She followed him for seven years out of gratitude, feeling lucky to marry him. When his mistress claimed she had cancer and only six months to live, he handed her divorce papers. "It's only for show. We'll remarry in six months." Her heart died. She resolved to make the fake divorce real and restart her life.
=====
"Let's get a divorce. She has stomach cancer and has only six months left to live."
After their in**mate encounter, Brandon Watson sat up and said in a detached voice.
Millie Bennett, still breathing hard from the encounter, turned to him slowly, a wild look of disbelief in her eyes.
They had been married for a year. What did he mean by suddenly saying he wanted a divorce?
"Her final wish is to be my wife," Brandon added, almost offhandedly.
He said, lighting a ci**rette. The sm**e rose in slow spirals around his face.
Millie gawked at him, stunned. Silence spread across the room like mist.
The bedside lamp glowed faintly, casting long shadows across the wall, making them seem farther apart than they were.
Brandon glanced at her and gave a faint frown.
"It's only to comfort her," he explained. "We'll remarry after six months. She won't be here long, Millie."
His voice was steady, almost detached, like someone passing along a message that didn't concern him.
Millie watched Brandon wordlessly, her eyes fixed on his profile.
He spoke like his words were instructions, not suggestions.
Their relationship had always been one-sided. She had chased it from the start, drawn in by youthful affection.
She had stayed by his side for years, moving through each rough season without letting go.
Millie still remembered that day, under the heavy rain that soaked them both, Brandon had stood between her and her stepfather, gripping a cracked stick, and said with fire in his voice, "Touch Millie again, and you'll regret it."
That moment had etched itself into her heart. Even when she was weak and bl**ding, she saw him--unmoving, protective, fierce.
From that point on, she was his.
She loved him without pause, met his requests with everything she had, carrying them out more flawlessly than anyone else ever could.
He would always pat her head, light and warm, and say in a low voice, "You did so well, Millie."
But Brandon's praises never lasted, his ki**es barely stayed, and whatever affection they shared always felt just out of reach. But Millie told herself it was just how he was.
Even when others called her naive, she stayed--devoted and trusting.
She had given seven years of her life to him.
A year earlier, Brandon's grandfather, Derek Watson, had fallen into poor health. The family, hoping to lift his spirits, decided Brandon should marry.
Perhaps the joy of a wedding would give the old man something to hold on to.
So Brandon went on to marry Millie.
She thought it was finally their moment. But after the vows, something changed. He began to pull away. Sometimes, he looked at her like she was a stranger.
"Millie, are you listening?" Brandon scowled as he caught the far-off look in Millie's eyes.
"Does it have to be like this?" she asked softly.
He didn't answer. Instead, he said, "She's going through so much, Millie."
Millie's ch**t tightened. "And what about me?"
Brandon didn't answer right away. His eyes, dark and steady, flickered with a trace of impatience.
Then, after about three seconds, he said, "Millie, she's dying. Maybe you don't know, but she's in love with me. Because we were married, and she didn't want to hurt you, she never let things go too far between us. Even when I tried to make it up to her, she never let me. She's a good person. Please, let her have this. Don't make me think you're being heartless."
His words, spoken so calmly, pierced her more than if he had shouted.
So in Brandon's eyes, a woman in love with a married man, who promised to hold back but never really let go, was a saint.
And a wife who simply wanted to keep her husband to herself was heartless.
Millie stared at his face. The same face she had fallen for--intense eyes, prominent nose, beautiful lips.
When had things started to crumble?
Maybe it was the day the woman showed up.
"Are you sure this is what you want?" Millie asked, steadying herself.
Brandon said nothing, pursing his lips.
Finally, he opened his mouth to respond. "Yes, you--"
"Alright." Millie cut him off before he could finish.
Brandon looked up, clearly surprised. He frowned, studying her closely.
"Millie, you're getting clever," he said, a flicker of irritation in his voice. "You know I need your consent to go through with it. Are you thinking of using it to get under my skin?"
Millie didn't answer. She just stared at the white wall, watching how their shadows stretched.
Brandon put out his ci**rette andsaid no more, pulling on his clothes quickly and storming out.
He didn't stop to consider how she felt. Nor did he pause to acknowledge how humiliating or painful his request was.
He knew she couldn't leave him.
He was utterly sure about that.
The door slammed shut behind him.
And just like that, Millie was alone.
She sat motionless by the bed, staring at the door as if it might open again.
Her phone buzzed beside her.
A message lit up the screen.
She picked up the phone.
It was from a familiar number. "He came to see me again."
The text came with a photo. Brandon's face was captured in the reflection of a glass door, a soft smile playing on his lips, eyes warm in a way Millie had never seen.
She froze. Then, slowly, she scrolled upward through the previous messages. "He said he has feelings for me."
"Rainy nights aren't lonely for me because he's here with me. What about you?"
"The one who isn't loved is truly the other woman. Millie, you were never his first choice; you were just the one he settled for. He sees beauty the way I do, shares my taste in things, and he loves me."
The messages continued that way, proving Brandon's betrayal.
The man who had always treated her with distance these past seven years had apparently mastered tenderness for someone else.
Millie kept scrolling until she reached the very first message. "You should know who I am. Do you like the flowers in your living room today? I sent them. He said they were beautiful."
Of course, Millie knew who it was.
Vivian Simpson, the famous floral designer known for filling her wealthy clients' grand villas and lavish parties with carefully and beautifully arranged blooms.
Millie had shown Brandon the messages before. He'd brushed them off and said there was no proof they were from Vivian.
He had even said maybe Millie sent them herself just to stir trouble. Most of the messages didn't have pictures, and the few that did were vague--taken from afar, hard to pin down.
But not today's. Today's was clear.
Millie thought about showing him the photo. Then her eyes drifted toward the bedside drawer. She reached down and pulled it open.
There it was. The pr**nancy test result she'd gotten earlier that day.
She was pr**nant with Brandon's child. At the worst possible moment.
Her tears fell, soaking the paper and smudging the ink.
But what did it matter anymore? Brandon's heart had been gone for a long time.
Millie wiped her face dry and picked up the lighter he'd left behind. Flames flickered as she held the test result to the fire.
Brandon had no idea that saying yes to the divorce would be the final thing she'd ever do for him.
She had given him back what she owed--not in money, but in seven full years of her life.
She would never love him again.
Chapter 2 Terminate The Pregnancy
The next day, parked just outside the courthouse, Brandon sat in his Maybach, quietly tapping the steering wheel with his left hand.
"Brandon, you and Millie have been married for a year now. Don't you think it's time to start planning for a baby?" An elderly voice drifted from the phone's speaker.
Brandon's face softened, a trace of frustration flickering through, but his patience didn't waver.
"Grandma, we're still young. There's no need to rush. You and Grandpa should focus on staying healthy. He."
"What do you mean by 'There's no need to rush'?" The elderly voice rose in annoyance.
"Your grandfather's condition might have improved, but we're not getting any younger. We don't know how much time we've got left."
"Grandma."
"Don't give me that! I've heard things, Brandon. Whatever's going on, be good to Millie."
Silence fell over the line for a few seconds.
"Brandon, did you hear me?" the elder asked.
Brandon rubbed his forehead in frustration. "I understand, Grandma."
They exchanged a few more words before he ended the call.
Brandon resumed tapping the steering wheel with his fingers, this time slower, more distracted. He stared through the windshield toward the courthouse.
He clenched his jaw. Then, he opened the messaging app on his phone.
His thumb hovered over a familiar profile picture--a simple floral image, tagged "My Love." He skipped past it and opened the thread with Millie.
The last message he'd sent her simply reminded her of the time and place to meet for the divorce.
She still hadn't shown up.
With a scowl, Brandon sent a new message. "Where are you?"
A knock on the window followed almost instantly. He turned to see Millie standing outside, her face a little pale.
She opened the door and slipped into the passenger seat, giving him a blank look.
He hadn't changed out of yesterday's clothes--the same ones she had picked out for him.
Through the years, it had always been her--choosing his ties, picking his cologne, arranging every detail down to the fit of his tailored shirts and suits.
"Why are you late?" Brandon asked.
Millie looked away.
"I'm not late," she said quietly.
She was simply no longer the girl who would always arrive early and wait for him without thinking.
Brandon's fingers stilled against the wheel. His eyes narrowed slightly as he studied her.
Millie looked a little pale, maybe from a sleepless night after he mentioned the divorce last night.
Still, she looked fine.
"My grandma called earlier," Brandon muttered, looking away. "Don't tell them about the divorce. They're too old to handle something like that."
Millie didn't respond right away. Instead, she asked, "What did your grandma say?"
"She wants us to have a baby," Brandon said flatly, a flicker of irritation slipping into his voice.
Silence settled in the car.
After a while, Millie let out a small soft laugh.
Brandon curled his hand into a fist and turned his face to the window.
There were moments when he used to imagine what their child might look like.
He remembered holding her from behind, pressing a hand gently over her belly, whispering, "Millie, when will you give me a baby?"
But it hadn't happened.
Anyway, they could always remarry in six months and start planning for a baby. There would still be enough time.
Vivian, however, only had six months left.
Outside, passers-by came and went.
Then Millie spoke up. "Just once more, Brandon. Are you completely sure you want to go through with the divorce?"
"Having second thoughts?" Brandon barked, looking genuinely upset.
Vivian was still waiting for him at the studio.
After confirming once more, Millie didn't say another word. She reached into her bag, pulled out a document, and handed it to Brandon.
He took it with a frown, flipping through the pages. It was a property division agreement.
"If we're getting divorced," she said, "we should make everything clear. I'll only take what I'm entitled to from the Watson family. And from this moment on, anything either of us earns belongs to us individually."
Then Millie pulled out a pen and placed it beside him.
"If that's okay with you, just sign it."
Brandon's eyes stayed on the document, but his frown deepened as he read.
The agreement was too simple. She really wasn't asking for much. And her signature was already there.
He didn't get it.
What was she trying to do? It was basically just a fake divorce.
Vivian only had six months left. He planned to spend those months by her side. After that, he'd return to Millie--no one else needed to know the divorce ever happened.
To him, Millie had always seemed blindly loyal.
Brandon had never thought of her as someone with pride or boundaries.
There was a time he'd grown bored of her, pushing her into things that chipped away at her pride on purpose.
But Millie never declined.
She'd still return with a soft smile, holding out the results like a trophy. "Brandon, look--I did it. Isn't it great?"
She was a good wife. Meek. Obedient. For seven years, he'd seen it play out over and over.
If it weren't for Vivian, their marriage probably would have gone on like that.
But.
A flash of memory--Vivian, weak and coughing bl**d, still trying to smile--stabbed at his ch**t. The pain was raw and unshakable.
Brandon looked outside the car window again.
Millie's reflection stared back at him--blank, expressionless.
Was this her way of threatening him?
After all, she had once faked messages to frame Vivian.
She hated Vivian.
Chuckling dryly, Brandon picked up the pen and signed his name.
No one could force his hand. Not even her.
There were two copies of the agreement.
Millie calmly took her copy after he signed both.
They both stepped out of the car and headed into the courthouse. Together, they filed for divorce.
Next time they came back here, they would finalize everything and collect the official decree.
Once all the formalities were done, the two of them stepped out of the courthouse together.
The sun was already blazing, and the warmth settled on Millie's skin.
Brandon scanned the people moving about.
It wasn't hard to tell the couples getting married from those getting divorced. Some people chose to have their weddings at the courthouse.
A couple walked by, hand in hand.
The woman's smile triggered something in Brandon. He remembered that same look on Millie's face a year ago, when they first got married.
Brandon glanced over at Millie, but her face was blank.
"I'll keep transferring money to your account during the next six months," he said. "And don't say anything to my grandparents."
He didn't wait for a reply. Just turned and walked off.
Millie stood there quietly, watching his car disappear around the corner.
Her cab arrived not long after.
And then, the two cars went opposite directions.
One turned toward Vivian Floral Design.
The other headed for Crobert Hospital.
Brandon walked into Vivian's studio, where she greeted him with a gentle smile.
He told her, "It's done. She didn't make a scene."
Meanwhile, Millie stepped into the ob-gyn wing and quietly sat opposite the doctor.
The doctor reached over and pulled the curtain
"Millie. are you sure you want to terminate the pr**nancy?" Her best friend and doctor, Alexia Hussain, looked at her with concern.
"You were so determined to have a baby. You even worked so hard to get yourself ready for co**eption."
Millie reached into her bag and placed the divorce filing receipt on the side table.
"Yes," she replied calmly. "Let's terminate it. I don't want it anymore."
Chapter 3 Signs Of Miscarriage
Alexia stared at the filing receipt, surprised.
She and Millie had been close friends for more than ten years, and in all that time, Alexia had seen just how hard Millie loved Brandon.
There was a time Millie could have died for him, and nobody would have questioned it.
They got married a year ago. Alexia had smiled at the wedding, even though something about their pairing felt off.
But still, Millie had gotten what she wanted. That had been enough for Alexia.
Now this.
What had happened?
"I don't love him anymore," Millie said, before Alexia could ask.
She looked over and gave a small, calm smile.
In that smile, Alexia caught a glimpse of the old Millie--the one from before everything collapsed, before grief carved deep lines into her, before her father's death and the fall of the Bennett family changed her.
It brought Alexia a strange sense of calm.
"Brandon doesn't know I'm pr**nant," Millie said calmly. "And before the divorce becomes final, I don't want to take any risks. It's better if he doesn't know."
If either party changed their mind before the divorce was finalized, they could take back the application, and the procedure would no longer go through.
And that was when Alexia knew that Millie wasn't playing around about divorcing Brandon.
After taking it all in, Alexia did what needed to be done: she booked Millie's medical tests and then advised carefully, "Wait a few days before the surgery."
Millie frowned in confusion. "Why?"
"You know your bl**d type--Rh-negative. It's rare. We need time to prepare bl**d, just in case. I've already contacted the bl**d bank. They said it might take a week."
Millie went quiet. The sadness in her eyes was unmistakable.
She had gotten that bl**d type from her father. And now she missed him all over again.
If he were still here.
"Okay." Millie nodded slowly. A smile tugged at her lips, but her eyes turned red.
"You also have early signs of mi**arriage. You need to be careful these next few days," Alexia added, her voice full of concern.
They'd grown up together, and Alexia knew Millie's sadness too well.
She held Millie's hand. "Wait for me. My shift's almost over. I'll go home with you."
Millie nodded, and then went to wait in the hallway.
She looked down at her stomach.
Early signs of mi**arriage.
Did the baby know what she'd decided and want to leave first?
Pursing her lips, Millie walked toward the lab for the tests.
Her phone buzzed. It was a bank notification.
She had opened a new account--one that Brandon wouldn't know about. She was keeping her money cleanly separate before the divorce was finalized.
Every cent she earned from now on would live in that account.
A second message followed. "Payment for composition and lyrics has been completed. Finance has sent the transfer. Kindly confirm."
Before she married Brandon, Millie had worked quietly as an anonymous songwriter.
Music had always been her first love. Back when her father was alive, life had been generous, and she lacked nothing.
As the Bennett family's only daughter, she had the freedom and the means to grow her gift.
The turns her life had taken had taught her things she hadn't known she needed to learn.
Maybe her father never thought that the pastime he once encouraged would one day be the very thing keeping her afloat.
Millie paused, and then typed back, "Money received. Thank you."
The reply came quickly. "It's what you deserve. You've written a lot of hits over the years. Why don't you return? There's a new show coming up. It fits you perfectly. I've sent details to your email. Reserved a contestant slot just for you."
Millie opened her email. A new message sat at the top, inviting her to join a music competition show.
The format was familiar, like others she had seen before, but this one wanted something original.
She typed out a quick reply. "I'll think about it."
Then she set her phone down. A light cramp curled in her lower belly.
She thought of her father again.
The second time today.
Meanwhile, the Internet was buzzing with updates.
#VivianSimpsonStomachCancer
#FloristVivianSimpsonCountdown
#LastSixMonths
The most trending post was a video featuring a reporter summarizing the news about Vivian.
"Sources confirm that the well-known floral designer, Vivian Simpson, has been diagnosed with stomach cancer. She's been given six months to live. But instead of retreating, she's choosing to document her remaining time--she wants to share her life with the world as it winds down."
The video cut to Vivian. She looked at the camera with a sad smile.
"In these last six months, I'll be posting updates about my life. I'm not doing it for attention. I just want to offer some comfort to others going through the same thing. I hope you all stay strong."
Then the reporter came back on screen.
"There have long been whispers about Miss Simpson and Mr. Brandon Watson, CEO of Watson Group. But Mr. Watson is married. It remains to be seen if he'll reconnect with Miss Simpson during her final months."
In the background, Vivian seemed to have heard that part. She stepped forward, stopped beside the reporter, and gently cut in.
She faced the camera.
"I'm not ashamed to say I like Brandon. He's an incredible man," she said. "I'm sure I'm not the only one who feels that way. But I want to make it clear--I'm not going to break up someone's marriage. That's not who I am."
