She woke up a few times in the night and he wasn't surprised that she'd had nightmares. He'd woken with her and had whispered to her, telling her that she was safe in his bed and no one was coming for her. It had taken her a while to settle back down, her body only relaxing as he kept stroking her back to calm her. He kept on dozing, but he didn't have a fully restful night. He'd left her in bed when he turned to look at his bedside table and saw that the clock had hit seven. He gently manoeuvred her to lay her head on his absent pillow. He pecked her on the forehead quickly and pulled the quilt up to her shoulder to keep her covered.

He considered getting the plans from his safe, but he didn't want to risk waking her. He didn't need her seeing them either. Instead, he went to the living room, grabbing a sweatshirt to cover his upper body and tugging it over his head. He went to the kitchen and tried to find stuff for breakfast, but his supplies were limited. He knew that he could cook up some eggs and toast. He also imagined that she wouldn't be overly hungry.

Leaving her to sleep for as long as she wanted, he scrolled on his phone, searching for her husband on the browser. He knew all he needed to know about the man. He'd done his digging. But he still looked at the images of him online, seeing his smirking face as he shook hands with royalty or government officials. Elizabeth featured in some of them with him, always dangling off his arm and wearing a smile that never quite reached her eyes. She looked impeccable in the latest designer clothes and gowns that fit her like a glove. He had to admit that she was quite something. It was like an ethereal glow surrounded her whenever she was in the images. She looked untouchable.

Of course, he knew that wasn't the case. She wasn't like that at all. She was strong and independent, but there was also a vulnerability to her that she kept hidden. She didn't show people it unless she trusted them and he didn't think she had many people in her life who she did trust, if anyone. Maybe she trusted him because he was removed from everything. He had no connection to the people in her life and that was clearly an advantage.

He wasn't sure, but he figured that he was getting in too deep. He thought that he was incapable of caring for people. He'd been running the games for a short while. He'd even participated in them. He'd seen the worst of humanity. He'd seen people plead for their life when confronted with death, but they'd been willing to risk their lives. He thought that he lost any ability to care, but then he'd seen his brother and that hadn't been the case. He still cared about people. And then he'd met Elizabeth and it had only emphasised to him that there was still some of the old In-ho left inside of him.

He wasn't entirely sure how he felt about that, though. He guessed that, while he still had some ability to care for people, it was limited and it wouldn't stop him from doing his job, especially not now that he intended to make Elizabeth's husband suffer for what he'd done to her. It turned out that she wanted that too. She wanted him to know pain and he was more than happy to help her, but he wasn't sure what she would think about the games. He suspected she might be appalled. Most people would be. But would she understand? Would she see what he saw? Would she just see a group of people so desperate for money that they'd do anything in their power to get it? It all came down to choice, at the end of the day. The people in the games had a choice. They didn't have to be there.

"Morning."

He was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard her speak. She came out of the bedroom, still in the white shirt he'd given her although it was now askew around her body. Her curls were a mess down her back and her lip was swollen along with the cheek underneath her purple rimmed eye. She headed to where he was sat on the sofa and he put his phone down on the arm of the seat, locking the screen. He held a hand out to her and she took it, curling a leg beneath herself as she sat down beside him on the sofa.

The shirt rode up her thighs slightly and he spotted them then. He saw the bruises on the inside of her thighs and he felt his jaw clench in anger. He tried not to let it show on his face. He didn't want to remind her of what her husband had done. He guessed that she was constantly thinking about it, but he didn't want to bring it up. He kept her hand in his, lifting it upwards to allow him to drape an arm over her shoulders.

"I didn't want to wake you," he told her.

"Thanks," Elizabeth said to him and she laid her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes again. "Do you think there's any chance I could stay here for the night again? I'll book a hotel tomorrow and get some stuff from the apartment-"

"-You don't need to do any of that," he promised her and Elizabeth shook her head.

"I do," she said. "I can't get you involved in any of this, Young-il. I've taken advantage already."

"You think you've taken advantage?" he questioned from her and she scoffed and looked at him. His eyes flickered over her face and he moved his free hand to curl his finger beneath her chin. He tried not to let his eyes linger on her bruises for too long, not wanting to draw attention to the fact he was looking. "You haven't taken advantage, Elizabeth. I was the one who got involved with you because I wanted to. I wanted this and I want you here, do you understand me? You're not going to a hotel…and you're not going back there on your own."

