A/N: You guys probably hate me for the length of this chapter. I hate me for the length of this chapter. But I have been crazy busy with mind-numbingly mundane tasks that are as necessary as they are irritating. My week got away from me. Badly. So this is what I have for you. I promise to do everything possible to keep it from taking so long next time. Sorry again! But thanks for all the love and support along the way!

ANA

It had been five days since Christian had shown up at Ana's apartment. She hadn't seen nor heard from him at all, so she assumed she had gotten her point across when she'd so callously told him to get out.

Late at night, when she was occasionally honest with herself, she admitted that she felt a pang, just a pang of disappointment that she'd had to turn him away. She'd never once been interested in a man other than Scott. But deep down, she knew Christian Grey had sparked something in her that just wasn't extinguishing itself. It was for the best this way, there was no doubt about it. He was a smart, handsome, charismatic man. Even if she was free to do what she wanted, she could never be good enough for a man like Christian Grey. And regardless, she was Scott's. She owed him everything, and he'd been good to her. What was she supposed to do? Throw all that away on a whim, hoping for… what? What did he even want from her? Sex? Was he asking her on a date as a means to an end to get her in bed? What if he eventually wanted… more? The thought was terrifying. She would have no idea what to do. She couldn't be someone's more.

She shook her head at herself. Who was she kidding? If Christian Grey wanted someone for companionship, wanted a girlfriend, an eventual wife- he surely wouldn't come to someone like her for that. He would go for one of the millions of beautiful, smart, captivating women of the world. Not a plain-Jane, uninteresting little personal assistant. What could she even offer a man like Mr. Grey? Nothing special. Her body, sure. That was what she was able to give Scott, too. She could offer her body and her submission. But Christian Grey wasn't a Dom. He didn't want her submission. And at the end of the day, that was the only thing she had to offer.

And at least that one thing was something Scott appreciated. He liked proving over and over how he owned her and it always made her feel… valued. She had value when she was with Scott. He was a smart man. Smart and handsome. Women wanted him, and he wanted her. Wanted her so badly he literally claimed ownership of her. That was something, right? Some might even say that what Scott felt for her, his possessiveness, it was stronger than love. It was so all-consuming that it meant more than what regular people thought about the silliness of 'romantic love'. He'd told her countless stories about things he'd overheard from teens at the high school, the stupid little dramas they'd found themselves in. It was all just childish nonsense. He made her see that. Made her see how what they had was real, what he had to offer was more than awkward make out sessions in the back of some boy's car, better than an awkward grope-fest in someone's kid sister's bedroom at a house party, better than dealing with jealous 'you-didn't-answer-my-text' rants or finding out you were cheated on. He gave her something better than that. Something solid and dependable. She'd never had to deal with all that teenage drama because Scott had come and saved her from all of that. She'd always been completely content with Scott.

Until Christian Grey came along. Now he was causing her trouble, both in her own thoughts and with Scott. Over the previous weekend, Scott had thoroughly used her body for his pleasure while allowing her none. He'd strung her body along for hours, bringing her to the brink of orgasms before snatching them away at the last moment. And when he wasn't denying her pleasure, he was simply inducing pain. Spankings, floggings, prolonged bondage in uncomfortable positions. On Friday he'd fucked her mouth until thick black mascara tears stained from her cheeks down to her jaw and she hadn't been allowed to wash her face until Sunday evening. He'd ejaculated all over her chest on Saturday and made her keep that on her body as well. His show of ownership had been methodical and complete.

Rubbing her hands over her face, she sighed. Because, still, here she was, sitting here thinking of Christian Grey.

X Two Days Later X

"Ana, a week ago, I was out of town and I called you and you didn't answer, claiming to have been in the shower at the time. Do you recall this?"

"Yes, sir," Ana said, dreading this conversation already. If Scott was bringing it up, there was a reason. She'd expected a possible punishment for not answering the phone, but when it hadn't come with his arrival home, she'd dismissed it. Why was he just now concerning himself with it?

"How well would you say I know you Ana?"

"Very well, sir," she said hesitantly, confused by where he was going with this.

"Yes, very well. Better than anyone on Earth, wouldn't you say?"

"Yes, sir. Of course," she agreed.

"Right. So wouldn't it stand to reason that if you did something, said something, or where just somehow off, that I would likely be able to pick up on that? Because I know you so well."

"I—yes, sir," she said.

"That's right. I would. And I did, Ana. Because I know you so well, I saw right through your excuse that you were in the shower when I called. I could tell by your voice, the voice I know so well, that you were not being truthful with me. Either you were omitting something, or you were straight out lying to me that night." Ana swallowed. Hard. Shit.

"I picked up on this right away. I knew the moment the words were out of your mouth that they weren't the full truth. And I almost called you out on it on the spot. But I thought I would give you the benefit of the doubt. I thought maybe you were attempting to deceive me for a reason, or at the very least, you would come to your senses and be truthful after the fact, once the idea that you'd lied to me really had a chance to sink in." His tone had changed now. She could hear the tension, feel the anger brewing in him. "But you didn't. I waited until I came back into town and a saw you in person, and you looked me in the eye and said nothing of your dishonesty." She knew she looked guilty now. She was sure it was written all over her face. There was no use hiding it. Scott obviously could read even the smallest change from her normal demeanor.

"So I did a little digging Ana. I started with your computer, checking the basics- your search history, your emails. But I found nothing suspicious. I checked you phone, and again, nothing." Wait, he'd been in her email and checked her phone? She wasn't aware that he had access to them. Good thing she'd deleted Christian's texts after he left. She felt herself frown at this new information about his reach into her personal belongings.