Having said that, she walked off, leaving the reporter behind.
She wove through the small crowd with a smile and climbed into a waiting car.
The foreign caregiver from Flaville passed her a glass of water, hand paused in midair, unsure.
"You look like you want to say something," Vivian said, her voice cold. "Go ahead. The driver's one of ours."
The caregiver leaned in and lowered their voice. "Miss Simpson, your diagnosis. it's a stomach ulcer. Having our facility change that into cancer is already risky. But now you're sharing it with the public online?"
Vivian gave a sharp laugh, startling the caregiver.
"Your facility--is it a licensed medical facility?" she asked.
The caregiver nodded.
"And does it manage my medical record privately?"
The caregiver gave another nod.
"Is that what my medical record says--that I have six months left because of terminal stomach cancer?"
The caregiver hesitated before nodding again.
"Exactly!" Vivian leaned back with a smile. "It's official, then. No one can question it."
"But you don't actually have stomach cancer. What happens later."
"There are two ways out," Vivian said, cutting in. Her voice was sharper now, her eyes harder. "One: I make a miraculous recovery during treatment at your facility or somewhere else, maybe because of all the love I've received. Two: your facility gets blamed for a diagnostic error and months of wrong treatment."
She turned her face fully to the caregiver, looking more intimidating. "Which option do you prefer?"
The caregiver looked panicked but forced out the words. "I'm sorry, Miss Simpson. I understand. You've already thought everything through."
Vivian gave a short, cold smile.
"Where should we go next, Miss Simpson?" the caregiver asked in an attempt to lighten the mood.
Vivian glanced at her phone. "Crobert Hospital."
The caregiver stiffened. "But--"
"Relax. I'm only going in for pain relief with my medical record," Vivian said, and then reached for her phone and sent Brandon a message, telling him to meet her at the hospital later.
Almost instantly, he replied, "Sure."
Meanwhile, Millie stood in the hospital restroom, a steady ache pulling at her lower stomach. In her hand was a tissue, the smear of bl**d clear against the white.
It was an early sign of a mi**arriage.
Chapter 4 She Would Have No Ties With Brandon
As Vivian made her way to Crobert Hospital, the Internet was filled with comments about her diagnosis. Her name appeared across countless threads.
"To be honest, I think Vivian's brave. She's clear about her feelings as well as boundaries. Quite impressive, actually."
"Exactly. A lot of people like Brandon. As long as she's not wrecking his marriage, her feelings are her own business."
"Her older videos and that livestream from Crest Villa gave me a glimpse into rich people's lives. It's sad she won't be around much longer."
"Who's Brandon's wife, though? She should just let him be with Vivian. The girl has only six months left."
"I know her. It's Millie Bennett, a musician. She stopped working after she got married and became a full-time housewife.".
At Crobert Hospital, Millie's phone kept buzzing. Calls and messages came one after another.
Some people acted concerned. Others wanted information. A few tried to mock her. All of it was about Vivian and Brandon.
Millie had read just enough of the headlines to understand what was going on with Vivian's illness.
She didn't click on anything else.
It didn't matter anymore.
Once the divorce was finalized, Brandon would no longer be a part of her life.
She checked the time. When she looked up, she saw Alexia walking toward her.
"How are you feeling?" Alexia asked, concerned. "Any pain?" She saw the strain on Millie's face and, without needing to be asked, reached out to help her rise.
Millie gave a small smile and shook her head.
She had made up her mind. Some things simply had to be faced.
Alexia understood, but she just sighed and helped Millie up. They took the elevator.
The elevator doors soon opened at the ground floor.
The hospital was packed. Even more than usual. Millie noticed a few reporters scattered in the crowd.
"So many people today. Probably another celebrity here for a check-up," Alexia said.
"They always bring this kind of attention." She stopped at once, her face changing. She had seen something and quickly tried to lead Millie in the other direction.
But there was no point. Millie had already spotted them.
Brandon stood tall, striking in a way that drew attention without effort.
The noise and movement around him didn't touch him--his hair perfectly in place, his suit smooth and sharp, like the chaos didn't dare come close.
Vivian stood beside him. She looked small and weak, her face pale, which made her seem even more fragile.
She lost her balance slightly. Brandon stepped in to catch her, shielding her from the cameras and the crowd.
"Don't look," Alexia said quickly, stepping in front of Millie, her tone sharp with anger.
"Alexia, let's go," Millie said, her voice calm. She had made up her mind; Brandon didn't need to know she was there, and she had no interest in crossing paths with him now.
"Why should we go?" Alexia snapped, growing more furious. "You're not divorced yet. He's still your husband. And he's here holding another woman like it's nothing. It's shameless."
Husband.
Millie looked away, sighing.
There was a time she had secretly smiled just thinking about Brandon being her husband.
But not anymore.
"I don't feel well, Alexia. Let's just go," Millie said, changing the topic.
Alexia gave her full attention now and stopped looking in Brandon and Vivian's direction.
They left. Across the lobby, Vivian glanced over. A flicker of pride passed through her face.
"I'm sorry, Brandon. I didn't mean to drag you into this mess," she said, a tinge of remorse in her voice. "I know you hate being in the spotlight."
"It's fine," Brandon replied. "Let's go see the doctor first." His face stayed calm, but something stirred in his thoughts--something brief, hard to name.
They stepped into the consultation room.
Vivian handed over her medical record to the doctor.
The doctor read through it, slowly, and frowned.
"This looks serious," he said.
Vivian gave a faint smile. "I know," she said quietly. Then she took a slow breath. "Please prescribe something strong for the pain."
"In your current condition, I suggest you stay in the hospital and begin treatment," the doctor said. "You should try. There's still a chance we can extend your life."
"What's the point?" Vivian gave a sad smile.
She brushed away the tears building in her eyes, and then said quietly, "I don't want treatment."
Brandon's fingers curled tighter around hers.
She gave a small shake of her head.
"Doctor, I just want to spend the last phase of my life with some dignity," she said. "So, please prescribe some strong painkillers."
The doctor sighed deeply but finally nodded in understanding.
Outside, reporters were taking photos and recording videos without pause before posting them online.
People watching were emotional.
"Good heavens, this is a real person whose life is ending."
"I cry when I'm in mild pain. I can't imagine what late-stage cancer feels like. But she still manages to smile. She's really strong."
"I couldn't hold back tears when she said she wouldn't go through treatment. Only people who've faced serious illness understand this feeling."
Public sympathy for Vivian reached its highest point.
Vivian soon got her medicine, and as she and Brandon walked out of the hospital, Millie was sitting on a bench nearby. She was waiting for Alexia, who had gone to get the car.
Before Millie could respond to what was happening, paparazzi noticed her and rushed over.
The camera flashes came all at once.
Brandon saw her too. He frowned and asked, "What are you doing here?"
Millie stood up, glanced at Brandon, and then at Vivian's hand resting on his arm.
She didn't speak yet. The crowd didn't give her the chance.
"Mrs. Watson, did you come because of what's online? Are you trying to catch them together?"
"What do you think of your husband being out in public with someone else?"
"Mrs. Watson, what are you planning to do about Vivian?"
People quickly decided that Millie had shown up on purpose--to face Vivian directly, to start something.
Even Brandon thought the same.
He looked annoyed.
"Vivian is sick. Didn't you know?" he barked.
Brandon's voice was brimming with menace.
Millie felt like laughing.
So that was what he believed--that she was picking a fight on purpose with someone who was ill.
Brandon really didn't know her.
Seeing Millie didn't answer, the reporters turned to Vivian, asking questions about breaking up someone's marriage.
Brandon looked at Millie again. "Millie!" he called. He wanted her to defend Vivian.
Like always, he expected her to do what he wanted.
But the will to please him was gone.
She was walking away from him--there was no reason left to obey.
Millie placed her right hand over her stomach. The dull ache was still there.
"I came to visit a friend," she said finally.
She didn't want to say more. Her pr**nancy wasn't something she wanted to share--not before the divorce was finalized, not with all eyes on her.
Her reply to his question earlier was simple.
Having answered Brandon, Millie turned to leave.
But the reporters didn't back off. They crowded in around her.
"Mrs. Watson, people online are asking you to step aside and let Mr. Watson be with Vivian. What do you say to that?"
"Vivian doesn't have long. Are you still going to fight her?"
"Mrs. Watson--"
Millie didn't bother responding; she just wanted to get away.
The crowd, thrilled to see the three of them in the same place at last, had no intention of letting it end.
Brandon stood still, saying nothing, and that silence gave someone the boldness to shove Millie with force.
She staggered, her arms moving at once to shield her stomach.
Chapter 5 To Let Go Of The Past
Millie landed hard, her back hitting the ground first.
Cameras flashed wildly, capturing the fall from every angle.
She looked toward Brandon by instinct. But his face gave nothing--just a cold, still stare.
And in that moment, she understood what he wanted her to do, and it stung her heart.
He wanted her to speak for him. To tell the press it was all a misunderstanding. That Vivian was ill, and he had only come out of concern. That it was kindness, not betrayal.
Clutching her belly, Millie lowered her head and let a faint smile slip across her face.
The sky above was clear, and sunlight streamed through gaps in the crowd. But none of it touched her.
She steadied herself and rose slowly.
Then, without looking back, she said calmly, "I feel sorry for Miss Simpson. But that's all."
Someone nearby, unaware, asked, "So, are you friends with her?"
Millie gave a short laugh. "Friends? No. I wouldn't call someone clinging to my husband a friend."
She turned and waved to Alexia, who had just pulled up.
"Millie!" Brandon called after her, his face red with rage.
But she didn't turn around. She stood tall and kept walking.
Alexia got out and moved quickly toward her friend, scoffing as they left, "You'd think they were the married couple confronting the home-wrecker. Absolutely ridiculous."
Vivian's lips parted to respond. "You."
But Alexia cut in before she could say a word. "What? Tell me I'm wrong. If you're planning to use the press to scare me, go ahead. I've got nothing to hide."
Vivian's face turned even paler, looking as if she might faint.
Reporters scrambled, voices rising all at once.
Alexia ushered Millie into the car, not sparing another glance behind them.
"Don't worry," she said. "She's definitely faking it. I've seen enough of these cases to tell in a second."
Millie gave her a small smile. "I'm not worried about her. I'm worried about you. What if this mess affects your job?"
At a red light, Alexia grinned and nudged her. "Don't forget my dad's the hospital director."
Millie raised an eyebrow. "The same dad you swore you'd never speak to again?"
Alexia shrugged. "You never know when a connection comes in handy. Honestly, sometimes I wish all the powerful people out there were my dads."
They both laughed, the tension slowly easing from Millie's face. As the light turned green, the car moved forward again.
"I've got the afternoon free," Alexia said, stretching. "Whatever you need, I'm ready."
Playing along, Millie turned to her with a sly grin. "Great. I need help with something."
"What is it?" Alexia asked curiously.
"Help me move." She grabbed Alexia's wrist. "You can't back out now."
Alexia gr**ned but gave in.
Before long, the two of them arrived at the house Millie had shared with Brandon, along with a team of movers and organizers.
The house had come together quickly after their rushed wedding.
Everything--furniture and layout--had felt temporary at first. But over the year, Millie had made a home out of it, filling it with warmth.
At least, she tried.
Alexia directed the workers while Millie moved quietly around the room, her hands light on every object. On a shelf, she spotted a bottle of Chanel No. 5.
The first gift Brandon ever gave her. He'd brought it back from a business trip.
He came straight to her from the airport.
He had pulled her into his arms. His ki**es were quick, urgent. They had been just like any young couple in love back then.
She opened the bottle and sprayed it once. The scent filled the room.
She remembered how he had ki**ed her lightly after spraying it on her skin.
"Should I pack this too?" Alexia asked, seeing the perfume.
Millie glanced over and shook her head. "Leave it."
She slipped off the wedding ring Brandon had picked without thought, placing it gently on the table.
But as the movers shuffled back and forth through the space, she paused. Then, quietly, she opened a drawer and put both the perfume and the ring inside.
Soon, the house had been cleared of every trace of her. Only that bottle and that ring remained.
Packing up had been tiring, but once the decision was made, it moved quickly.
It was the same with her feelings.
The wind moved softly through her hair as the car headed toward her new place. Behind her, the mansion faded in the rearview mirror.
Sometimes, to move forward, one had to leave parts of oneself behind.
Millie had things to do.
The fall of the Bennett family, the unanswered questions around her father's sudden death--she was going to find the truth.
Her life had always been shaped by what others needed.
Now it was time to live for herself.
She decided to begin with the music show. It would bring in money, and more importantly, might reconnect her with people linked to her father's past.
She pulled out her phone, found the right contact, and typed her message. "I'm joining the music program.".
Vivian was still crying.
Brandon sat beside her, muttering words of comfort. But his thoughts were filled with the image of Millie standing with her back to him, saying those words.
She had known exactly what he wanted her to say. And she had chosen not to.
He had sent her message after message. She hadn't replied any of them.
She had been acting strangely lately.
The change in her was too sharp, too sudden. She was provoking him on purpose.
She had done it when they filed for divorce. And again at the hospital.
Brandon remembered the look in her eyes the night before, when she asked if he truly made up his mind about the divorce.
She had been sad but also calm.
An unexpected fear filled his heart.
"Brandon, don't be angry at Millie," Vivian said through tears. "I know she's upset. After seeing the videos online, she must've come to confront us. And I understand."
She burst into tears. "After all. I'm the one who took something from her. I'm taking six months from your marriage--what's left of it. If she lashes out at me, I deserve it."
As she spoke, she started coughing--hard.
A second later, she spat bl**d into her hand.
"Vivian!" Brandon jumped up, reaching for his phone to call for an ambulance.
As for Millie's sudden change, he brushed it off as moodiness. In his mind, she wouldn't dare walk away.
Vivian reached out and stopped him, still smiling faintly. "It's the cancer. It's late-stage. This happens. Don't worry."
Her caregiver helped her lie back down.
Brandon turned away, already thinking of confronting Millie. As soon as he left the room, Vivian calmly wiped her mouth and pulled out a small bl**d bag hidden in her cheek.
She laughed. "What do you think he'll say to Millie now?" she asked the caregiver. "I'm honestly looking forward to it."
Then she began to go through the news reports excitedly.
The entire online community seemed against Millie.
"Vivian didn't even go for life-saving treatment--she just wanted pain meds. Millie really made a scene for no reason."
"Vivian's dying, and Millie still wants to pick fights?"
"Mr. Watson and Vivian look perfect together. Like a real power couple."
"Millie's fall was so embarrassing. I cringed."
"Millie, just step aside already!"
"Millie, divorce Brandon!"
"Yeah, divorce Brandon!"
"Divorce!"
Vivian chuckled as she read the comments. Then she sent a message to a contact and gave a few instructions.
"Today's move was perfect. Keep the pressure up. Make sure Millie stays where she is--down. Oh, and find out why she went to the hospital today.".
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Para salvar o próprio filho, ele é obrigado a procurar a mulher que um dia descartou, mas não encontra nenhum rastro dela. Até que, em um banquete repleto de poderosos, ela surge deslumbrante, de braços dados com o herdeiro de uma família extremamente influente. Ela já não era mais aquela mulher de coração partido que o amava, e isso o deixou apavorado.
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"Sou mãe agora", após horas de um trabalho de parto exaustivo, meu corpo estava encharcado de suor e cada músculo tremia de puro cansaço.
Deitada na cama do hospital, olhei para os dois pequenos milagres ao meu lado -- meus gêmeos, meu menino e minha menina. O auge da minha vida.
Por um instante tudo pareceu perfeito, mas, como uma sombra fria atravessando a luz, uma inquietação antiga se infiltrou entre a alegria quente e intensa que transbordava em mim.
Apesar do ar-condicionado, o quarto me pareceu sufocante. E então percebi o motivo: ele estava ali.
Meu marido.
Encostado próximo à janela, observava-me com o mesmo olhar impassível de sempre -- uma beleza cruel moldada em pedra. Ombros tensos, maxilar rígido, nenhum traço de ternura ou orgulho.
Eu tinha acabado de trazer ao mundo os nossos filhos, e ele sequer esboçou um sorriso. Nenhuma palavra de carinho. Nem mesmo um "estou orgulhoso de você".
Ah, como eu desejava ouvir isso.
Permaneci em silêncio, esperando que algo, qualquer coisa, quebrasse essa distância insuportável, mas o que veio a seguir me arrancou o fôlego.
Quando ele se aproximou, não foi para me abraçar ou tocar nossos bebês. Em vez disso, ele atirou uma pilha de papéis sobre o meu colo.
"Assine", ele ordenou, sua voz fria e distante.
Demorei alguns segundos para compreender, pois minha mente, entorpecida pela dor e pelo cansaço, se recusava a processar.
Alternando meus olhares entre o rosto dele e os papéis, eu perguntei: "O quê?"
"Os papéis do divórcio", ele respondeu, seco, como se fosse a coisa mais natural do mundo.