"He won't be there. He'll be gone," Elizabeth protested.

"Not the point," he retorted, holding firm on that. "The point is that I don't trust him and I don't want you to turn up back here with more injuries…or worse…ending up in hospital."

Elizabeth didn't bother to protest any further. In fact, she didn't want to protest anymore. She just nodded her head at him and he felt his lips arch at her giving in. He leaned in and kissed her on the forehead before urging her to lay her head on his shoulder once more. He kept her hand in his, his fingers brushing hers gently and trying to soothe her.

"What you said last night," she said to him. "I just…I told you everything and I know you won't tell him, but what did you mean that there might be another way?"

"I know it all sounds mysterious," he said. "But there's something that I'm working on and if you want him ruined then this will work. I can help…but I do just need you to trust me…trust that I have your best interests in mind because I do, Elizabeth. I want to help you. I just want you to let me."

She was quiet then and he thought that she might argue back with him. He waited for it, but it never came. Instead, she just squeezed his hand inside of her own and nodded her head once.

"You were wrong with what you said yesterday."

His brow arched. "What did I say?" he questioned from her.

"Your mother would think I'm over-confident. I'm not," Elizabeth said to him. "Any shred of confidence I had…it feels like he's ripped it from me and I need to get it back. I just don't know how to."

"In time," he said, chin sitting on the top of her head. "In time, you'll get it back. Believe me."

…

Elizabeth called work and told them that she was sick. She knew it might be a mistake considering the workload she had at that moment in time, but she had to admit that work was the furthest thing from her mind. She wasn't thinking about work. She didn't really care about work. Young-il had let her stay at his apartment for the day. He'd ran her a bath, cooked her breakfast, let her nap on the sofa while the TV played some drama programme. He'd cooked her dinner and had then spent the night letting her sleep again. She slept better than the previous night, only waking to use the bathroom. He'd tended to her injuries again, holding ice to her lip and cheek to try and calm the inflammation.

And then she had told him that she intended to go to the apartment the following day. She'd changed into the clothes she'd come to him in and had looked in the mirror at her appearance. She didn't have her makeup with her so she had no idea what she would look like. He knew that she was fretting over that. He'd been buttoning up a navy-blue shirt as she sat cross-legged on the floor in his bedroom, looking at her reflection in the mirror that was attached to his wardrobe.

"I'll drive," he told her and she met his eye in the mirror as he finished doing the buttons up, leaving the top few undone. He tucked it into his trousers and grabbed a blazer from the wardrobe next to where she sat.

"I didn't know you drove," Elizabeth confessed to him.

"I can, I just choose not to when it's quicker to use the subway," he said. "But I have a car."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure," he told her. "I know you don't want to catch the subway."

"I just don't want people to stare and I know they will," Elizabeth told him and he held a hand down to her. She took hold of it and he hauled her to her feet. She stood in front of him, skirt fanning out around her and down her calves, white shirt tucked into it. He helped her into her coat and grabbed his keys from the sideboard.

Walking down with her to the garage, he kept her hand inside of his. He opened the passenger door for her and she climbed in. He walked to the driver's side and started the ignition, hearing the engine come to life. He drove carefully thought the streets after Elizabeth had tapped the address of her apartment into the navigation system. She kept on looking out of the window, clearly apprehensive. He kept glancing across to her and he moved a hand to her thigh, letting it sit there and squeezing it encouragingly.

Elizabeth didn't look at him, but she did move her hand on top of his and he flipped his palm, letting her grab hold of his fingers inside of hers. He only moved his hand from hers when he pulled into the parking garage underneath the apartment block. Elizabeth gave him the access code and told him where to park before they got out of the car. She took her keys out from the pocket in her skirt. She'd left the apartment with nothing but her purse, keys and phone. Her phone had died from lack of battery and she had hardly any cash in her purse.

Coming to the apartment door, Elizabeth took a deep breath to steel herself. She unlocked the door and stepped into the apartment. It was a mess. The glass that Robert had thrown was still on the floor in small shards. He'd destroyed other things too including vases and decorations. The coffee table was flipped up and cushions from the sofa on the floor. Elizabeth remembered how he'd forced her over the back of the seat and she'd clawed at the pillows.

