The Andrologist's Secret Therapy - Chapter 9: Chapter 9
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My blood turned to ice as Ethan Winston unzipped his pants, his sickening intentions suddenly crystal clear.
He was going to rape me.
"Ethan, have you lost your damn mind? Touch me, and I swear I'll kill you!" I scrambled toward the door, but his grip yanked me back like a ragdoll.
He slammed me onto the bed, his mouth crushing mine as his hands tore at my clothes. I fought like hell, but against his brute strength, I was powerless.
Just as he ripped off my underwear—just as he was about to violate me—the door burst open.
Alexander Roscente stormed in with the police, tackling Ethan to the ground before he could take another breath.
Trembling uncontrollably, I collapsed into Alexander's arms, my tears soaking his shirt. Fear had never gripped me like this before—and for the first time, I hated my job.
Later, at the police station, I gave my statement while Alexander never left my side. Ethan was arrested for attempted rape.
The days that followed were a blur. Even Alexander's presence couldn't shake the numbness. I told Vincent Anderson I was done—no more cases like this.
Vincent understood. He knew about Alexander and me now.
So he helped me "retire" from that line of work.
I thought that was the end of it—me leaving that life behind, Ethan rotting in a cell.
But secrets have a way of surfacing.
Word got out at the hospital about my private sessions with male patients. An investigative committee dragged me in for questioning.
With the truth exposed, I had no defense. The verdict? Fired.
The scandal exploded, even splashing onto Alexander. Thankfully, the hospital director valued him too much to take serious action—though his reputation took a hit.
After all, as his publicly acknowledged girlfriend, my secret "therapy" sessions looked like betrayal.
That night, I tried to break up with him.
I expected him to agree. Instead, he refused, smirking as he reminded me I hadn't fully "cured" him yet.
Then he handed me an offer—a position at a hospital overseas.
"Sophia, come with me," he said, his voice steady. "You once said you wanted to study further. And I've secured a good position too."
Tears burned my eyes. Even now, he hadn't given up on me—he'd planned our escape.
I nodded fiercely.
In the weeks before we left, we barely left the house.
We explored every inch of each other, insatiable, relentless. My hunger matched his stamina perfectly.
And we were hopelessly in love.
Two weeks later, we moved abroad. With specialists' help, Alexander finally overcame his delayed ejaculation.
Our intimacy only deepened.
A year later, we married. Three months after that, I was pregnant with twins.
Alexander's mother even put her career on hold to fly out and take care of me.
Later, I overheard friends mention Ethan—how he'd been dumped after the incident.
One drunken night at a bar, a gay man had taken advantage of him.
I felt nothing. Just rested a hand on my rounded belly and let the past stay where it belonged.
Though, if I'm honest, one thing still nagged at me.
After Alexander's recovery, his libido was even stronger than mine. Even during my pregnancy, he still craved me.
Thankfully, he restrained himself—settling for just my hands and mouth.
A sweet burden, really.
He was going to rape me.
"Ethan, have you lost your damn mind? Touch me, and I swear I'll kill you!" I scrambled toward the door, but his grip yanked me back like a ragdoll.
He slammed me onto the bed, his mouth crushing mine as his hands tore at my clothes. I fought like hell, but against his brute strength, I was powerless.
Just as he ripped off my underwear—just as he was about to violate me—the door burst open.
Alexander Roscente stormed in with the police, tackling Ethan to the ground before he could take another breath.
Trembling uncontrollably, I collapsed into Alexander's arms, my tears soaking his shirt. Fear had never gripped me like this before—and for the first time, I hated my job.
Later, at the police station, I gave my statement while Alexander never left my side. Ethan was arrested for attempted rape.
The days that followed were a blur. Even Alexander's presence couldn't shake the numbness. I told Vincent Anderson I was done—no more cases like this.
Vincent understood. He knew about Alexander and me now.
So he helped me "retire" from that line of work.
I thought that was the end of it—me leaving that life behind, Ethan rotting in a cell.
But secrets have a way of surfacing.
Word got out at the hospital about my private sessions with male patients. An investigative committee dragged me in for questioning.
With the truth exposed, I had no defense. The verdict? Fired.
The scandal exploded, even splashing onto Alexander. Thankfully, the hospital director valued him too much to take serious action—though his reputation took a hit.
After all, as his publicly acknowledged girlfriend, my secret "therapy" sessions looked like betrayal.
That night, I tried to break up with him.
I expected him to agree. Instead, he refused, smirking as he reminded me I hadn't fully "cured" him yet.
Then he handed me an offer—a position at a hospital overseas.
"Sophia, come with me," he said, his voice steady. "You once said you wanted to study further. And I've secured a good position too."
Tears burned my eyes. Even now, he hadn't given up on me—he'd planned our escape.
I nodded fiercely.
In the weeks before we left, we barely left the house.
We explored every inch of each other, insatiable, relentless. My hunger matched his stamina perfectly.
And we were hopelessly in love.
Two weeks later, we moved abroad. With specialists' help, Alexander finally overcame his delayed ejaculation.
Our intimacy only deepened.
A year later, we married. Three months after that, I was pregnant with twins.
Alexander's mother even put her career on hold to fly out and take care of me.
Later, I overheard friends mention Ethan—how he'd been dumped after the incident.
One drunken night at a bar, a gay man had taken advantage of him.
I felt nothing. Just rested a hand on my rounded belly and let the past stay where it belonged.
Though, if I'm honest, one thing still nagged at me.
After Alexander's recovery, his libido was even stronger than mine. Even during my pregnancy, he still craved me.
Thankfully, he restrained himself—settling for just my hands and mouth.
A sweet burden, really.
End of The Andrologist's Secret Therapy Chapter 9. View all chapters or return to The Andrologist's Secret Therapy book page.