Senti o chão desaparecer sob mim, e meu coração se quebrou.
"Rápido", ele acrescentou, arremessando uma caneta em minha direção. Sua impaciência era palpável -- para ele, isso era apenas um incômodo passageiro, não a provação de horas que eu acabara de atravessar.
"O quê." Minha incredulidade era tão grande que eu estava sem ar. O que estava acontecendo? Eu havia acabado de dar à luz os filhos dele, ele não podia estar falando sério.
Um divórcio?
"Eu. eu não entendo. Acabei de dar à luz.", minha voz se quebrou no meio da frase.
"Considere-se com sorte por esses filhos serem mesmo meus! Ordenei que os médicos fizessem o teste de DNA assim que nasceram. Se o resultado fosse outro, eu teria acabado com a sua vida e a do seu am**te", ele disparou.
Ao ouvir essa acusação, meu corpo inteiro se contraiu. Am**te? Por um instante, achei que não tinha ouvido direito. Meu cérebro se recusava a processar as palavras enquanto eu tentava respirar, com o pulso martelando em meus ouvidos.
"Alex, o que. Que am**te?"
Mesmo após ter dedicado minha vida tentando provar meu amor por esse homem, ele ainda achava que estava sendo traído.
"Você não engana ninguém, Raina. Agora, assine", Alexander ordenou enquanto se aproximava.
As lágrimas começaram a escorrer antes que eu percebesse.
"Isso só pode ser uma piada. Eu não sei do que."
"Ah, não comece com o teatro! Todo mundo já sabe o que você fez. Então para de fingir, po**a!", Vanessa, a irmã dele, disse, emergindo das sombras com um sorriso debochado.
Meu corpo ficou paralisado. Eu queria acreditar que era um delírio pós-parto, um pesadelo. Mas tudo era real demais.
"Eu não.", tentei falar, mas ela me interrompeu, atirando um maço de fotografias sobre mim, que se espalharam pela cama e pelo chão, deslizando como lâ**nas.
Ainda dolorida, lutei para me sentar na cama e, com as mãos trêmulas, peguei uma das fotos. Era difícil enxergar através do véu de lágrimas, e eu já não conseguia mais respirar direito. "Alexander, escute."
"Chega! Pare de desperdiçar o meu tempo e assine a porcaria desses papéis, sua va**a!", ele latiu, me impedindo de conseguir focar nas imagens.
O xingamento me atingiu como uma bo**tada. Ele estava chamando a própria esposa de va**a.
De onde vinha isso? O que estava acontecendo?
Nesse momento, era como se mil facas perfurassem meu pe**ito.
Meu Deus, ele estava mesmo falando sério sobre acabar com tudo? Conosco?
O pânico me sufocou, subindo pela garganta, enquanto meu corpo tremia e o quarto girava ao meu redor.
Através das lágrimas, meus olhos vasculharam o rosto de Alexander em busca de qualquer sinal de emoção. Mas não havia compaixão, preocupação, nem amor.
Não havia simplesmente nada.
Tudo o que encontrei foi a frieza impenetrável de suas feições. Talvez eu tivesse amado o homem errado, e essa constatação me rasgou por dentro.
Durante anos, eu me recusei a enxergar o óbvio. A família dele jamais me aceitou -- diziam, sem pudor, que eu não era digna do nome que agora carregava.
Engoli cada in**lto, cada humilhação, acreditando que o amor seria suficiente para vencer o preconceito.
Houve vezes em que sua mãe me ofereceu dinheiro para desaparecer antes mesmo do casamento, mas eu recusei, pois meu amor por ele era sincero, puro, inegociável, e não estava à venda.
Quando a dor das ofensas se tornava insuportável, eu o procurava em busca de amparo, mas ele sempre reagia da mesma forma -- um simples erguer de ombros, uma indiferença que me feria mais do que qualquer palavra.
"Eles são assim mesmo, Raina. Vão se acostumar."
Mas eles nunca se acostumaram. E ele nunca me defendeu.
Nem quando a irmã dele me chamou de interesseira durante o noivado. Nem quando o próprio pai sugeriu que ele anulasse o casamento no nosso primeiro ano juntos.
Ainda assim, permaneci ao lado dele, amando-o mais a cada ofensa e me agarrando à esperança de que um dia ele finalmente me enxergasse, enquanto to**mente aceitava o desprezo, os subornos e as agressões verbais, tentando justificar seu silêncio como apenas o jeito dele de lidar com a família.
Mas agora, enquanto o olhava, entendi o que nunca quis admitir.
A frieza que eu via agora não era algo novo -- era simplesmente o que sempre esteve ali, por baixo da fachada.
Ou talvez ele nunca tivesse sido meu de verdade. Talvez eu apenas tivesse me imposto a ele o tempo todo, acreditando em um amor que só existia de um lado.
E, como uma lâ**na fria, a verdade se cravou em mim: ele nunca me amou. Pelo menos, não da forma como eu o amava.
"Como eu fui id**ta!", murmurei para mim mesma, sentindo a escuridão me cercar, ameaçando me arrastar junto.
A voz de Alexander rompeu o silêncio, áspera e impaciente: "Agora pare de me fazer perder tempo e assine os papéis. Tenho coisas mais importantes a fazer."
Com a voz embargada e tentando encontrar o olhar dele, eu sussurrei: "Alex, por favor, podemos conversar a sós? Isso só pode ser um mal-entendido. Eu. eu te imploro, me escuta."
"Não há nada para conversar. Só voltaremos a nos falar na presença dos nossos advogados. Guarde suas mentiras para eles."
"Alex, você me conhece. Sabe que eu nunca faria uma coisa dessas. Eu sempre amei você, só você. Eu nunca te traí."
Alexander permaneceu impassível, nem sequer me dirigiu um olhar. "Apenas assine os documentos. Acabou."
"Alex.", minha voz falhou, os lábios trêmulos, meu olhar suplicante.
Mas ele apenas me encarou -- seu rosto inexpressivo, os olhos frios, e a alma distante.
"Não me obrigue a repetir", ele disse entre os dentes, com um controle que beirava o desprezo.
Com as lágrimas embaçando minha visão e as mãos trêmulas, mal conseguia segurar o papel enquanto minhas forças me abandonavam, mas, ainda assim, assinei. Que outra escolha eu tinha?
Ao terminar, ergui os olhos para meus gêmeos e, por um instante, o simples fato de tê-los me deu o único resquício de consolo que ainda me restava.
Mas esse alívio durou pouco, pois, a mãe dele, que até então permanecera nas sombras, se aproximou da cama e, com um tom autoritário, ordenou: "Pegue o menino, e vamos embora."
Ao ouvir isso, ergui a cabeça rapidamente. "O quê?"
"Leia os documentos. Você abriu mão dos seus direitos parentais sobre o meu filho", Alexander explicou friamente.
Sentindo o sa**ue gelar em minhas veias, eu tentei argumentar: "Alex, não. Ele é só um bebê, você não pode tirá-lo de mim! Não pode!"
"Ele é o meu herdeiro!", ele grunhiu, cerrando os dentes.
Então, inclinando-se, ele continuou, sua voz destilando veneno: "Quanto à menina. pode ficar com ela. Considere isso um favor. Eu poderia levar os dois, mas assim não preciso me preocupar que ela se torne uma va**a como a mãe."
No mesmo instante, engasguei, o choque me empurrando para trás. "Alex! Como pode dizer isso da nossa filha. e de mim?!"
"Ela é sua filha. E, de agora em diante, apenas sua. O médico disse que ela nasceu doente e talvez não sobreviva, não preciso de um peso morto. Especialmente um que pode acabar como você."
Então ele se virou, indiferente, e saiu levando nosso filho nos braços, e metade de mim junto.
Fraca demais para me erguer, gritei o nome dele, minha voz se quebrando em desespero. "Alex! Alex, por favor! Alex, não o leve! Por favor!"
Mas ele sequer olhou para trás.
Desabei sobre a cama, abraçando minha filha com as últimas forças que me restavam, enquanto meu corpo tremia em soluços incontroláveis e a dor se instalava em mim como uma ferida aberta que jamais cicatrizaria.
Rejeitada, humilhada e abandonada, eu estava à deriva, perdida em meio à minha própria ruína.
A solidão era absoluta -- e o desamparo, total.
Capítulo 2 Perspectiva de Alexander: Vamos em frente
A exaustão me consumia, corroendo cada fragmento de mim como fogo lento.
Cinco anos de agonia, intermináveis e pesados, me perseguiam como sombras insistentes. Não importava o quanto eu trabalhasse, ou quantas distrações buscasse, o tormento continuava a me engolir.
Os papéis do divórcio estavam assinados e arquivados, encerrando a última vez que a vi, mas sua ausência continuava a arder em mim como uma ferida aberta, pulsante e indomável.
Porém, eu não sentia falta dela, pelo menos não como um homem sente falta de sua mulher. Po**a, eu nem a amava mais.
O que eu queria -- ou melhor, precisava -- era saber que ela estava por aí, criando nossa filha sozinha, sofrendo, sem um centavo.
Essa seria minha única satisfação em meio ao caos. Mas, em vez disso, só havia silêncio. Um silêncio que me enlouquecia.
Nesse momento, meu celular tocou, arrancando-me dos meus pensamentos sombrios.
Era Silas, o investigador particular que eu havia contratado há anos, e a quem já tinha despejado uma fortuna. Nos últimos três anos, ele prometia respostas, mas tudo que eu recebia eram portas fechadas.
Atendi, já esperando o pior, mas ainda assim me preparei para o impacto. "Diga que você encontrou algo."
Houve uma pausa, uma hesitação que dizia tudo. Dr**a.
"Nada. Sinto muito. É estranho, Alex… é quase como se ela tivesse desaparecido da face da Terra."
Engoli em seco, tentando conter a frustração que subia pela garganta. "Então talvez você não se importe de se juntar a ela."
Eu sabia que estava passando dos limites, dominado pelo desespero.
Silas suspirou, cansado, mas acostumado aos meus surtos. "Sinto muito, Alex. Revirei cada pista. Ela simplesmente desapareceu. Nenhum rastro dela ou da criança. É como se."
Frustrado, eu o interrompi enquanto batia com o punho na mesa, mas a dor aguda que explodiu na minha mão foi mínima diante da fúria que me consumia.
"Como se tivesse evaporado?! Se você mencionar essa be**eira mais uma vez, eu juro que…"
"Alex, eu verifiquei todos os registros. Ela apagou os rastros meticulosamente. Talvez tenha tido ajuda. Continuarei investigando, mas talvez você deva considerar outras opções, como engr**idar outra mulher."
"Não!", cortei com o maxilar travado. Em seguida, fechei os olhos e apertei o celular como se pudesse esmagá-lo, respirando fundo para não explodir.
"Não sabia que você era tão incompetente. Quão difícil pode ser encontrar uma mulher com uma criança? Tem que haver alguma coisa! Encontre-a! Eu não te pago para me dizer o que fazer, ca**lho! Faça o seu trabalho! Não importa o que seja preciso, apenas encontre ela!"
Após dizer isso, encerrei a ligação e a raiva transbordou, ocupando o espaço onde meu coração deveria estar.
Como era possível que, em cinco anos, eu não tivesse encontrado nenhum vestígio dela? Parecia que ela tinha se apagado do mapa, e eu odiava que tivesse tido a última palavra.
Enquanto isso, eu permanecia aprisionado em uma dor constante no pe**o, com um filho à beira da morte, e sem nenhum sinal da única pessoa que poderia ajudá-lo.
Não deveria ser assim. Ela deveria estar por aí, sofrendo -- Deus sabe que ela merecia.
E eu? Eu merecia o prazer cruel de assistir a tudo, de vê-la pagar pelo que fez com nossa família. Eu odiava que o controle estivesse novamente nas mãos dela.
Liam precisava de um irmão, um doador. E apenas ela podia fornecer isso. Cerrei os punhos. Eu não queria gerar outro filho apenas para salvar o primeiro.
Como eu olharia para essa criança? Como lhe diria que ele existia apenas por uma razão utilitária?
Po**a!
Fui direto para o hospital, onde o cheiro de antisséptico, familiar e nauseante, impregnava o ar e me revirava o estômago. Essa era minha rotina há três anos.
Ao me aproximar do quarto de Liam, ouvi vozes elevadas. Minha mãe e Eliza, minha noiva, discutindo novamente.
"Não vou desperdiçar meus dias cuidando de uma criança em coma, Vivian! Eu não sou a mãe dele! Já disse isso centenas de vezes! Se você quer que eu assuma esse papel, então diga ao seu filho que ele deve se casar logo!"
A voz estridente de Eliza me irritou imediatamente. Eu estava cansado de ouvi-la.
Minha mãe, sempre tão firme, respondeu sem perder a compostura: "Você sabia no que estava se metendo ao aceitar esse noivado! A forma como trata Liam agora mostra como agirá quando."
Ignorei a discussão e passei por elas com o maxilar tenso, sem o menor humor para isso.
"Você não pode continuar ignorando isso, Alex! Estamos noivos há três anos! Acha mesmo que esperar que Liam se recupere vai mudar alguma coisa?", Eliza gritou atrás de mim ao me ver passar.
Parei e me virei, a encarando. Meus olhos se cravaram nos dela com intensidade, e minha postura silenciosa falou mais do que palavras.
Ela pareceu compreender a mensagem, e o desafio em sua expressão cedeu lugar a um apelo.
"Alex, por favor."
"Alexander, para você", eu a cortei com voz gélida. Apenas pessoas importantes para mim tinham o direito de me chamar assim.
Para ela, soava apenas como uma imitação forçada da intimidade que eu tive com a única mulher que ousou me chamar assim, uma intimidade que terminou em mentira.
"Você sabe que está usando Liam como desculpa para evitar o casamento", ela disse após se acalmar um pouco.
"Cuidado com o que diz. Se é assim que se sente, talvez seja hora de ir embora. Você não é obrigada a ficar", eu respondi friamente.
A verdade era que eu não a amava, nunca amei. Eliza era conveniente: bonita, rica por mérito próprio, disposta a assumir o papel de noiva devotada. Mas amor? Isso não fazia parte da equação.
Eliza bufou, cruzando os braços sobre o pe**o em um gesto de autoconforto. "Não vou a lugar nenhum, Alexander, mas você não pode continuar fugindo dessa situação."
Eu não respondi, pois era inútil. Isso não era uma fuga, o casamento simplesmente não era importante para mim. Liam era tudo o que importava.
Ignorando as duas mulheres, entrei no quarto, onde o médico estava ao lado da cama de Liam.
Meu filho parecia minúsculo, frágil, cada fio de vida preso às máquinas que apitavam incessantemente, e ver isso me dilacerava por dentro.
"Como ele está?", perguntei, sabendo a resposta, mas precisando ouvir.
O médico suspirou, folheando o prontuário enquanto respondia: "A condição dele piorou, senhor Sullivan. Precisamos considerar os próximos passos. Sem um doador compatível, o prognóstico não é favorável."
Cerrei os punhos, tentando manter a compostura. "E quanto à opção de um doador fetal?"
"Ainda é a melhor chance que temos sem a presença da mãe dele. Ela poderia ter sido a salvação dele. Se decidir seguir com essa opção, podemos iniciar os preparativos."
Olhei para o rosto pálido de Liam, para os apitos constantes das máquinas, e meu pe**o se apertou.
Trazer outra criança ao mundo apenas por isso parecia absurdo, mas se significasse salvar Liam -- considerando que não conseguia encontrar aquela mulher -- então que assim fosse.
Com a decisão tomada, acenei com a cabeça. "Vamos em frente."
Ao sair do quarto, minha determinação se solidificou.
Parei diante da minha mãe e de Eliza e, com expressão impassível, anunciei: "Podem dar continuidade aos preparativos do casamento. Estou pronto."
Eliza teria o que tanto de**java: o casamento e um filho. Mas eu só estava fazendo isso por Liam. Eu faria o que fosse necessário para salvar meu filho, mesmo que isso significasse unir minha vida a uma mulher que eu jamais amei de verdade.
Capítulo 3 Perspectiva de Alexander: Tudo o que eu nunca soube valorizar
Ver Eliza tão radiante me revirava o estômago. Era previsível que ela estivesse nas nuvens, tratando nosso noivado como a realização de um sonho, mas isso não tornava a cena menos irritante.
Eu não queria essa união -- nem agora, nem nunca --, mas ela era cega demais para perceber a verdade, ou talvez apenas escolhesse ignorá-la. Para ela, isso era o início de um conto de fadas. Para mim, era um fardo.
Uma farsa que eu era obrigado a encenar.
Eu não me casava por amor, mas por dever -- uma obrigação que me sufocava a cada respiração.
Ao sentir o celular vibrando em meu bolso, pedi licença e me afastei das duas, que, embora quase tivessem se engalfinhado minutos antes, já voltavam a conversar animadamente, fingindo harmonia com uma hipocrisia que me enojava.