And then she heard a noise. There wasn't supposed to be anyone home. The apartment was only cleaned three times a week and if it had been the maid, she'd have come to the door as soon as she heard it open. Plus, there wouldn't be the mess in the living room. Young-il closed the door behind him, but Elizabeth was already turning around and moving her hands to his shoulders, trying to get him to turn around and leave.

"You need to go," Elizabeth urged from him. "Young-il, you need to go."

"I'm not going anywhere," he told her firmly.

"You have to," she hissed. "He's here…he's home and if he sees you…please…"

"What's he going to do?" Young-il wondered from her. "He's not going to do anything to you or to me. Trust me."

She couldn't push him out of the door. He wouldn't move or leave her alone. He remained where he was and then it was too late. Robert was already walking into the living room. He was wearing a dark green shirt and skinny trousers, hair flopping into his face. He had bloodshot red eyes and Elizabeth guessed he'd been drinking himself into a stupor, even though she didn't care about him in the slightest. She stood in front of Young-il, almost as though she was trying to defend him in case Robert tried anything. Her husband just looked between her and the man behind her. A dark chuckle left his lips. He reached for a glass of scotch that he'd left half drunk on the piano. He raised it to his wife and then drained it, throwing the glass to the floor.

"I have to admit, I didn't think you had it in you," he said, speaking in English. Young-il could follow along for the most part. "Taking a lover…it's awfully scandalous of you, Elizabeth, sweetie. What will people say if they knew?"

"I'm here to pack some stuff and then I'm going."

"You're not going to deny it?" he pushed her and Elizabeth just shrugged at him.

"What's the point?" she asked. "I met him at a bar over a month ago. He makes me happy. He makes me happier than you ever have."

"He makes you happy?" Robert echoed back and she noticed the vein in his forehead begin to throb. He was angry. "Him? Look at him…he looks pathetic…"

"He's not and he's twice the man you ever will be," Elizabeth said, finding a white-hot rage building inside of her at the way he was talking about Young-il. She just watched him intently and Robert pursed his lips. It was almost like he was too scared to say what he really wanted to in front of Young-il.

"You really think so? Does he know that you're a frigid bitch? That you hardly put out? I mean, I doubt he even knows how to please you in bed…then again…you've never really done anything but fake an orgasm…"

"Don't be so crude," Elizabeth demanded from her husband.

"Well, I think I have a right to be crude when I find out my wife has been running round Seoul like a whore!" he yelled at her and Elizabeth recoiled slightly, but she tried to put a brave face on it instantly. She wasn't going to do this. She wasn't going to get into a shouting match with Robert. "And a whore with a man like him! He doesn't even know, does he? He has no idea who you actually are."

"I know who she is."

Young-il spoke then. He'd spent his time eyeing the man in front of him, but Robert had been transfixed on his wife. He had hardly looked at Young-il or considered him a threat.

"And, believe me, she's never faked an orgasm with me."

Elizabeth felt nervous then. She almost wished he hadn't said anything. She wished that he'd just kept quiet because she knew that things were about to escalate. Robert moved towards the two of them and Elizabeth reached behind her, trying to keep Young-il there, shielding him from her husband. But he was stronger than she was. He took her by the arm and dragged her backwards, pushing her behind his body. Her husband stood in front of him then, chests almost brushing. Elizabeth held onto Young-il's arm, tugging on it and silently pleading with him to back down. But he never backed down from a fight and especially not one against a man like Robert.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" Robert demanded to know from him. "You think you can come into my home with my wife and what? Mock me? Belittle me?"

"Trust me, belittling a man like you takes hardly any effort," Young-il assured him of that point and Elizabeth shook her head at him.

"Don't," she pleaded.

"You want her? You want the washed up whore? Trust me, give it a few weeks and you'll see that she isn't worth this…she's worthless…"

"You're wrong," Young-il told him. "She's the only thing that's give my life any meaning."

