The bedroom door closed softly, leaving Ace alone in the hallway.
Inside, Dr. Reed began her examination, her movements gentle and professional. Thaddeus stood by to assist.
When she carefully worked to remove the torn, ruined fabric of Alexandrea's evening gown, Dr. Reed drew in a sharp, audible breath.
Thaddeus's easygoing expression hardened into a grim line.
Alexandrea's back was a roadmap of cruelty.
A network of scars, old and new, crisscrossed the pale skin. Some were thin, silvery-white lines, long healed-the kind left by a belt or a switch. Others were newer, angry pink marks, and a few were freshly scabbed over.
It wasn't just her back. On her arms and the backs of her legs, there were small, perfectly round scars, the unmistakable, puckered tissue of cigarette burns.
"The abrasions and contusions are recent, from today," Dr. Reed said, her voice tight with professional restraint. "But these older injuries... this is the result of long-term, systematic physical abuse. Years of it."
Her clinical diagnosis was delivered with a quiet, simmering fury.
Thaddeus's hands curled into fists at his sides. He now understood the cold rage he had seen in his brother's eyes.
Dr. Reed cleaned and dressed the new wounds, applied a soothing salve, and then gently dressed Alexandrea in a soft, silk nightgown that had been laid out by the staff.
When they emerged from the bedroom, Ace was waiting, his posture rigid. "Report."
Dr. Reed didn't mince words. She described the scars, the burns, the evidence of prolonged torture, her voice never wavering.
With every word, the temperature in the hallway seemed to drop.
By the time she finished, Ace's handsome face was a thundercloud, dark and menacing. The knuckles of the hand in his pocket were white.
"I see," he bit out, the words barely escaping his clenched jaw.
"Thank you, Evelyn. That will be all for tonight."
"She's severely malnourished and needs rest," Dr. Reed added. "I'll leave a list of supplements and topical creams. But her psychological state will require the most attention."
After the doctor had been escorted out, Thaddeus put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Ace... the Terrys aren't people. They're animals."
Ace didn't respond. He just turned, pulling out his phone and dialing Giles again.
The call connected instantly. "Giles. Add something to the investigation."
His voice was lethally calm. "I want all of the Terry family's medical records for the past decade. I want a list of every domestic employee they've ever had, and the reason for their termination."
"I want to know exactly who did this to her." The last words were laced with a chilling, murderous intent.
"And Giles... whatever it takes, whatever it costs, I want Ivette Terry to pay for what she did today."
The fury radiating through the phone was palpable. "Yes, sir," Giles replied without hesitation. "I'll get it done."
Ace ended the call, but the inferno inside him still raged.
He walked back into the bedroom and approached the bed. In the soft glow of the bedside lamp, he could see the faint tracks of tears on her cheeks. Even in sleep, her brow was furrowed, her expression pained, as if she were trapped in a nightmare.
He reached out a hand, intending to smooth the worry from her forehead, but stopped himself, his fingers hovering in the air. He didn't want to startle her.
Instead, he pulled a chair to the side of the bed, sat down, and simply watched over her.