Era minha assistente, lembrando-me do Gala Beneficente do Baile Dourado, evento que eu havia esquecido completamente, perdido no caos da minha própria vida. Me**a.
"Certo, obrigado. Estarei lá", respondi antes de encerrar a ligação.
Voltei-me para as duas e anunciei, em tom seco: "Espero que não tenham se esquecido do Gala esta noite. É hora de se prepararem."
Sem esperar resposta, deixei o hospital e segui direto para o carro.
Eliza soltou um gritinho eufórico -- um som agudo e irritante que me perseguiu até o lado de fora, enquanto ela provavelmente já se imaginava contando a todos que havíamos marcado a data, como se fosse a maior conquista de sua vida, a prova de que finalmente havia me "domado". Balancei a cabeça, exasperado, e entrei no carro.
A viagem foi silenciosa, e o breve sossego me trouxe alívio. Eliza, grudada no celular, devia estar comprando mais um vestido luxuoso de que não precisava, pois acreditava, piamente, que felicidade podia ser comprada.
No banco de trás, minha irmã mais nova, Vanessa, retocava a maquiagem em sua eterna busca por uma perfeição que eu achava tola, mas, de certo modo, compreendia.
"Animada para o baile?", perguntei, apenas para quebrar o silêncio.
Lançando-me um olhar divertido, ela respondeu: "Ah, bastante! Quem sabe eu não encontre meu futuro marido esta noite? Você sabe, Alexander, esse baile é para a elite, para o um por cento. O tipo de lugar que uma arrivista como Raina jamais sonharia em pisar."
O nome dela me atingiu como uma lâ**na, e eu trinquei o maxilar, mas permaneci em silêncio. A mesma irritação queimou sob minha pele -- um fogo que nunca se apagava.
Por mais que eu tentasse afastá-la dos meus pensamentos, Raina sempre voltava, como uma sombra que se recusava a desaparecer.
O ódio da minha família por ela era quase palpável. Eles haviam transformado Raina na vilã de uma novela particular, e faziam questão de me lembrar disso a cada oportunidade -- como se eu precisasse de um lembrete, como se a dor que ela me causara já não bastasse.
O que teria acontecido com ela? Para onde foi depois do divórcio? Estaria viva? Sofrendo, lutando para sobreviver -- como merecia? Ou, pior, teria encontrado a felicidade que eu nunca lhe dei?
E a criança. O nome me escapava, mas a lembrança ainda ardia. Será que ainda estava doente? Teria os traços da mãe? Ou herdara o que eu mais desprezava -- um lembrete constante do meu fracasso?
Suspirei.
Nunca a defendi, e não seria agora que o faria, não quando tinha tanto a perder e minha própria sobrevivência dependia de manter as aparências -- algo que eu sabia melhor do que ninguém.
---
Quando chegamos em casa, Eliza me seguiu até o quarto, tagarelando sem parar sobre o baile, em uma euforia que beirava o insuportável.
Fazia semanas que ela não usava o anel de noivado -- um protesto mudo contra minha frieza --, mas, esta noite, certamente o exibiria como um troféu, como se o diamante pudesse consertar o que já estava irremediavelmente quebrado entre nós.
Tentei ignorar sua voz, que soava como um zumbido distante. Eu só queria paz, mas ela nunca percebia quando era hora de se calar.
Respirei fundo e empurrei os pensamentos sobre o casamento para longe.
Não podia me dar ao luxo de ser assombrado por isso agora, pois tinha prioridades mais urgentes -- como garantir a parceria com a família Graham, o clã mais poderoso de Nova York.
Durante anos, tentei me infiltrar em seu círculo, conquistar a confiança necessária para fechar um acordo que mudaria tudo.
Mas sempre que eu me aproximava, algo acontecia: reuniões canceladas, desculpas vagas, portas que se fechavam. Ainda assim, eu sentia que, desta vez, seria diferente.
O Projeto Vince seria meu bilhete dourado. Eu havia sacrificado muito por ele -- e esta noite provaria que valera a pena.
Eu podia sentir.
~~~~~
O Baile Dourado era exatamente como eu imaginara -- luxuoso, deslumbrante e sufocante, com o salão cintilando sob lustres imensos e mulheres desfilando em vestidos que custavam o salário de um homem comum por ano -- o cenário dos sonhos para Eliza, mas o meu inferno particular.
Ela se agarrava ao meu braço com força, as unhas cravadas em minha pele, posando para as câmeras com aquele sorriso ensaiado enquanto eu fazia o mesmo, mantendo a máscara no lugar, e cada flash era uma lembrança cruel de que eu vivia uma mentira cuidadosamente polida.
A risada dela, aguda e falsa, ecoava pelos salões. "O casal mais glamoroso de Nova York", diziam os fotógrafos.
Eu apenas sustentava o sorriso, engolindo a raiva e o nojo com um gole de ch**panhe.
Então começaram os sussurros, discretos no início, mas crescendo em murmúrios ansiosos à medida que o anúncio da chegada dos Graham se espalhava pelo salão.
Senti o pulso acelerar quando o mestre de cerimônias anunciou, em voz solene, que a família Graham acabava de chegar.
Vanessa e minha mãe surgiram ao meu lado, excitadas como adolescentes.
"Ouviu isso? A filha perdida dos Graham foi encontrada, Alexander! Será que ela está aqui esta noite?", Vanessa sussurrou com os olhos brilhando.
Claro que era isso que a empolgava, e não sua caça habitual a algum solteiro cobiçado.
Reprimi a vontade de revirar os olhos, pois Vanessa ainda não tinha percebido que mirar em Dominic Graham era uma causa perdida.
Não que fosse meu papel apontar seu delírio, mas, para meu alívio, parecia que finalmente havia caído na real.
Acenei com a cabeça de forma distraída, prestando pouca atenção ao que ela e minha mãe diziam, enquanto Vanessa já sonhava em se aproximar da tal herdeira, certa de que uma amizade com os Graham representaria o auge -- a consagração definitiva do status da nossa família.
Mas, quando os murmúrios ao redor se intensificaram, olhei para a entrada e vi Dominic Graham entrar no salão com a imponência de quem nasceu para comandar.
Mas não foi ele quem me tirou o ar. Foi a mulher a seu lado, caminhando com graça, a mão repousando em seu braço e a postura impecável. Um reflexo distante da mulher que um dia esteve ao meu lado, frágil e vulnerável.
Raina.
Não podia ser.
Ela estava diferente. Não apenas mais bonita -- estava. plena, radiante, intocável --, e a constatação me atingiu como um golpe.
Minha ex-esposa.
A mulher que eu fingia não procurar, mas que secretamente rastreava há anos e que, mesmo desaparecida, ainda me assombrava.
Ela não havia simplesmente sumido. Ressurgia ali, entre os Graham -- e não com qualquer um deles, mas com Dominic, o herdeiro do império.
Há quanto tempo ela estava com ele? O que fazia ali?
E por que parecia pertencer àquele lugar, como se tivesse nascido para ele?
As perguntas se atropelaram em minha mente. Raina se movia pelo salão com uma naturalidade insolente, como se cada olhar de admiração fosse seu por direito.
A raiva subiu em mim como veneno. Não podia ser assim.
Eu havia passado anos alimentando a imagem de sua ruína -- sozinha, desamparada, criando aquela criança em meio à miséria -- acreditando que esse era o castigo que ela merecia.
Mas não.
Lá estava ela, vestida com luxo, linda, serena -- de braços dados com o herdeiro do império Graham.
Sua beleza era uma afronta, uma provocação, e eu a odiei por isso -- por ter ousado ser feliz sem mim e se tornado tudo o que eu nunca soube valorizar.
Capítulo 4 Perspectiva de Raina: Encarando o mundo
Eu finalmente estava pronta para encarar o mundo. Ou, pelo menos, era o que eu repetia para mim mesma enquanto, sentada no banco de trás do carro do meu irmão, sentia a ansiedade corroer meu estômago e diluir cada vestígio da minha determinação.
Percebendo minha inquietação, Dominic apertou minha mão e disse: "Ei, vai dar tudo certo!"
Mas será que daria? A pergunta ecoou dentro de mim, abafando até mesmo a melodia suave que preenchia o carro.
Eu deveria me sentir confiante, mas o medo era uma fera faminta, rasgando meu pe**o por dentro, pronta para me devorar sem piedade.
Passei semanas me preparando para este momento, convencida de que seria capaz de enfrentar o passado e encarar meus ex-sogros de cabeça erguida.
Contudo, agora que estava prestes a dar o primeiro passo, todas as certezas que construí pareciam se desfazer como areia escorrendo entre os dedos.
Então, a lembrança do meu filho me atingiu -- e essa era a dor mais insuportável de todas. Perguntei-me como Liam estaria -- será que ele sentia minha falta? Ou já o teriam ensinado a me odiar por tê-lo deixado?
A simples ideia de que tivessem envenenado sua mente contra mim era como uma lâ**na cravada fundo no pe**o.
Imaginei mil maneiras de dizer a ele que eu nunca quis abandoná-lo -- que minha partida não fora uma escolha, mas uma imposição cruel.
Quando o carro parou, agarrei minha bolsa com força e respirei fundo. Já era tarde demais para recuar. Eu havia feito minha escolha, e agora precisava ir até o fim.
Assim que desci, uma tempestade de flashes me cegou por um instante.
Os repórteres o cercaram de imediato, disparando perguntas, mas eu permaneci à sombra de Dominic -- invisível, como havia planejado, até o momento certo de ser vista.
Pedi a ele que mantivesse minha identidade em sigilo até que eu reencontrasse meu filho, somente então eu estaria pronta para que o mundo soubesse quem eu era.
Dominic sorriu para as câmeras, mas esse sorriso era apenas uma máscara -- a mesma que ele exibia quando precisava mostrar força.
Ele não respondeu a nenhuma pergunta e, juntos, atravessamos as portas do salão imponente, onde burburinho cessou de imediato.
Eu quase podia ouvir os pensamentos não ditos, sentir o julgamento pairando no ambiente. "Interesseira, arrivista, intrusa."
Um arrepio percorreu minha espinha quando vi meus ex-sogros à distância, observando-me com olhares cortantes, tão frios quanto lâminas afiadas.
Não demorou para que as pessoas se aproximassem de Dominic, atraídas por ele como mariposas pela luz, em uma mistura de respeito e temor.
Eu sabia que ele não estava ali apenas por mim, este evento era mais um de seus rituais de negócios, um desfile elegante em que cada gesto carregava estratégia.
Afastei-me discretamente, buscando um pouco de ar longe daquelas atenções sufocantes. Encontrei refúgio junto ao bar, cercada pelo brilho das taças de cristal.
Mas antes que pudesse tocar em uma delas, uma voz cortante rasgou o ar como um trovão.
"Raina!"
Virei-me e vi Vanessa avançando em minha direção, seu rosto distorcido por uma expressão de puro desprezo.
Antes que eu pudesse reagir, ela arrancou a taça da minha mão e despejou o vi**o sobre o meu vestido claro.
O líquido gelado se espalhou pelo tecido, escorrendo como sa**ue, e um murmúrio coletivo percorreu o salão -- mistura de choque, curiosidade e um prazer cruel mal disfarçado.
"Olha só para você, tentando se**zir um homem como Dominic. Você nunca muda, não é, Raina?! Seus hábitos de pr**tituta continuam os mesmos. Ainda bem que meu irmão se livrou de você", ela zombou, com um sorriso venenoso.
Endireitei a postura, erguendo o queixo em um esforço para não ceder ao impulso de fugir -- nem ao de**jo ainda mais forte de fazê-la engolir cada palavra.
Minha voz quase saiu, mas o som morreu na garganta quando uma presença conhecida surgiu à minha frente.
Alexander.
Sua frieza me atingiu como um golpe enquanto ele me observava dos pés à cabeça, detendo o olhar na mancha úmida que escurecia o tecido do meu vestido. Seu semblante continuava impenetrável, a mesma máscara de indiferença de sempre.
No entanto, por um breve instante, algo diferente brilhou em seus olhos -- um lampejo que parecia. preocupação? Mas foi tão rápido quanto um piscar, e logo desapareceu, substituído pelo velho desprezo.
"Vanessa, chega! Este não é o lugar para isso." Ele a segurou pelo braço, firme, obrigando-a a recuar.
Vanessa bufou, os olhos cravados em mim, o sorriso ainda estampado nos lábios.
"Você não pertence a este mundo, Raina", ela sibilou, antes de se desvencilhar dele com um puxão seco.
Eles haviam despedaçado a minha vida. Mas eu não lhes daria o prazer de me ver desabar.
Estava prestes a me afastar quando Dominic reapareceu ao meu lado, o olhar endurecido pela cena.
"E quem é você para dizer que minha acompanhante não pertence a este lugar? Venha, vamos cuidar disso", ele disse, conduzindo-me ao lavabo.
No banheiro, apoiei-me na pia de mármore frio, tentando recuperar o fôlego enquanto o reflexo no espelho me devolvia a imagem de uma mulher que mal reconheci -- alguém vestida de medo e determinação.
O que eu estava fazendo ali? O peso das minhas decisões parecia me esmagar o pe**o.
Nesse momento, uma mulher entrou, segurando um vestido vermelho deslumbrante. "Dominic me enviou. Disse que talvez a senhora preferisse algo um pouco mais. vibrante."
Peguei o vestido, sentindo a maciez do tecido deslizar por entre meus dedos e murmurei: "Obrigada."
Quando me olhei novamente no espelho, o reflexo parecia outro. O vermelho vibrante contrastava com minha pele e acendia algo dentro de mim -- uma centelha esquecida.
Pela primeira vez em muito tempo, me senti viva. Eu podia fazer isso, enfrentar todos eles, até mesmo ele.
Saí do lavabo e o procurei com o olhar, o encontrando do outro lado do salão, cercado por potenciais parceiros de negócios.
Ele parecia bem, confiante, sereno, enquanto eu, mesmo vestida de vermelho, me sentia uma farsa.
O som das conversas e risadas soava distante, abafado, como se eu estivesse presa dentro de uma bolha. Como todos podiam parecer tão tranquilos enquanto eu lutava para respirar?
No canto do salão, um pequeno grupo admirava as pinturas de um artista. A beleza das telas me of**eceu uma breve trégua, um refúgio efêmero da tormenta que me consumia.
Mas a calmaria durou pouco. Quando meus olhos voltaram a buscá-lo, ele já me observava à distância, com o mesmo olhar frio, cortante, e inabalável.
Meu coração disparou, e uma guerra silenciosa começou dentro de mim: enfrentá-lo ou fugir?
Ele começou a se aproximar, passo a passo, seus olhos fixos nos meus e, por instinto, ergui minhas defesas. Eu precisava parecer firme, mesmo que estivesse em ruínas por dentro.
O olhar dele era um veredito -- eu ainda não estava pronta. O salão pareceu encolher, o ar entre nós se tornou denso, pesado de palavras não ditas.
Por que ele tinha que estar ali? As lembranças do nosso tempo juntos voltaram como uma maré violenta: momentos de amor manchados pela traição, felicidade corrompida pela perda.
O homem que arrancara meu filho de mim agora estava ali, diante dos meus olhos, como o fa**asma que eu mais temia reencontrar.
Eu queria fugir, escapar dessa presença sufocante que me arrastava de volta para o abismo do passado.
Dei um passo para trás, mas ele permaneceu imóvel, uma parede de gelo à minha frente. Meu coração martelava no pe**o e, dentro de mim, raiva e medo se misturavam em uma torrente incontrolável.
Sua voz, carregada de desdém, cortou o silêncio entre nós: "Então, este é o seu novo jogo? Exibir-se para todos, fingindo ser algo que você não é?"
Capítulo 5 Perspectiva de Raina: A decisão estava em minhas mãos
Eu ainda tentava entender a audácia dele de me encurralar dessa forma -- e logo ali, em público. Assim que cruzei o olhar frio e impenetrável de Alexander, soube que nada de bom viria.
Tentei me afastar discretamente, evitando qualquer cena, mas o aperto de sua mão em meu braço foi implacável, firme o bastante para me deixar marcas.
"Ainda está aqui? Fazendo o mesmo tipo de coisa? Se pr**tituindo para subir na vida, do**indo com os homens certos. É esse o exemplo que quer dar para Ava?", ele disse enquanto seus olhos me percorriam de cima a baixo, como se me pesassem e me julgassem em um único gesto.
As palavras dele me atingiram como um golpe e, por um instante, o ar me faltou. Como alguém capaz de sussurrar promessas de amor podia agora me humilhar com tanto desprezo?
O homem diante de mim parecia uma versão distorcida daquele que um dia jurei amar.
"Me solte. Não tenho tempo para o que quer que você esteja tentando provar aqui, Alexander", murmurei, tentando conter o tremor na voz e a raiva que ameaçava transbordar.
Mas ele não cedeu, pelo contrário -- seus olhos endureceram ainda mais. Ele se inclinou para perto, o hálito quente tocando minha pele, e o gesto me fez estremecer.