Elizabeth was taken back by that declaration. She had no idea that was how he felt. She knew that she wouldn't be able to question him because it was then when her husband lashed out. He balled his hand into a fist and moved it towards Young-il, but the other man easily grabbed his fist before he could hit him. Robert seemed startled by that. He was taller than Young-il, but he clearly wasn't as strong, especially so considering all of the alcohol he'd had. Young-il twisted his wrist behind his back and Robert grunted in pain. He kicked him in the back of his shin and he collapsed to the floor.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Robert hissed.

"Giving you a taste of your own medicine," Young-il said and he kicked him in the back, letting go of his wrist and seeing him collapse to the floor in a heap, coughing from the force of hitting the floor. Young-il pushed his hands through his hair, moving it from his face. "Elizabeth, go and pack a bag," he urged from her.

"But-"

"-Now." He said, voice firm and then he glanced to her, eyes softening. "Please."

Elizabeth went to the bedroom then and Young-il watched as Robert climbed to his feet. He turned to look after his wife and Young-il noticed his gaze. "Don't even think about it," he warned Robert.

"She's not yours."

"No. She is no one's. She is not a possession," he retorted. "And you would do well to remember that. Once she has left, you're not to find her. You're not to go after her or try and bring her back. You're going to divorce her and give her the money that you owe her."

Robert climbed to full height and moved his hands to his hips. "And you think you can tell me what to do?"

"I think I can tell you what to do because if you don't do it then I'll make your life a living hell," he warned him and Robert clenched his hands into fists once more. He came at Young-il again, but Young-il was quicker. He ducked down and punched Robert in the stomach before he could hit him. He knocked him to the ground with another punch to his chest in quick succession. Robert laid on the floor and Young-il peered down over him. "You know, I would quite enjoy the opportunity to keep punching you so please, do get back up."

"Who the hell are you?" Robert asked, hand going to his chest and clinging to it.

"After tonight, I'll be none of your concern…unless you come back for her and then I can be your worst nightmare."

Robert did get back up, but he was on the floor almost instantaneously. Young-il almost wished that Elizabeth would take her time so that it would give him even more time to keep seeing her husband knocked to the ground. But she had packed relatively quickly. She came out of the bedroom with a holdall and a four-wheel large suitcase. She'd just thrown everything she could into the case, remembering things like her hidden cash and laptop. She lugged her things to the living room. Young-il reached for her holdall and took it from her, putting it on his shoulder. Elizabeth looked to her husband as he laid on the floor, grasping his stomach. Before she could think rationally, she kicked him in the stomach once with as much force as she could.

"Rot in hell, you bastard," Elizabeth said and she spat down at him.

"Remember what I said," Young-il warned him. He took Elizabeth's hand with his spare one and she wheeled the suitcase out of the apartment, leaving the door open and her husband behind her.

But Robert wasn't in the business of not getting his way. He'd been humiliated and he'd have his revenge. He'd make sure of that.

…

"You can't just keep living out of that suitcase," Young-il told Elizabeth when he found her in the kitchen making pancakes one morning. She'd been singing along to some song and he'd just watched the back of her. It had been three weeks since she'd left her husband and she'd been staying with Young-il during that time.

She tossed a pancake in the air and it landed back in the frying pan. She was wearing one of his shirts that he had since lost to her considering she always slept in it. He went to the fridge and grabbed the juice, pouring them both a glass. Somehow, her living in his apartment was working. It was strange. He had almost gotten used to finding her things in his apartment. Whether it was her toiletries in the bathroom or her books in the living room. He'd come home one night and found her at the dining table, hunched over files that she'd taken from work. He thought that it was nice, in a way, to have someone when he came back home.

"I'm not going to. I've started looking for an apartment."

Her husband had given her some money back, but it was nowhere near the amount he'd taken from her. But what could she do? She couldn't demand for him to give her the money back. Plus, she had enough to find her own place. Her plan to ruin him had been put on hold for the time being, but she still wanted to do it. She still wanted him to hurt.

"You don't need to," he said to her. "You may as well stay here and save money. If you insist on paying some rent then fine, but you don't need to go. Besides, all your stuff is here…it'd be a hassle to pack it all away."

"You just said that I'm living out my suitcase."

