mila found herself staring at him, half-dazed, half-suspicious.

"Are you done staring?"

"Uh..." She looked away, mortified. "Here are some fresh clothes."

She extended the clothes to him.

He took them, but his eyes remained fixed on her face as if measuring her.

"I bought them for my ex-boyfriend," she explained. "Don’t worry. He never wore them. You can keep them."

She offered a tight smile.

For a moment, their eyes met, and Mila couldn’t stop her heart from skipping a beat.

"Thanks." His voice snapped her back to reality.

"Call me if you feel dizzy or nauseated. I’m in the next room."

"Good night," he said and closed the door.

Mila remained standing there, her mouth agape. Then a frown crept up her brow. "Is there something wrong with this man?"

She shook her head, dismissing the thought. "Well...I should also go and rest." She walked back to her room.

The hallway grew quieter again. But the guest room door opened slightly. Through the narrow crack, a pair of sharp eyes followed her retreating figure until she disappeared into her room.

Then the door closed without a sound.

When she lay on the bed, sleep refused to come. She kept recalling the defined lines of his torso, the firmness of his chest beneath her hand, and the hard ridges of his abdomen.

"He is quite handsome," she whispered, pressing her teeth against her lower lip.

The next morning...

Mila woke up early and prepared breakfast. When she was almost done cooking, the door to the guest room opened, and the handsome guy came out.

"Good morning," she greeted him with a smile. "You woke up at the right time. I cooked some congee for you. Come and have it."

She came out of the kitchen with a bowl of steaming congee and put it on the dining table.

"How are you feeling? Any discomfort?"

He rubbed his temples. "Dull headache. And my body hurts a lot." His voice sounded hoarse from sleep and pain.

"Come and eat first. Then I’ll give you some medicine. The superficial injuries will heal in a few days. But for a head injury, you need a proper examination." She paused for a moment, looking at him. "I suggest you go to the hospital. I’ll make sure you remain safe."

He didn’t reply. Instead, he walked over and sat down across from her, taking the bowl of congee. "Thanks for your advice. I’ll listen to you if the pain becomes unbearable."

"Good."

’That won’t be necessary,’ he muttered to himself and started eating the congee. It tasted good, and he found himself taking one spoon after another.

A small smile formed on her lips as she watched him eating with fervor. She went into the kitchen and brought a plate of scrambled eggs she had prepared for herself and a glass of milk.

"Thanks for allowing me to stay here," he said. "And for saving me and taking care of me. I want to repay your favor."

Mila laughed softly as she took her seat. "How are you going to repay? You don’t remember anything. You don’t even know your name."

She started eating, the smile lingering in the corners of her lips.

"I will work for you," he said.

"Work?" She blinked, taken aback.

"I can clean, run errands, and cook." He tried to smile a little. "I can be your driver or a bodyguard. I’ll be useful."

The idea of him standing outside her office as her bodyguard was absurdly amusing. ’The female staff will die of jealousy.’

She laughed again at the thought.

Seeing her smile, he assumed she had agreed. "I won’t give you a chance to complain."

She rolled her eyes sneakily. She didn’t dislike the idea of keeping him around entirely. Maybe she didn’t want to be alone after the recent heartbreak. Maybe she wanted someone’s company who could cheer her up.

"Fine. As long as you are here, you work for me." She pretended to be indifferent, but she smiled inwardly. "But I don’t need a bodyguard.’

"You may need. Who knows?" he mumbled under his breath.

Mila shook her head slightly. "What should I call you? I can’t just say ’Hey, you." She giggled.

He shrugged. "I don’t. You tell me." He glanced at her, curious, waiting for her reply.

"Then..." She ran through her mind, searching for a decent name. "I’ll call you..." She looked at his broad shoulders, the solid frame.

He looked large and powerful.

"I’ll call you Big guy for now."

He almost choked on his saliva. No one had ever called him like that.

"Why that?" he asked, curious.

"You are tall. Heavy. I almost broke my back dragging you here."

For a spilling second, a hint of amusement crossed his eyes. "Is that so?"

"Yes." She drank her milk, not quite meeting his eyes. "Until you remember your name – Big guy it is."

He curled his lips faintly. No one had ever called him like that. And surprisingly, he wasn’t angry. "Alright. I like it."

The way he said that made her heartbeat stumble.

"I am done. I need to go to work."

Mila quickly pushed a box of medicine toward him. "Take the medicine on time. And rest. I’m leaving now."

Grabbing her bag, she hurried away.

As the door closed behind her, the softness in his eyes was gone. He took out his phone from his pocket and called someone.

"She left. You can come up."