"Talvez você tenha ficado por aqui me observando. Esperando o momento certo pra arruinar minhas chances com os Graham, é isso?", ele disse, seu tom baixo e carregado de desdém.
A acusação me atingiu em cheio, mas uma pontada de satisfação sombria se misturou à raiva.
Ele não estava completamente errado -- eu o havia observado de longe durante anos, esperando o momento certo para acertar as contas. Ainda assim, o modo arrogante e distorcido como ele imaginava as coisas era típico de Alexander.
"Se enxerga! Você não vale nem um segundo do meu tempo", retruquei, com a voz firme, enquanto me desvencilhava do aperto dele.
Virei as costas, pronta para sair, mas uma voz estridente cortou o ar.
"Ah! Que coincidência te encontrar assim, Raina", exclamou Eliza, acompanhada de Vanessa e da mãe de Alexander.
As três me olhavam como se fossem um tribunal ambulante. O desprezo estampado no rosto de Eliza era quase palpável, misturado com ciúme e satisfação.
"Eliza, agora não", Alexander murmurou, a impaciência evidente em sua voz, enquanto seu aperto em meu braço diminuía, mas ele ainda não me soltou por completo, como se relutasse em me deixar ir mesmo sob o olhar acusador da noiva.
Essa família era podre por dentro -- cada um à sua maneira. Eliza, a esposa perfeita aos olhos da sociedade, agia como uma garota insegura, cega pela própria possessividade.
"Talvez você devesse saber com quem está falando antes de sair fazendo acusações", rebati, erguendo o queixo, tentando recuperar o controle que Alexander tentara tirar de mim.
Alexander desviou o olhar com desdém, como se toda essa cena estivesse abaixo dele.
Sua mãe, impassível como sempre, limitou-se a me lançar um olhar calculado e cortante, como quem avaliava uma ameaça silenciosa.
"Raina!", a voz de Dominic soou próxima e serena.
Quando me virei, o vi a poucos metros, observando a confusão com um ar controlado que sempre o acompanhava.
Um alívio percorreu meu pe**o e fui em direção a ele, deixando para trás o círculo de olhares venenosos.
Dominic me fitou com atenção, o cenho levemente franzido, e perguntou, preocupado: "Você está bem? O que eles fizeram com você?"
"Está tudo bem, Dom. Só preciso respirar um pouco", respondi, forçando um sorriso que não chegou aos olhos.
Mas Dominic não se deixou enganar. A expressão serena dele se transformou em tensão visível quando se voltou para Alexander e sua família.
"O modo como te trataram é inaceitável. São abutres, prontos pra atacar o primeiro sinal de fraqueza."
Soltei uma risada amarga, respondendo: "Abutres seriam mais generosos."
Meu braço ainda latejava onde Alexander me segurara com tanta força. Era sempre assim -- ele, frio e arrogante, incapaz de ver qualquer coisa além do próprio ego.
Respirei fundo, afastando o desprezo que ele me lançara, e me obriguei a seguir em frente. "Isso é maior do que ele, maior do que nós", repeti mentalmente, como uma oração.
Mais à frente, no salão, percebi o rosto de Alexander se contrair em um disfarce malfeito de autocontrole.
Dominic, percebendo o olhar e também a marca vermelha no meu pulso, me questionou: "Ele te machucou?"
"Não, não foi nada que eu não consiga lidar", respondi, grata por sua presença.
Dominic sempre fora meu ponto de equilíbrio, o oposto perfeito de Alexander -- calmo, racional, inabalável.
E eu sabia que, se fosse provocada um pouco mais, talvez não tivesse conseguido me conter. Mas ainda não era o momento de confrontar meu ex-marido.
Seguimos juntos de volta ao salão. O anfitrião já falava no palco, e, mesmo em meio à multidão elegante, era impossível ignorar a presença de Alexander, que tentava manter a postura, o semblante controlado, mas sua tensão era evidente.
Quando ele nos viu, seu olhar se demorou em Dominic, depois se voltou para mim, com uma frieza que beirava o desprezo.
Observei, curiosa, enquanto Alexander se aproximava de Dominic, com uma expressão educada.
"Dominic Graham, é uma honra tê-lo aqui esta noite", ele disse.
Em seguida, seu olhar recaiu sobre mim com um brilho de sarcasmo. "E Raina. é sempre uma surpresa encontrá-la."
Engoli em seco, sentindo o coração acelerar, mas Dominic tomou a dianteira, determinado a não permitir que Alexander ditasse o ritmo da conversa.
Arqueando uma sobrancelha com ironia, ele respondeu: "Uma honra? Não há honra alguma quando minha convidada é tratada como um incômodo."
As palavras foram diretas e cortantes. Vi o maxilar de Alexander se contrair, mas ele manteve o disfarce de neutralidade.
"Há formas e formas de se comportar, Alexander. E o que você fez aqui passa dos limites", Dominic continuou, seu tom firme e controlado.
Alexander manteve a expressão impassível, mas o brilho furioso em seus olhos o entregava. Ele sabia que a noite não terminaria bem para ele.
Dominic, então, ajustou o paletó, sem pressa, e deixou escapar um leve sorriso. "Sei que você está interessado em uma parceria conosco. Mas essa decisão não será apenas minha."
Sua mão pousou sobre meu ombro, em um gesto que mesclava poder e proteção. O olhar de Alexander se voltou para mim, carregado de raiva, mas eu sustentei o dele.
Sorri -- um sorriso pequeno, controlado, proposital. Um lembrete de que, por mais que ele tentasse me destruir, eu ainda estava de pé.
Então, Dominic se inclinou um pouco em minha direção, perguntando com um tom provocador: "O que você acha, Raina? Devemos ouvi-lo?"
Com isso, ele deixava claro que a decisão estava em minhas mãos.
Eu podia sentir o olhar de Alexander queimando em mim..
O que acontecerá a seguir?
O número de capítulos exibidos aqui é limitado. Por favor, clique no botão abaixo para baixar nosso aplicativo e ler mais capítulos.
(Ao abrir o aplicativo, você irá automaticamente para este livro.)
&5&
The real heiress stole her family and husband, forcing her out with nothing. Unexpectedly, she reunited with her childhood rival. She had braced for his mockery, but he proposed instead. This power couple, hiding countless identities, dominated the elite circle, leaving her ex-husband regret.
=====
"Mrs. Gibson, do you have anything to say about your husband showing up at Marilee Jenkins' birthday party today and announcing that he's going to divorce you?"
"People are saying Marilee is Mr. Gibson's first love and the real daughter of your parents, while you're the fake. You've been enjoying her parents' love all this time and married to the man meant for her. Do you feel bad about that?"
The birthday party was crowded, and Alexia Gibson found herself completely trapped.
Reporters quickly closed in on her, pushing cameras and microphones into her face as camera flashes burst from every direction, giving her no space to breathe.
"Your parents just said you're not really their daughter and cut off your money."
"You've been out of work for two years, living as a housewife, so how exactly do you plan to support yourself now? Mrs. Gibson, any comments?"
Alexia just stood there, frozen. Her mind was still spinning from everything she'd just heard.
So this Marilee Jenkins was the real daughter of her so-called parents and her husband's true love.
And her? She was Roger Gibson's wife on paper, but clearly, just a joke to everyone else.
Years ago, the Jenkins couple had pulled her out of some run-down neighborhood overseas, saying she was their long-lost daughter.
But had they really not bothered doing a simple DNA test before welcoming her in?
Why did they only discover the mistake now?
Alexia's body tensed up. Her eyes drifted over to the man standing next to her.
However, Roger's attention was not on her. He was looking at Marilee, as if they were the only ones in the room.
Her voice came out strained as she asked, "Why? You didn't even tell me."
Roger's face was as cold as stone.
"Now you know. That's all that matters. It's over, Alexia. You were never good enough for me. Our marriage? Just a transaction. The only woman I've ever loved is Marilee. And you know why I never touched you after the wedding? Because you disgust me. You're like a spoiled dish--completely unappetizing."
His eyes swept over her from head to toe, full of scorn. Her simple clothes, those outdated glasses--everything about her clashed with the glossy, high-class world he lived in.
Before his harsh words even fully sank in, Alexia lifted her glass and threw the ch**pagne right into his face.
The drink hit him with a loud splash, soaking his face and pricey suit. He just stood there, stunned, as the li**id dripped from his hair and down his face.
"A spoiled dish? You told me you wanted an ordinary housewife. Dad and Mom told me they wanted an obedient daughter, who never outdid anyone!"
Without hesitation, she threw the glass to the floor. The sharp crash instantly silenced the whole room.
Roger's face turned red with embarrassment. His jaw tightened. "Have you lost your mind?"
From the stage, the Jenkins couple yelled at her. "Alexia, this is Marilee's birthday, not a place for your drama!"
People in the crowd rolled their eyes and muttered that she was nuts.
None of them had a clue what she had given up for the two families all these years.
Shoving through the crowd, Alexia made a beeline for the exit. Reporters swarmed after her like a flood.
She shoved past them all, blind to the pouring rain, deaf to the murmurs and judgment surrounding her.
Right now, all she wanted was to get away--far from the noise, the eyes, and the humiliation.
But just as she broke through the crowd and made it outside, a bunch of Marilee's wild fans shoved her hard, and she slipped, landing on the wet road.
Marilee was an A-list star in showbiz. Her birthday party was being livestreamed, and tons of fans had gathered outside.
The second they saw Alexia step out, the crowd lost it, shouting like wild animals who had just found something to attack.
"Alexia, you've got some nerve attending Marilee's birthday party. You've got no shame!"
"You're not even the real daughter. Just go back to whatever dump you came from, or are you too hooked on the Jenkins' money?"
"Roger's going to divorce you, and you still think it's okay to show your face around Marilee? Who do you think you are?"
"Go away already!"
Alexia lay there on the wet street, frozen for a second, while their nasty words echoed all around her.
She let out a dry, bitter laugh. Everything was such a joke. A broken marriage, a cold family, and now they'd left her completely humiliated.
What was the point of pretending for so long? She had kept her head down, put up with everything, and this was what she got in the end?
A wave of helplessness washed over her. She closed her eyes, not even caring anymore as the freezing rain drenched her.
Through the noise and chaos, a flattering voice broke through. "Mr. Mason." The polite greeting was followed by firm, steady footsteps coming closer in the rain.
Moments later, a black umbrella appeared above her, silently cutting through the rain and offering her shelter from the storm.
Chapter 2 Meeting Him Again At Her Absolute Worst
Alexia slowly looked up and met a sharp, intense gaze.
The streetlights flickered in the rain. Waylon Mason stood there, tall and intimidating, with a strong presence that made people uncomfortable.
Behind him was a row of fancy cars parked along the street, catching everyone's eye.
His assistants were standing on both sides of him, and one was holding an umbrella over his head.
But the umbrella Waylon was holding was tilted just to cover Alexia.
Waylon took a slow step forward and leaned in. Before she could react, his fingers reached up and removed the heavy, black-rimmed glasses from her face.
Her bright, beautiful eyes were now fully visible.
He looked down at her with a smirk. "It's been years, Alexia. Look at you--what a mess. Did you finally stop being that love-crazy girl, or are you still dreaming useless dreams?"
Every word cut deeper. Alexia's eyes started to tear up, and the little bit of strength she had left broke down under his harsh voice.
She opened her mouth to retort, but before she could speak, Waylon suddenly picked her up in his arms in front of everyone, protecting her from the rain and everything around them.
He walked toward the black car waiting nearby, carrying her as the bodyguards quickly stepped aside to make way.
All the noise and the rude comments around them faded away.
Everyone just stood there, stunned, watching them leave with shock written all over their faces.
Inside the car, Alexia held onto her muddy, soaked dress with trembling hands.
She looked down, her voice rough. "Waylon, why'd you have to show up now?"
Why now.when everything in her life was falling apart?
Waylon tilted his head at her question, then reached out and took her chin in his hand, gently but firmly lifting her face.
His voice was calm, yet carried a cold edge. "Why else? I came to check on the woman I liked the least."
His eyes darkened, a smirk playing on his lips. "So, Alexia, do you remember what I said to you seven years ago?"
Of course she did.
Waylon was the golden child of the Mason family. Her biggest rival back in the day.
The last time they met was at the airport, seven years ago. What was meant to be a goodbye turned into their worst fight.
Waylon always hated how she begged for the Jenkins family's approval and how she held onto Roger like she had no pride.
And she couldn't stand his ego and how he judged everyone she cared about.
Back then, he'd warned her clearly--chasing approval from people who'd never truly accept her would only end in disappointment, leaving her with nothing in the end.
But she was too hopeful to see it. She had told herself, "It's okay if they don't like me now. If I work hard and put them first, they'll accept me eventually."
They wanted her to marry Roger, so she agreed. Her brothers didn't want her getting too powerful, so she acted clueless and average.
But behind the scenes, she was quietly taking out their threats and protecting both the Jenkins and the Gibson families.
As Waylon's fingers held her jaw tightly, her warm tears fell on his hand, running down his knuckles.
His expression wavered. The coldness faded just for a second. Then, he let go.
Alexia's voice shook, still raspy from the rain. "Waylon, you were right. They tossed me aside after exploiting me. For more than twenty years, I gave them everything I had. I was so st**id."
It was a long time before Waylon finally spoke again. "You were not st**id. They just weren't worth it."
But Alexia didn't respond.
He turned to look at her and saw her fast asleep.
Later that night, Alexia suddenly came down with a high fever.
Santino Blake, Waylon's personal doctor, got pulled out of bed by a single call and had to grab his stuff and rush over late at night.
With his years of experience, Santino quickly ran a full checkup. He stood by the bed, looking at Alexia's pale, tired face, and let out a soft sigh.
Chapter 3 Our Luna Is Back
Santino glanced over his shoulder and caught sight of Waylon on the balcony, ci**rette burning slowly between his fingers.
Sm**e curled up in lazy spirals, casting a ghostly veil over Waylon's sharp features, softening them with each exhale.
Waylon rarely sm**ked. Santino could only recall one other time Waylon had smoked like this--two years ago.
Santino stepped outside and joined him.
"She's stable now. She just picked up a chill from being stuck in the rain and took the shock pretty hard. I've given her an injection and some medication--she'll be all right."
A brief pause allowed Santino to scan the night sky.
"I checked the headlines. The Jenkins family didn't just cut her off; they humiliated her for everyone to see--right in the middle of Marilee's birthday party."
Anger edged into Santino's voice. "Hadn't they done a DNA test before taking her back from abroad? This whole thing smells like a setup."
A sudden vibration broke his focus--Alexia's phone was buzzing on the nightstand.
Waylon strode inside, intent on ending the call, but the name flashing on the screen stopped him cold.
A flicker of something dark flashed across his eyes as he picked up and put on the speaker.
Shouting erupted instantly, the caller's anger unmistakable.
"Alexia, you've ignored every call and message. What exactly are you trying to pull? Faking your own disappearance won't help. Tomorrow, you're signing the divorce agreement, and that's the end of it. I've shown enough patience. Stop standing in the way of Marilee and me. You've lived off the Jenkins family long enough."
"If you have any dignity left, walk away for good--it's the least you can do for Marilee. Don't worry about your share--you'll get what's coming. You looked after my grandmother and my mother these past years, fine. But don't overstep. Learn when to quit. Why aren't you answering me? Where are you?"
The stillness that lingered on the line finally made Roger uneasy. His confidence wavered and his words lost their edge.
Santino internally begged for someone to step in and stop what was happening, feeling panic surge as things slipped further from control.
From the moment Roger started speaking, Santino caught the way Waylon's face darkened.
His eyes went cold and every hint of warmth vanished, leaving the atmosphere icy and suffocating. Santino could barely stand, knees threatening to give way.
Waylon's expression turned sharp, his smile edged with cruelty. "So that's the way you speak to her, huh?"
Every mu**le in Roger's body tensed, instincts screaming a warning. His voice grew cautious. "Who are you? Where is Alexia?"
Waylon let his gaze settle on the b*d, where Alexia rested, her breathing faint but even.
His response came as a gentle murmur, almost lost in the tension. "She's asleep."
He let a short silence hang before adding, "And she's right here with me."
The only thing that answered him was the explosive sound of rage through the phone. Roger's voice thundered down the line. "What did you just say? Who are you?"
Amusement glimmered in Waylon's eyes as a low chuckle slipped out. "Relax. You'll figure it out.assuming you live long enough." Without another word, he ended the call.
By morning, the rain had vanished, leaving sunlight streaming through the windows as Alexia stirred awake.
She reached for her phone, greeted by a storm of missed calls and furious messages from Roger.
Without reacting, she scrolled through the flood of texts, then let the device drop onto the sheets. Right now, a hot shower mattered more.
Steam fogged the bathroom mirror as she faced her reflection. Something had changed--her eyes, once dull, now held a spark she hadn't seen in ages.