"All your clothes are stuffed into it, yeah, but your toiletries…books…even your hairdryer…that's all in the apartment. All you need to do is hang some clothes up in the wardrobe I don't use," he told her and she slid the pancake onto the plate next to the hob. "You may as well stay."

"I may as well stay? That's not exactly the inviting offer you think it is," she warned him and she turned to pass him the plate. He took hold of it and looked down at the pancake. "And that is a typical, fluffy, American pancake…and yes, I do intend to put enough syrup on it to cause concern for my teeth."

He chuckled at that and shook his head. Since she'd moved in, she'd cooked him all kinds of things from back home. There were dishes she said her aunt used to make and some recipes she'd picked up from France too. He'd cooked for her too, especially when she was working late. She would sometimes get back at around ten p.m. and would collapse onto the sofa. He'd practically have to spoon feed her dinner to make sure she ate.

"I worry about you sometimes," he told her. "But that's not the conversation we're having."

He put the plate on the worktop and grabbed the syrup as she poured batter into the pan again. He drizzled the syrup over the pancake and cut into it. Holding a piece up on his fork, he held it towards her lips. She took it gladly, chewing and then swallowing it down whole.

"No, the conversation we're having is you trying to persuade me to stay here," she said to him.

"I'm just saying that, along with it making financial sense, I'd quite like it if you stayed too," he confessed to her. "You, well, I like having you around."

"I don't want to overstay my welcome," she said and he took a bite of the pancake then. "I mean it, you've done more than enough and I don't want to take advantage, but I…I kind of like coming back here. I feel safe. I haven't had that in a long time."

"And that's why I want you to stay," he said to her and Elizabeth nodded her head, relenting on that one. He quickly kissed her before she flipped her pancake again. They ate their breakfast together at the dining table. He tidied up, putting things into the dishwasher and then turning it on. He had some business to take care of and so he stood behind Elizabeth as she sipped on her juice, hands going to her shoulders.

"I'll be back for dinner," he promised her. "I'll pick something up on the way back. You…stay here…and hang those clothes up in the wardrobe."

Elizabeth smiled at him, turning her head over her shoulder and kissing him tenderly. He stroked her cheek before grabbing his wallet and keys, leaving her alone. Elizabeth carried her glass to the bedroom and headed to her suitcase. She set her glass down on the windowsill and then started unpacking. She hung up the clothes she'd managed to pack, knowing that she'd left far too many behind. She hummed to herself as she kept unpacking. Sliding the suitcase under the bed and out of the way, Elizabeth frowned as she noticed a brown folder there.

Stretching, she managed to pick it up. She sat down on the floor and tossed it onto the bed. Whatever was in it, she wasn't going to snoop. It wasn't in her place. But, something had fallen from it. She bent down to pick the piece of paper up and she glanced over it. She did a double-take when she realised what it was. It was her medical records. It was the hospital report from when she'd broken her rib. She felt her mouth dry out. Why did he have this? How did he have it?

Elizabeth looked to the folder and she took hold of it, pulling it open and feeling a sense of horror take hold of her. She flipped through all of the paperwork and she knew she had to get out.

…

Young-il returned home with dinner in hand. He had been busy smoothing things over with some of the VIPs and was ready for a night at home. Walking into the apartment, it was bathed in darkness. He frowned and hit the light switch.

"Elizabeth?" he called her name.

He left the bag of food on the kitchen counter and walked towards the bathroom. The door was open and she wasn't there. He went to the bedroom and looked around. Her case was gone. Her bedside table was cleared. And then he saw the papers spread around the bed and he shook his head. Rushing towards it, he picked them up. There were photos of her from back when she had been in college and through to when she'd married her husband. Her medical records were there too along with photos of her injuries. He swore that he'd put the folder away, but he couldn't have. Had he been reading it one night and just tossed it under the bed, forgetting about it the next day? He must've done. That was the only thing he could think that he had done.

And she had found them. Elizabeth had found them and she'd ran. Of course she had. This all looked like he'd been stalking her, but that wasn't necessarily true. He hadn't stalked her. He'd just wanted to know more about her and keep her safe. That was all that he had wanted to do. He wished that she saw that. But all she'd seen was a folder of her life. And now he had no idea where she had gone. All he knew was that he had to find her.

...

A/N: Not sure if anyone is reading but would love to know what you think!