"I almost thought I was wrong. I was almost sure I had misjudged the situation. But then, I decided to check one last thing. I pulled up your phone bill and crosschecked the time I had called you with the log on your phone. And you know what I found?" She felt her gut twist sharply as her breath caught in her throat.

"Of course you do. I found that a series of text messages were exchanged, nine received by you and seven sent by you, the first of the series having been initiated by a phone number with a Seattle area code. Less than fifteen minutes after the last text was sent by you, I called your phone, and was given an excuse about you being in the shower. But that just seems suspect to me, Anastasia. Very suspect. So I thought to myself, who would you even be texting? Who would have your attention so much that you would ignore a call from me? Looking again, I realized that the number was actually familiar to me. You know me and phone numbers- I'm a walking rolodex. I knew instantly where I knew that number. How could I forget? It belonged to such an important man."

Ana felt herself shaking slightly. Bad. This was so bad.

"Who does the number belong to, Ana?"

"Christian Grey," she said in one quick breath. Scott nodded.

"That's right. And look! You managed a modicum on honesty. Unfortunately for you, it came way too late."

"I'm sorry, sir," she said, her voice pleading already.

But he chuckled. "Oh I'm sure you are. Not nearly as sorry as you're going to be, however."

XxX

"I can't go in with you, you understand, right?" Scott asked as he pulled the car into the Emergency Room parking lot.

"Yes," she managed to speak through the pain radiating from her shoulder. God, it was unbearable. They'd done rope play dozens—no- hundreds of times over the last six years, but this was the first time she'd ever been injured. Tears were streaming down her cheeks from the pain. Every bump the car hit on the drive over caused an excruciating amount of pain to radiate down her arm. It took her breath away.

"I doubt its broken Ana. The pop—it sounded like it dislocated," he said, at least having the good grace to sound slightly guilty.

Yes, they'd done rope and suspension play many countless before, but she wasn't sure she'd ever seen Scott as heated as he'd been in the playroom tonight. For so long now her punishments had been for minor infractions, nothing of the magnitude since that fateful day meeting Christian Grey. And after being warned multiple times about interacting with him only to be caught in a lie about contact with him, she knew to expect an extreme of Scott she'd likely never seen before. And he'd delivered on that expectation in spades.

He'd attached a spreader bar to her ankles, widening it to its max. Then he'd bound her arms straight down her back; a set of thick leather cuffs held her elbows less than an inch apart and duct tape bound her wrists. He made her bend about halfway forward at the hips, then had knotted rope around her wrists and looped it through a carabiner on the ceiling, pulling it taut so her arms stretched up and back at an uncomfortable angle. Since the was leaning forward, the rope was the only thing really keeping her from falling on her face, yet the tightness of how it was pulling her arms back was borderline painful for the joints of her shoulders. They'd done this position once before, and she hadn't liked it at all even then. Scott knew she hated it, which was why they hadn't done it since, and exactly why he had done it tonight. It was part of her punishment for texting Mr. Grey.

He'd been aggressive. After leaving her tied up like that for what felt like (and very well could have been) hours, he'd finally come back to the room. Her body was tense, her muscles tight, exhausted and aching. He'd come in, slowly flipping the handle of a paddle around in his hands. She'd been able to see it even with her eyes downcast. He'd stopped in front of her, using the paddle to lift her chin so he could look her in the eyes. She was so uncomfortable, and she knew her face and eyes were screaming this fact to him. But instead of feeling any pity for her, he's smirked at her discomfort before rounding her body and proceeding to paddle her ass hard- sixteen times- one for each text given and received.

Then he'd fucked her. It was so rough and so hard that she was on her tip toes, her whole body tense, her joints throbbing and her muscles screaming. The whole time he verbally slashed her to pieces for her infractions, for lying, for communicating with another man when she was his, his, his. But she just held fast, her teeth clenched, silently begging for him to finish so it could be over. She didn't think it could get any worse. And just when she was thinking he was almost done, he'd grabbed the rope from where it was secured at the carabiner above them. He'd uncoiled it from its hold and started pulling it tighter. She felt her arms stretching further and further up and back and the ache was torturous.

"Yellow!" she'd groaned. If he went any further…

But he didn't relent, as he should have. He gave the rope a quick, harsh tug, and as the word 'red' fell from her lips, her left shoulder simultaneously let out a resounding POP and her vision flashed bright white as the pain lanced through her left side.

He'd stopped then, but it was too late. The damage was done. Carefully, he'd unbound her, not that it mattered. The pain was so horrendous that each movement was nearer and nearer to making her pass out. When he'd finally undone the rope and the tape and the cuffs, he'd helped her into a pair of sweatpants and one of his button-down dress shirts. The sweatpants chaffed her sore, paddled ass cheeks, but that discomfort paled in comparison to her shoulder. He'd ushered her into the car, and now here they were, pulling up in front of the hospital ER.

"So what are you going to tell them?" he asked, prompting her to recite the excuse he'd come up with while he was dressing her earlier.

"I fell. There was water on the floor. I didn't see it. I slipped and landed on my shoulder," she parroted.

"Good girl," he murmured, placing a brief, uncharacteristic kiss on her forehead. "I'm sorry this happened, Ana," he whispered, catching her baby blues with his emerald greens. She could see it, that he was genuinely sorry that this had happened. She wanted to dismiss it, to comfort him, to tell him it was okay, she knew he didn't mean to hurt her, that it was an accident. But there was a little voice in her head snipping, 'Well then why didn't you stop when I said 'yellow'?' But she instead opted to keep her mouth closed, only nodding once before opening the car door and exiting the vehicle.