For the first time in ages, she tried out a smile, and this one actually reached her eyes, genuine and alive.
It felt like a fever had burned away all her confusion, stripping her heart of old pain and fo**ish loyalty to those who never deserved it.
No more playing the fool. No more pretending everything was fine. This sad story was over.
Wrapped in a towel after the shower, she scanned her contacts and paused on a name untouched for years.
Her call barely rang once before chaos exploded on the other end.
"Luna! It's about d**mn time! Tell me--are the rumors true? You're finally getting a divorce?"
Laughter and shouting burst from the background, her friends making no attempt to hide their eavesdropping.
Alexia replied calmly, "Yes, I'm going to sign the divorce agreement today."
Celebration roared through the phone. Whistles, cheers, the clink of glasses--her friends were clearly turning it into a full-blown party.
"Took you long enough to snap out of that trance! No more housewife blues. Our Luna is back!"
"Divorce is the best thing to happen to you! Roger never deserved you. Say the word and I'll handle him myself!"
"And don't get me started on that overrated Jenkins family. If not for you, they'd have collapsed during last year's crash. Luna, we're ready when you are--the Helix Consortium stands with you."
Their laughter and support brought a genuine grin to Alexia's lips. "In that case, I need a ride."
Without missing a beat, a man's voice broke in, buzzing with excitement. "A ride? For your grand return? Name it. I'll send the reigning racing champion to pick you up!"
Chapter 4 Do You Believe Me
The call had barely ended when the soft click of the door caught Alexia's attention, her head snapping up.
There in the doorway stood Waylon, his height casting a shadow, his expression giving nothing away as their eyes met.
Neither of them had anticipated this kind of encounter.
Fresh from the shower, Alexia's hair clung damply to her cheeks, a robe slipping low on her shoulders, skin flushed and eyes still hazy with warmth.
That oversized bathrobe, threatening to slip further, revealed soft lines of skin; the faint scent of shampoo lingered in the air, sweet and impossible to ignore.
Waylon's gaze swept over her, lingering just long enough for her cheeks to flush, before he looked away calmly. "Get ready. Breakfast is on the table."
Moments later, Alexia emerged dressed, met by the aroma of a beautifully arranged breakfast.
Hunger won out over pride; she took her seat without pretense, finishing most of the meal before pausing for breath.
Little was said as Waylon let her eat in peace, only breaking the silence after she'd nearly cleared her plate. "You need a lawyer?"
She set down her coffee cup, eyes meeting his squarely. "So you've heard."
Amusement tugged at his mouth, though his eyes stayed cold. "Is there anyone left who doesn't?"
Alexia tasted the bitterness of the coffee and grimaced for just a moment, though she quickly composed herself. "I can deal with it."
As the words left her mouth, she realized he might think she was too stubborn to admit she needed help.
After all, in most people's eyes, women being dumped were pathetic.
"Do you believe me when I say that?" she asked.
A smirk played on Waylon's face, eyes narrowing with a knowing glint. "Why wouldn't I? Alexia, he's the one who should've fallen apart."
That unwavering gaze held her still, though she managed a small, genuine smile in return. "You've always known how to make a good point."
Once breakfast was done, Alexia got ready to leave.
Reaching the doorway, she stopped and glanced back. "Thank you," she said quietly, her gratitude unmistakable.
There was no chance she'd forget his kindness.
Ten minutes had ticked past their appointment, and Roger's patience was quickly wearing thin as he and Marilee waited for Alexia in a private club.
"Why isn't she here yet? Is she refusing to divorce you?" Marilee pressed herself closer to him, sugar in her tone as she pouted.
"You haven't forgotten our shopping plans, right? You promised you'd buy me a gown after this."
Roger hummed in response. The weekend's banquet held by the Chamber of Commerce would be the perfect stage to introduce Marilee--the timing of her comeback couldn't have been more ideal.
Every influential name in town would be present, all eyes fixed on Waylon's much-anticipated return.
Just thinking about Waylon sent a flicker of unease across Roger's face.
The Chamber of Commerce's open support for Waylon right before the election of its new president wasn't exactly good news for the Gibson family.
A sudden uproar near the doorway snapped Roger's focus.
His head turned, and in that instant, it felt as though the atmosphere in the room shifted.
Everyone's attention zeroed in on a single figure gliding inside with effortless grace.
Alexia walked in, her crimson dress hugging every curve, heels whispering over the polished floor. Each stride radiated poise and quiet confidence.
The scarlet hue, that unmistakable glow--she looked like the sunrise brought to life.
With each step Alexia took, Marilee's smile grew tighter, until it disappeared altogether when Alexia claimed the seat across from them.
Roger couldn't hide his shock either; his eyes remained glued to Alexia's artfully made-up features.
"You." Words caught in his throat, visible in the small, nervous bob of his Adam's apple.
Nobody present could believe this woman was the same person from last night--the awkward glasses, the baggy checkered shirt, the sopping hair.
Yesterday's pitiful girl had been replaced by someone utterly different, confident, unrecognizable.
Nothing about their surprise caught Alexia off guard. Her beauty wasn't news to her; she'd just chosen not to make a show of it.
Childhood lessons had always emphasized modesty, staying out of the spotlight, never inviting too much notice.
Marriage only tightened the leash. Years spent tending to Roger's grandmother and fielding disapproval from a mother-in-law who'd been fed tales of her so-called wild youth.
Not even her hair or the color of her clothes escaped scrutiny. Every detail had been censored into drab submission.
Vibrant dresses never made it to her closet--only baggy, forgettable options filled the shelves.
That chapter, though, was behind her.
With unhurried confidence, Alexia called over a server, ordered a te**ila, and began paging through the divorce agreement--unfazed by the attention.
Marilee recovered her composure first, flashing a sweet smile.
"Alexia, I hope you're alright after yesterday. The reporters caught us all off guard. Someone told me you slipped in the rain. It must have been miserable out there."
Chapter 5 Watching Her Unravel
Patience faded on Marilee's face as she waited for a reaction, but Alexia wouldn't even meet her eyes.
Instead, she directed her attention to Roger. "Is the Gibson fortune going up in flames? This is all I'm worth?"
A shadow crossed Roger's face. "That's what the prenup says, so that's all you're entitled to."
Even before they got married, he'd closed every door to the family's fortune, making sure she'd never find a loophole.
Realizing Alexia was blatantly ignoring her, Marilee butted in, "You're getting more than enough, Alexia. Was it love or money you wanted from Roger, anyway?"
Alexia still refused to acknowledge her, not so much as a glance. "With an amount this pitiful? Hang on to it--you'll need every last cent when the Gibson empire falls apart."
Those words wiped any patience from Roger's face. "Don't push it, Alexia."
Suddenly, Marilee's eyes shimmered with tears and her voice went brittle, as though her heart might break. "Please, Alexia, don't do this to Roger," she whimpered.
The crowd's attention snapped toward her as sobs and sniffles filled the space.
Marilee reached for the delicate pink diamond at her throat.
"Maybe you never knew, but Roger and I have loved each other for years. He gave me this necklace on your wedding day--it's a symbol of his devotion. That cherry blossom garden in your backyard? Roger built it just for me, hoping I'd smile. You stole my life. Everything you have should have been mine. Don't you think it's time you let go and left quietly, without asking for more?"
An uncomfortable hush settled over the room.
It was rare to see a mi**ress acting so brazenly, demanding the wife walk away with empty hands.
Finally, Alexia turned to meet Marilee's eyes, her voice colder than ice.
"I stole your life? Was it me who went to the Jenkins family, begging them to accept me? Was I the one who refused a DNA test and strutted around calling myself their true daughter? Did I chase after Roger, desperate for a marriage?"
Every pointed question shattered the silence, each one sharp enough to cut.
All color drained from Marilee's face, her body rigid beneath Alexia's icy stare.
Not missing a beat, Alexia delivered the final blow. "Go blame your own fo**ish parents."
That snapped the last of Marilee's restraint. "If it weren't for them, you'd still be digging through ga**age. You've been living a luxurious life for twenty years. Without them, you'd be nothing but a pauper."
A sharp laugh spilled from Alexia. Her gaze drifted to the faded needle marks on her wrist. "If this is what luxury looks like, I must have missed out. Pain, though? There was always enough of that to go around."
Disbelief filled Marilee's eyes, her words trembling with contempt.
"Lies. You grew up surrounded by filth--you're nothing but ga**age. If my parents hadn't stepped in, you'd be gone by now. Some gang would have had its way with you and left you in the gutter--"
The rest never left her mouth. A sharp s**p rang out, echoing in the room.
Stunned, Marilee pressed trembling fingers to the swelling red mark, speechless.
A cold smile curved Alexia's lips.
"There's nothing I despise more than people who never learned basic decency. The Jenkins family or not, I'd still be standing here as myself. But you? Without that divorce agreement, you're nothing more than a shameless mi**ress."
Not waiting for a reaction, Alexia hurled the signed divorce agreement straight at Marilee, landing the hit with brutal precision. "Think of it as my parting gift."
Marilee flinched as the edges nicked her forehead, letting out a startled cry. The shock left her shaking, the color draining from her lips.
Alexia watched the panic unraveling Marilee's composure, noticing the nervous twitch on her face.
Pretending to care, she cocked her head and offered, "Do you need me to call an ambulance for you?"
That question broke whatever restraint Marilee had left. "Why would you ever do that?" she snapped.
Alexia gave her a look laced with fake concern. "It just seems like you're not well at all."
Marilee's voice cracked as she screamed, "I am not sick!"
Even Roger turned, uncertain and uneasy as her shrill denial filled the room.
Unbothered, Alexia let her reply drip with venom, hitting every nerve.
"Funny. People who are actually unwell always insist they're fine. Might be time to book yourself a session with a psychiatrist. And before I forget.cute necklace. But honestly? Junk stones aren't worth much these days."
Marilee's face turned ashen, her fury and humiliation overwhelming her. Without warning, she collapsed straight into Roger's arms.
Anger carved hard lines into Roger's face as he pulled Marilee close, glaring at Alexia.
"I never realized you could be so cruel. Just because you wore my ring, you think you can say whatever you want?"
Before Alexia could offer a comeback, a familiar voice cut through the tension, heavy with mockery.
"Really? That's your angle? Just because she wore your ring, you think you could speak to her like that?"
A collective g**p swept through the crowd, all attention snapping to the doorway.
There, tall and dangerously handsome, a man entered, charm radiating effortlessly with every step.
What happens next?
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&5&
She dreamed of marrying the man of her fantasies--a hero strong enough to shield her from danger and protect her from predators. But on the day she was cast into the unforgiving depths of the kingdom's dungeon, it was the Beast King who held her in his arms. "At last, I have you in my arms, my mate!" he declared.
=====
UREKAI:
In the days of old, the Urekai stood out as the strongest and most powerful beings in the world.
The ancient tongue called them 'fearsome beasts' for:
Like werewolves, they could transform into beasts.
Like vampires, they consumed bl**d.
And walked among humans with no one the wiser.
The ageless, peaceful, selfless beings preferred to keep to themselves. Despite being feared and distrusted, they never responded with aggression.
They granted passage to any species wishing to enter their lands beyond the great mountain and welcomed everyone.
But five centuries ago, an unexpected species attacked the Urekais during their one night of weakness. The humans.
While protecting his people, Grand King Daemonikai lost control of his mind, going feral.
Becoming a danger to the same people whom he had given everything to protect.
Although it seemed impossible, the Urekais managed to capture their king's beast form, imprisoning him in a secure cage, ensuring he could never escape.
But, consumed by hatred for humans, the Urekai plunged themselves into darkness.
Becoming the fearsome beasts others had always feared them to be.
Wearing their monstrosity with pride.
HUMANS:
After invading the Urekais, a mysterious virus outbreak struck.
No one knew where it came from, but many speculated their attack on the Urekais brought it on.
While most males eventually recovered after a long struggle, the virus proved fatal for the majority of females.
Survivors rarely gave birth to female children. Those left or born became scarce and sought-after commodities.
In many kingdoms, greedy fathers sold their daughters to breeding houses. Some were forced into pleasure houses, existing solely for men's enjoyment. Some faced terrible abuse in exchange for protection.
Even the wealthy and the privileged could not guarantee the safety of the females in their lives, as the mere sight of a female--be it an infant, a young girl, or an elderly woman--drew unwanted attention.
Female children faced constant danger.
They are not safe in the society.
***
PROLOGUE
HUMAN LAND: THE KINGDOM OF NAVIA.
"It's a g-girl, your highness,"
Prince Garret froze.
As he turned, looking at the palace healer, his hands resting on his exhausted wife's body, shook uncontrollably.
He had secretly arranged the delivery months ago, and now they were hidden in one of the underground rooms in the palace, where his beloved wife, Pandora, was giving birth.
"What did you just say to me?" Prince Garret hoped he heard wrong. Perhaps it had been a mistake.
Please, gods, let it be a mistake!
But the pity in the older man's face couldn't be disguised. The palace healer turned the little bundle. "The baby is a girl."
Terror crossed Pandora's face as she adjusted herself to get a closer look at her baby.
"No. Oh, the gods, please no." She shook her head vigorously fresh tears gathering in her eyes.
Tears welled in the healer's eyes. "I'm so sorry, your highness."
"No!" Pandora cried out burying her face into her husband's waiting arms, sobs after sobs ripping from her throat.
Garret felt numb as he held his wife.
His first daughter, Aekeira, wasn't even four yet, and the king was already negotiating with the kingdom of Cavar to sell her to the highest bidder.
Because, apparently, Navia 'could use more funds.'
King Orestus might be Garret's brother, but he was a tyrant, and his word was law.
Now, another girl child? Two daughters?
Tears filled Garrett's eyes as he looked upon the crying bundle wiggling around in healer's arms.
The world was not safe for either of his daughters.
"I'll raise her like a boy," Pandora declared suddenly.
The healer's eyes widened. "Are you suggesting we keep her identity a secret?"
"Yes," Pandora affirmed, her resolve strengthening. "This child will never be seen as a girl. No one will ever find out!"
"B-but, it's impossible to hide something like this, your majesty." The healer panicked. "The king will order our execution!"
"Then, we take the secret to our grave." Pandora's voice was fierce. "I was unable to protect my first daughter, but by the Light-gods, I will protect my second."
Too dangerous, but Garret was all for it too. This was their best chance to keep their daughter safe, and they would take it.
"As far as we are concerned, the child I bore today was a male." Pandora looked at the baby. "His name is Emeriel. Emeriel Galilea Evenstone."
Emeriel.
It's a neutral name, and also means 'Sky's Protection' in the old tongue. Garret liked it.
Fitting too, for their daughter would need all the luck and protection in the world.
"I agree," Garret spoke aloud.
With the plan fully in his mind, Garret swore the two other men in the room to secrecy.
*********
That night, Garrett and his wife, stood by the baby's small cradle, watching their newborn sleep. Across the room, their three-year-old daughter, Aekeira, lay curled under a blanket, her tiny chest rising and falling in peaceful rhythm.
"In all my years on this earth, I've never seen anyone bear two female children, Garrett," Pandora whispered, voice cracking.
She glanced up at him, eyes glistening with tears. "I don't know what this means for us. or for them."
Garrett placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Maybe it means they have a great destiny to fulfill."
"Or a great sorrow in their future," Pandora's eyes drifted to their eldest, worriedly. "I'm so scared for them. How could something like this happen?"
Perhaps you've been touched by the gods, my darling," Garrett said in comfort.
"I really doubt that. Why me? Why us?"
He had no answer to that.
"If that's true," Pandora sniffled, brushing her fingers over the baby's soft cheek, "may that god always protect my babies. We won't always be here to do that."
Garrett pulled his wife into his arms, holding her close, fighting to hide his own worry.
Because, she was right.
What were the odds of a couple in these times bearing not just one, but two daughters?
None. Absolutely none.
As he gazed at their sleeping children, prayer rose in his heart. Whatever god you are, please. protect our angels.
Chapter 2 THE PRINCESS IN A 'PRINCE' DISGUISE
Twenty-one Years Later
PRINCE EMERIEL.
"He's so pretty," a voice murmured.
"It's the feminine prince," another one said.
The third man had l*st in his eyes. "No man should have hair that gorgeous."
Prince Emeriel ignored them all as he moved from the palace grounds into the building, head held high.
Just because he was used to the unwanted attention, didn't mean it didn't make his skin crawl.
He might have lived as a boy all his life, but it didn't exactly keep him all that safe. Men of Navia would stick their ph**llus in anything with a h*le, especially if it looked remotely feminine.
But Emeriel's senses were always on high alert. Which is why he was probably the only twenty-one-year-old vi**in in Navia.
That, and his sister, Princess Aekeira, always did everything in her power to protect him. To make sure his secrets remained tightly hidden.
A carriage accident had taken their parents fifteen years ago, and King Orestus had adopted them. That tyrant made life a living hell for them.
Emeriel entered the hallway to Aekeira's chambers when he heard it.
Whimpers.
Soft, pain-filled whimpers.
That sound was coming from…
Rage surged through Emeriel. Not this again!
Determined, he stormed down the hall, and shoved the door open, unsheathing his s*ord.
"Get away from my sister right this instant, Lord Murphy, or I swear to the sky I will cut you down where you stand!" Emeriel snarled.
The minister of human affairs's face twisted with irritation, and he stopped thrusting. "Go away, little prince. You're ruining the fun."
Emeriel hated the jab 'little prince,' but surely not as much as he hated being called a 'slight prince.' Over the years, Navians had given him a lot of names thanks to his small and feminine look.
"Get away from her right now!" Emeriel strode purposefully toward the b*d, seizing hold of Lord Murphy and pushing him away from Aekeira.
With a satisfying thud, the old oaf tumbled to the floor. Aekeira rose from the b*d, clutching her vulnerable body, her face red from crying, eyes tired and swollen.
Emeriel pulled his sister into his arms, hugging her tightly. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Keira."
"It was not your fault."
"Why the hell would you do that!?" Lord Murphy rose angrily. "I won Princess Aekeira fair and square in the card game at the gathering last night. The king wagered with her and lost to me! I was supposed to have her for two hours at least!"
Emeriel's eyes blazed as he whirled around, facing him. "If you put your hands on her again, I swear to the sky I will cut off your m*le or*an, Lord Murphy."
"You will not dare!"
"I'll gladly take whatever punishment the king gives," he stated with conviction, "but you will be without your manhood. Choose wisely."
Lord Murphy's eyes widened, his hands flying protectively over his cr**ch, face reddening in anger.
"The king will hear of this!" The minister snarled. Taking his clothes, he marched out of the room.
"Oh, Em, why did you do that?" Aekeira's eyes filled with worry. "The king might punish you with the hot whip again."
"I do not care. Let us go to my room." Putting his s*ord away, Emeriel could not even look his sister in the eyes, dangerously close to tears himself.
Helping Aekeira into her clothes, he led her out, and down the hallway.
That age-old guilt crept down Emeriel's spine. Aekeira always protected Emeriel, even when it made her the sole target. His sister never hated him, but Emeriel hated himself for it.
Aekeira was always bubbly and always happy. But in times like this, when her body was vi**ated, she mostly looked tired then. Weary of the world.
Worried about the next aristocrat the king would hand her over to.
Much later, freshened up, Aekeira laid on the bed, closing her eyes.
"Em? My worst nightmare when I was younger was thinking I would be sold to an aristocrat in Cavar, but now, I almost wish that heartless king went ahead with it, instead of changing his mind," Aekeira whispered.
"Please, don't say that." Emeriel held her hand. "That kingdom is a horror play. Anywhere is better than Cavar, sister. Well, except beyond the great mountain, of course."
Just the thought made Emeriel shiver. The Urekai dwelled beyond those mountains.
"Sometimes I wish I could leave this godforsaken kingdom." A single tear slipped from Aekeira's eyes.
Me too, Keira. Me too.
******
That night, after bathing, Emeriel stood before the mirror, staring at his reflection.
His long, silken black hair fell over his shoulders, cascading like a waterfall. With his hair down like this, he looked like what he truly was. A girl.
What would it feel like to live freely, like the person the mirror reflected? To not live in fear of the next man who might seek to take advantage of him, like they do his sister?
Emeriel fantasized about marrying the man of his dreams. A protector. Someone powerful enough to keep him safe, shield him from predators, and sweep him off his feet with immense strength and love.
All delusion. But a sweet one, nonetheless.
Reality was far too ugly.
Shaking it off, he crawled into bed and closed his eyes, letting sleep take him.
.
The dream began as it always did.
The man filled the doorway, hidden in the shadows. He was big, larger and more masculine than any man Emeriel had ever seen.
Tall like a giant, he made Emeriel feel small, like a cornered prey.
"Who are you?" Emeriel's drowsy voice came out shaky, filled with fear. "What do you want from me?"
"You are mine," he said, voice deep as rolling thunder. "Meant to be on your knees for me. On your back. To be f**ked you so hard your legs quake. You were meant to beg for me all the time. Only mine."
Emeriel's face burned with shock. So scandalized, he scrambled upright. "Y-you shouldn't say such improper things to me! It's wrong!"
But the mysterious man stepped into Emeriel's bedroom, emerging from the shadows. As he did, his body shifted into a.beast.
The most terrifying Emeriel had ever seen.
A Urekai.
"Oh gods, oh gods," Emeriel's breath hitched in terror, panic setting in. Of all the shapeshifters in the world, why a UREKAI!?
He advanced with purpose. Its glowing yellow eyes bore into Emeriel, filled with hunger.
Shaking his head fiercely, Emeriel scrambled backward. "No, no, no! Leave me alone!" he shouted, "Guards! Someone, help!"
But no one came.
The beast leapt onto the bed, got on top of Emeriel, trapping him under.
Claws tore through his clothing, Emeriel's vulnerable female body was exposed to its yellow eyes.
His powerful thighs forced Emeriel's apart.!
Emeriel jolted awake with a scream. Body shaking and drenched in sweat, he glanced around the dark, empty room.
"It was just a dream," he whispered, trembling. "Thank the gods. Just a dream."
The same dream again. He'd had this dream for months now.
He swallowed hard, running a shaky hand through his hair. "Why do I keep having such a scary nightmare?"
It terrified Emeriel a lot.
A Urekai?
No one in this world prayed to meet a Urekai in their lifetime. Certainly not Emeriel.
Yet, even with all the terror inside, the hotness of the dream lingered in his body. His feminine core felt different. W*t.
What does this mean?
Chapter 3 UREKAI
Stepping outside the next morning, two warriors stopped before Emeriel. "The king summons you, my prince," One of them said. "Your presence is needed in the courtroom."
Sh*t. That foolish minister wasted no time ratting on him.
Emeriel let the way to court. It's just whipping, he will be fine.
But, as he walked down the hall towards the door, it was eerily quiet.
Something was wrong.
The court was always noisy from the outside. Mutterings, murmurs, arguments were always expected.
His worry deepened when the door opened, and all eyes didn't turn to gaze at him condescendingly. Instead, everyone's eyes were fixed at the center of the king's court.
Emeriel's eyes followed theirs.
Two men dressed in all-white apparel robes, with long, straight, waist-length black hair stood, appearing harmless.
But a longer glance had Emeriel noticing muscles barely concealed under their robes, their slightly tipped ears, and their incredibly unnaturally handsome faces that were completely unreadable.
He froze.
Urekai.
These ones looked expensive and aristocratic.
Emeriel's throat went dry. No one prays to meet a Urekai face-to-face.
"What do you say, King Orestus?" the Urekai with the long scar running from his cheek spoke. He looked the most intimidating.
"No, this cannot happen," King Orestus protested, looking terrified, and doing a poor job of hiding it.
The frown on Scarred Urekai's face deepened. Clearly, this was a being that did not take no for an answer.
"You are mistaken if you think we are giving you a choice, human king," he said, taking a threatening step forward.
The ministers of the court gasped, shrinking back into their seats.
"Easy, Lord Vladya," the other Urekai spoke, his voice gentler. Imploring rather than commanding.
The scarred Urekai, Lord Vladya, gave the king a hard look that would make any man tremble. "It is the least you can do, human king. Give us the princess, and we will leave quietly."
"We are ready to pay for her," the other Urekai added, reaching into his robe and withdrawing a large bag of coins.
Fear receded. The king's ears perked up with interest. "Money?"
"Not just money, there are gold coins too," The non-scarred Urekai said.
Everyone gasped, including Emeriel. Gold coins were rare and highly valuable.
The Urekai continued, "All you have to do is hand the princess over, and this bag is yours."
Wait…
Princess?
They couldn't possibly mean.
The grand entrance opened again as two guards led Aekeira into the court.
No, no, no, not my sister.
Emeriel moved forward, but the guards who had escorted him stopped his movement. He bit his lip hard, trying not to draw attention to himself, but it was incredibly difficult.
Surely, this couldn't be what he thought it was. It had to be a dream.
There was no way the Urekai were here to buy his sister as a slave.!
The two guards leading Aekeira to the center of the court, stopped a few feet from the Urekais.
The terror on Aekeira's face mirrored Emeriel's feelings.
"So, let me get this straight," King Orestus began, "All I need to do is sell her to you, and all this money is mine? There are no other conditions? Nothing else?"
"Yes," the non-scarred Urekai responded.
Lord Vladya moved forward, closing the distance between him and Aekeira, who was visibly shaking now.
Cupping Aekeira's cheek tilting her head to the side to get a better look. He appeared utterly disgusted. "She'll do."
King Orestus picked up his gavel and struck it hard on his desk. "Sold! From this moment on, Princess Aekeira belongs to the Urekais."
"WHAT!?" The shout escaped Emeriel's lips before he could stop it.
He ran toward the center of the courtroom and fell to his knees. "Please don't sell my sister to them. Not to the Urekais! Please, Your Majesty."
The king gave him a bored look. "It's out of my hands now, Emeriel."
It's out of his…
Emeriel couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You can't let this happen. She's your niece too! How could you do this!?"
He wasn't proud his voice turned the high-pitch of a girl's, as he practically screamed. But he didn't care.
"You know a fate worse than death awaits her beyond the great mountain! How could you agree to sell her to them?"
"As if he has a choice," Lord Vladya scoffed, his deep baritone filled with cynicism.
Emeriel whirled around to face them, anger blanketing his features. But as he stared into those intimidating gray eyes, he couldn't bring himself to give in to his rage.
He had read in one of the books that an Urekai had the power to take a life without physical contact. It might just be a rumor, but with his sister's life on the line, he had no intention of testing that theory.
"I will go too. Where Aekeira goes, I go," Emeriel said, lifting his chin defiantly.
Aekeira snapped her head toward Emeriel, her eyes widened in terror. "No! What are you doing, Em?"
"I'm going with you," Emeriel stated firmly.
Lord Vladya arched a perfectly shaped brow. "No. We have no need for you; we only need your sister."
Emeriel stood. "I don't care. Take me too. If you leave me here, I will always try to come to her. I will cross the great mountains if I have to!"
Lord Vladya laughed. There was no humor in the cold sound. "Without the rite of passage, the great mountain will swallow you whole. You'll never make it to the other side."
"I'll take my chances," Emeriel vowed.
"No! My brother is not coming," Aekeira interjected, before turning pleading eyes to Emeriel. "Don't do this, Em. I'm already doomed. I don't want you to face the same fate!"
"If you come with us, you will be taken as our slave." Lord Vladya stated, pinning Emeriel with a stare.
"Urekai do not care if you're male or female; you will serve in any way your master wants you. Whether it's in the mines or the cellar, on your back, bent over, or on your knees. If you agree to be our slave too, your freewill ends today."
A shiver ran through Emeriel's spine.
"Do you know what it means to be an Urekai's slave, little human? You're a pretty boy; you will not lack masters to service."
Fear seeped through his core. If everything he had heard growing up and read in books were true, being an Urekai's slave was worse than being a human's slave.
And my dreams.
I should be running in a different direction.!
But he steeled his spine. "Where my sister goes, I go."
"We did not agree to get two slaves," the second Urekai said.
"That is settled then," Lord Vladya continued as if he never spoke.
Reaching into his robe, the scarred Urekai pulled out another bag of coins, throwing both on the floor towards the king. "We will take both."
"Sold!" King Orestus banged his gavel again.
Chapter 4 SOLD TO THE UREKAI
Aekeira cried for over an hour after they left the courtroom.
At first, she had been angry, shouting at Emeriel about his foolish decision. And then, she broke down, crying as if her heart had been shattered.
Now, they were left alone in a tiny room on the boat.
Emeriel remained quiet throughout his sister's breakdown, the weight of his decision finally sinking in.
By the Light-gods, he was now a slave. Lower than a lo*born. Lower than a carpet servant.
And not just any slave, but a Urekai slave. Or many Urekai, Emeriel had no idea yet.
He would serve those heartless, ruthless beings who despised humans.
"You're a pretty boy; you will not lack masters to service."
A shiver coursed down Emeriel's spine. They were going to vi**late his body.
What he had always dreamed of would finally coming true. Only now, it wouldn't be just one beast, it would be many. As many as his master wanted.
Emeriel swallowed the bile rising in his throat. His breath seized as panic set in.
"Breathe, Em. Come on," Aekeira appeared by his side, rubbing his back. "In. and out. come on, Em."
Aekeira's voice was gentle, soothing, giving Emeriel no choice but to follow its sound.
Aekeira continued rubbing his back. "Good girl. That's my girl."
Two Urekai came in and forced them to take an unknown pill.
Surely they hadn't paid all that money just to k*ll them before they even became slaves, right? Emeriel thought as she swallowed it.
Minutes later, they both dropped unconscious on the floor.
•
Much later, Emeriel woke to the bumping ride of the carriage. His head woozy, his senses disoriented as he blinked several times to adjust his vision.
They had been forced to take a pill.
Rising, he walked to the carriage's wooden window and pushed it open. A gasp left him.
They are in Urekai land. Emeriel could see dozens of them.
But what had his jaw on the floor was the humans.
There were plenty in sight. Many females nearly matching the number of males.
Everyone knew the Urekais had acquired and held numerous humans captive after the war, but the sheer number he could see surpassed his expectations.
And they were all slaves.
Some were working in the fields, their weary bodies bent under the weight of their labor. Some were hauling heavy loads, their muscles straining with each step, under the watchful eyes of Urekai's.
Some Urekais held whips, while some held s*ords. The sight turned Emeriel's stomach, making him sick.
Is this to be our life now?
Aekeira's gr**n of wakefulness echoed behind him and Emeriel quickly turned to his sister, concern etched on his face.
"Are you alright, Kiera?" he asked, his voice hushed.
Aekeira nodded, rubbing her eyes. "Where are we?" she asked, eyes scanning their surroundings.
Their kingdom, Urai," Emeriel whispered, keeping his voice down so the carriage master would not overhear.
Together, they took in the huge fortress in front of them. The carriage was headed straight for it.
"This place looks highly luxurious," Aekeira said.
Emeriel nodded. As royalty, they were well-acquainted with luxury, but this was on an entirely different scale.
Which begged the question.
Who exactly were the males who had purchased them? And if they weren't his and his sister's masters, then who was.?
*******
They were brought into an empty room after passing numerous chambers and passages.
"This shall be your quarters for now," a soldier announced.
The room was surprisingly spacious and tastefully decorated.
Not long after the soldiers left, the sound of approaching footsteps reached their ears, growing closer with each passing moment.
The door swung open, and an older human woman marched in. Accompanied by a younger human woman and three Urekai males.
The older woman's gaze landed on Emeriel, and she did a double take. "You are one remarkably handsome male. I have seen a lot of pretty males in my time, but even I can hardly think of one who is half as pretty as you."
Feeling uneasy, Emeriel took a step back, finding solace behind Aekeira, who spread her arms protectively to shield him from prying eyes.
"Well, it's a shame you're not the one we came for," the woman said dismissively, turning away. "Prepare her, boys. Amie, get the bath ready."
The three males closed in on Aekeira, beginning to undress her. Their hands removed her clothes, while another tended to her hair, undoing the knots.
"What are you doing?" Emeriel asked, concerned.
"Getting her ready for what is to come." The older woman didn't bother to look at him. "You can either stay or leave. I care not. But if you disturb me, I will have you reported to the soldiers and thrown into the dungeon."
Numerous questions swirled in Emeriel's mind, but a shake of Aekeira's head silenced him.
He watched helplessly as they undressed her, with the younger girl, Amie, preparing a large tub filled with water.
Eventually, Emeriel decided to step out and explore, wandering the halls aimlessly. He followed one to a secluded passage that appeared hidden from casual glances.
Voices echoed in the distance, so he moved closer towards them.
"What shall we do with the boy? He was not part of the plan," one voice said.
"I do not care, Lord Ottai. Perhaps we will think of something later." Lord Vladya's voice came.
"For now, let us focus on the girl. The bad weather delayed our journey, I had expected us to return yesterday."
His voice, chilling and authoritative, Lord Vladya added. "Time is running short; she must be in the forbidden chambers tonight."
Forbidden chambers?
Emeriel didn't like the sound of that at all.
"Calm yourself, Vladya. That young girl cannot handle the beast," Lord Ottai added.
"I do not care. They have made their b*ds, and they shall lie in them," Vladya said defiantly.
A heavy sigh followed. "It would be heartless to send that girl in to service the beast without any inkling of what to expect. I know you have no love for humans, and frankly, neither do I, but we can surely do better than that," Lord Ottai reasoned.
"Do as you wish, Ottai. Tell them everything or tell them nothing. I care not," Vladya stated. "Whether she lives or dies, I care not either. I shall throw in the pretty little prince next, and if he perishes too, I shall be on the next carriage to the next human kingdom to select another princess for him. That is the only aspect of this that concerns me."
A silence fell after their exchange, leaving Emeriel's mind racing with fear and disbelief.
Service the beast? Die?
Chapter 5 YOUR PURPOSE HERE
Emeriel was horrified. I must rescue Aekeira! We need to escape!
"I know you are there, pretty prince. I can smell you," Lord Vladya's voice rang out.
Emeriel gasped, frozen in place as Lord Vladya's imposing figure emerged from the door.
Instinctively, Emeriel took a step back. Then another.
Lord Vladya smirked. "I would advise against whatever thoughts are brewing in that little head of yours. You have no inkling of where you are, do you?"
Emeriel could only discern they were in the tallest, most fortified fortress he had ever seen. He shook his head, his fear palpable.
"You are in Ravenshadow," Lord Ottai said, coming up behind the scarred Lord.
Ravenshadow?
The Ravenshadow!?
No, by the Light, this cannot be happening.
"R-Ravenshadow Citadel? The home of the f-four grand rulers of the Urekais. The Whispering Abyss of great power?" Emeriel blurted out, unable to contain his terror any longer.
Lord Ottai snorted. "That is what humans call it. We do not. But yes, you are correct. You are in the Ravenshadow Citadel, Prince Emeriel."
"You do not need me to inform you that this is the most secure place in Urai, with vast lands in which you could get lost in if you attempt to escape." Lord Vladya smirked. "A vortex that would swallow you, never to be seen again. There is no escape from Ravenshadow."
Emeriel heard their words, but his mind was consumed by a far greater fear.
"The four grand rulers of the Urekais reside here?" Emeriel mused, dreadfully.
"They do." Lord Ottai sounded mildly amused, drawing Emeriel's attention.
Emeriel had no idea he'd said that out loud.
Inching closer to Lord Ottai-He seemed the less intimidating and a preferable choice in that moment-Emeriel threw weary glances at the scarred lord. "I have heard rumors about Urekai."
"What exactly did you hear?" Lord Ottai asked.
"They are said to be deadly, unpredictable and almost feral in their actions." " Emeriel listed off on his fingers as he rambled.
"Their mating habits are said to be as brutal as their killings, and while they have bl**dhosts, they prefer to drain humans' bl**d. And, after their king ran wild, they-"
"Terrific. Just what I needed to hear," Lord Vladya added in a dry tone.
Lord Ottai, still somewhat amused, spoke up, "I will leave the briefing to Lord Vladya. I need to attend to the council."
What!? Please do not leave me with him! Emeriel almost shouted. But he bit his lips hard, restraining himself.
Lord Vladya, however, did not hold back. "Think again, Lord Ottai. There is no way I will-"
"Would you prefer Lord Zaiper handle the briefing then?" Lord Ottai asked quietly.
A muscle twitched on Lord Vladya's jaw and he gave Emeriel a hard look, as if actually considering the option.
Lord Ottai must have picked up on that, quickly adding, "You know you don't want that to happen. Besides, let us not forget the favor you owe me. Remember that?"
Lord Vladya glared at him, and Lord Ottai offered a wolfish smile. "I believe it's time to collect. You do the briefing. Off I go." With that, Lord Ottai strode away, exuding an air of sophistication with every step.
Finally, Emeriel and Lord Vladya stood facing each other.
"Come." Lord Vladya began walking, and Emeriel fell into step behind him.
"Forget whatever rumors may have spread in the human realm. Some may hold a grain of truth, but most are truly bizarre." Lord Vladya looked mildly annoyed.
"However, I will not delve into the vast knowledge of our kind, for it is too extensive to cover. Instead, I will share the parts that pertain to your sister's presence here."
Emeriel braced himself.
"Five hundred years ago, and even before that, my people and humans coexisted peacefully. Grand King Daemonikai made sure of that."
Grand King Daemonikai.
The mere mention of the name had goosebumps spreading on Emeriel's skin, knees quaking in barely-concealed fear.
One of the oldest Urekai to have ever existed, his reputation was known throughout the world, even to a child born in present times.
He wasn't just one of the four rulers, he was the very first. The ultimate ruler.
His power and strength were legendary. Some even suggested he couldn't be k*lled.
That name, Daemonikai, was one that struck terror into the hearts of every species existing in this world.
"His son, Alvin, made friends with a human prince." Lord Vladya continued. "During a conversation over a glass of champagne, Alvin, in a drunken state, told the prince the secrets of our people. The Eclipse Moon night."
"A night when the Urekai were naturally stripped of their power and strength by the moon, right?" Emeriel asked, wondering if the rumors were true. "It comes every five hundred years, rendering you lots incredibly weak. Weaker than a newborn baby. Vulnerable to attack."
The scarred Urekai stopped and eyed Emeriel, nodding before walking again.
"What Alvin didn't know was the prince's father used his son to gather information about us. King Memphis had his eyes set on our land. To make a long story short, the humans breached our defenses and attacked us on the Eclipse Moon night, inflicting significant damage upon our kingdom."
A shadow crossed Lord Vladya's eyes. "Many of our people were killed. The survival of the Urekai was largely due to the efforts of the four rulers, particularly Daemonikai." He looked distant, as if he could see that night playing out before him.
"Daemonikai exerted every ounce of his strength to save his people. Sacrificed everything he had.knowing the consequences it would bring."
Consequences?
Emeriel suddenly felt bad. The humans regarded that night as a victory. Talked about it as a great achievement. But hearing it now, it was nothing short of barbaric.
"After that night, everything changed," Lord Vlayda said. "Many Urekai lost their bondmates and children. Those who remained were hardened by the loss. Even our revenge did nothing to ease the pain in our hearts."
"Your kind almost decimated the human population, forcing many into hiding." Emeriel couldn't keep the bitterness off his tone. "The Urekai took numerous slaves and nearly depleted the human lands of their females. And it did nothing?"
As those chilling eyes once again stared at him. Emeriel snapped his mouth shut.
"Then, Grand King Daemonikai gave in to his beast and went mad. His mind was completely lost, has remained so for the past five hundred years. The very people he sacrificed everything to protect are now in danger from him." Lord Vladya turned a corner.
"The beast breaks free periodically, going on ruthless, brutal killing sprees. To prevent further loss, the beast is confined here in Ravenshadow."
Okay. that sounded like a good idea. What was the problem?
"But, confinement alone is not enough. Our inner beasts require two basic substance to survive: bl**d and s*x," Lord Vladya surveyed Emeriel with a piercing gaze. "And that is where your sister comes in."
Emeriel grew unease. He did not like where this was going.
"Princess Aekeira will fulfill the beast's s*xual needs. That is why she was acquired. As for you, since I have no use for you, both of you belong to the beast," Lord Vladya asserted firmly.
"What?" The disbelieving whisper tore from Emeriel. "Surely, y-you can't mean that."
"Tell Princess Aekeira to present to the beast. If she presents well, who knows? She might survive another day. I care little for the outcome."
Emeriel collapsed to his knees, tears blurring his vision. "Please, Lord Vladya, don't subject her to this. To be a s*xual slave? To a beast.the king's beast? My sister will die!" He screamed, his words tainted with anger.
Lord Vladya did not bat an eyelash. "Good luck trying to run away from Ravenshadow. For every attempt, you will be met with fifty lashes of the whip." With that, he turned on his heel, stridingpassed terror, and Emeriel surged after him, but the Urekai soldiers blocked his path.
"Who do you think you are!?" Emeriel screamed. "Do you consider yourself so all-powerful that you can dictate the fate of living beings!? You are nothing more than beasts! You're a monster, Lord Vladya!"
Lord Vladya halted at the doorway, casting a glance over his shoulder. "That is a compliment, human prince. And to you, it is Grand Lord Vladya."
Emeriel froze.
Grand Lord?
As in, one of the four rulers of the Urekai, that GRAND LORD!?
Holy light-gods, we're doomed.
Chapter 6 SERVING THE BEAST
The night had descended upon them.
Aekeira's face turned pale upon hearing everything from Emeriel. She had not uttered a single word in hours. Instead, tears streamed down her eyes.
Emeriel could hardly recognize Aekeira after the "treatment" Livia had given her.
Aekeira was incredibly beautiful, well-groomed, and all dressed up in that scanty piece of nothing.
He despised the purpose behind her transformation and dreaded the impending arrival of the Urekai guards, who would soon take her away.
"Let us escape," Emeriel suggested urgently. "This place is vast, and-"
Aekeira shook her head. "I cannot risk your life, Em. Grand Lord Vladya warned you about the severe consequences of attempting to escape. Moreover, if we're caught, they will undoubtedly discover your secret when they strip you down to whip you. It is simply not an option."
Emeriel approached his sister and shook her firmly. "Pull yourself together, Aekeira! You will be forced to serve a UREKAI in its BEAST FORM! One that has lost its sanity and has remained feral for over five hundred years! You cannot subject yourself to such a fate! You will die if you do this!" he screamed.
"We have no other choice!" Aekeira screamed right back, "I will not put you in danger, Emeriel. Can't you understand? You are my younger sister. Our parents risked everything to protect you, and I will do everything in my power to do the same. Not because you are a burden, but because I am your elder sister, and I love you dearly!"
Emeriel bit his lip, struggling to hold back tears. "And who will protect you, Aekeira? Who will ensure your safety?"
Aekeira's desperate arms grasped Emeriel, as she gazed into his eyes. "They must never discover you are a girl, Emeriel. Never! Neither the humans nor the Urekais must find out."
The door swung open, announcing Livia's return, accompanied by the young girl, Amie, and another group of Urekai soldiers.
"It is time. Let us proceed," Livia declared as her eyes widened. "It is inadvisable for you to touch her now. You do not want to leave your scent on her. Release her immediately."
"What do you mean? What will happen if I touch my sister?" Emeriel asked, quickly pulling away.
"The beast must not detect any other scent on her. If it smells a scent it hates, it may become even more brutal–might even tear her apart. That is why you must not touch her, Emeriel."
Livia nodded for the men to escort Aekeira out of the room, and Emeriel followed.
The journey was long and silent, involving a lot of twists and turns.
They passed by human slaves and Urekai maids within the vast fortress, but as they approached their destination, the faces grew scarce, and the surroundings became eerily quiet.
Fear and goosebumps crept over Emeriel as they entered a haunting corridor.
A strange sensation fell over Emeriel, and the silence became almost deafening. It felt as though they were walking through a graveyard.
"This is as far as we go," Livia whispered at the entrance of the hallway. You can proceed from here, Aekeira."
Emeriel ignored the head maid's words about not touching his sister and gripped Aekeira's arm tightly.
"Don't do it," he pleaded, shaking his head vehemently.
Aekeira did not turn to look at him, as she gently pulled her hand away and continued forward.
**
Back at their chambers, Emeriel began to pace.
He scratched his arm, feeling restless and irritable.
All he wanted was for his sister to remain alive until the next day.
Whether she was wounded or in pain, it didn't matter, as long as she was alive. It might have been selfish of him, but he couldn't bring himself to care.
But as he paced, Emeriel felt really, really strange.
Hot. So hot.
As if he was burning from the inside..
What happens next?
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&5&
Elliana, the unfavored "ugly duckling" of her family, was humiliated by her stepsister, Paige, who everyone admired.
Paige, engaged to the CEO Cole, was the perfect woman-until Cole married Elliana on the day of the wedding.
Tears streamed down Paige's face. "Mom, is my dream of becoming the wife of the wealthiest man truly gone?"
"Absolutely not!" Kiara's voice dripped with venom as she said, "Cole won't tolerate being trapped like this. Elliana was shoved into his life. She might not even make it through tonight."
"Once Elliana's no longer in the picture, Cole will definitely come back to you. Just hold on to your place as Ublento's top socialite. You'll be his wife eventually."
Since even those two m**ons, Kiara and Paige, had imagined Cole might arrange a widower scenario, Elliana, with her sharp mind, had certainly considered that possibility.
Even though Elliana had never seen Cole in person until today, she'd heard every tale. People described him as cold-bl**ded, even cruel.
He was the kind of man who crushed anyone who dared stand in his way.
Elliana kept her head down the entire ceremony. Once they stepped into the bedroom, Elliana sank onto the edge of the bed and stayed silent.
Cole slipped off his jacket and dropped onto the couch. His eyes locked on her.
Hours ago, she looked like a wreck--smudged eyeliner, tangled hair, makeup that aged her ten years.
But now, beneath the soft veil concealing her face, she looked ethereal in the glittering gown.
Elliana was still running through her next move in her head when Cole rose without warning and swept her into his arms.
Her heart lurch. "Mr. Evans, what. What are you doing?"
A sly smile playing at the corners of Colea's mouth. "Tell me--what do you suppose newlyweds ought to be doing on their wedding night?"
Everything tilted as he tossed her onto the b*d, his scent surrounding her completely, and she went still.
With her horrible wig and makeup, was Cole seriously able to go through with it?.
&7&
À cause de ses jambes handicapées, il se sentait abattu et déprimé. On disait, pour plaisanter, qu'une médecin de village et une personne handicapée étaient faits l'un pour l'autre. Contre toute attente, sa femme a discrètement guéri ses jambes, lui permettant de se rétablir, au grand étonnement de tout le monde. Son sourire éclatant a ravivé des sentiments qu'il croyait disparus à jamais…
=====
Au mois de mars, Shoildon était en effervescence, avec une succession de nouvelles choquantes.
La première nouvelle qui s'est répandue était qu'Isaac Bennett, le fils aîné de la famille la plus riche et la plus influente de la ville, avait été victime d'un terrible accident de voiture qui l'avait laissé paralysé des membres inférieurs.
Une autre nouvelle choquante a rapidement suivi : la prestigieuse famille Bennett avait choisi de s'allier à la famille Willis, récemment montée en puissance, par le biais d'un mariage.
Le plus grand bouleversement venait du couple lui-même -- le marié n'était autre qu'Isaac, désormais handicapé, et la mariée, la fille aînée de la famille Willis, une jeune femme élevée loin du raffinement de la ville, dans une région rurale isolée.
À des kilomètres de la ligne d'horizon scintillante, Verena Willis, dont tout le monde parlait, restait à Trisas, la région rurale qu'elle avait toujours connue.
Le son de notification d'un message entrant a rompu le silence du modeste salon où elle était assise.
Un coup d'œil à l'écran lui a permis de voir qu'il s'agissait d'un message de son assistante.
Le texte disait : « Evelyn, j'ai un patient atteint d'une maladie extrêmement rare. Ils t'attendent depuis six mois. Quand peux-tu venir l'examiner ? »
L'écran s'est éteint lorsque Verena a appuyé sur le bouton d'alimentation, ses doigts délicats s'attardant sur l'appareil. Dans ses yeux clairs, la tristesse a vacillé.
Les gens la connaissaient sous le nom d'Evelyn Rowe partout dans le monde, la guérisseuse miraculeuse, mais la renommée n'avait aucun sens lorsqu'elle ne pouvait pas sauver la personne qu'elle aimait le plus.
Sa grand-mère s'était éteinte au moment où elle avait pris son scalpel, incapable d'attendre plus longtemps.
Derrière elle, elle entendait les voix étouffées de ses parents, leur dispute filtrant à travers les murs fins de la maison.
« Laura, n'as-tu donc aucun sens du timing ? Ma mère vient à peine d'être enterrée, et tu parles déjà de partir ?! »
« Alec, l'entreprise croule sous les affaires en suspens, et la fête pour les dix-huit ans de Kaia approche à grands pas. Dis-moi, qu'est-ce qui est le plus important : une pile de travail et une grande fête de famille, ou une personne décédée ? De plus, nous avons besoin que Verena revienne en ville pour qu'elle apprenne les bonnes manières. C'est le nom Willis qui fera rire tout le monde si elle se comporte comme une campagnarde après avoir rejoint la famille Bennett ! »
« Arrête de la traiter de campagnarde. C'est ta fille ! »
« Si elle n'était pas ma fille, crois-tu que je me donnerais la peine de faire le voyage pour aller la chercher ? »
Verena a étouffé un petit rire tandis que leur dispute se poursuivait.
Les deux personnes qui se disputaient dans la pièce n'étaient pas des inconnus, mais ses propres parents, Alec Willis et Laura Willis.
Autrefois, le couple était des employés ordinaires qui avaient grimpé les échelons petit à petit jusqu'à finalement connaître le succès.
À leurs débuts, alors qu'ils avaient du mal à joindre les deux bouts, ils n'avaient pas le temps de s'occuper d'un enfant, et c'était donc sa grand-mère, Shawna Willis, qui l'avait recueillie alors qu'elle n'avait qu'un mois.
Malgré leur emploi du temps chargé, ses parents avaient toujours réussi à penser à elle de temps en temps, lui envoyant des nouvelles ou un petit cadeau quand ils le pouvaient.
Le changement dans leurs priorités avait commencé dès que leur entreprise avait pris son essor et qu'ils avaient lancé leur propre société.
À l'âge de sept ans, Verena avait eu une petite sœur, Kaia Willis, et à partir de ce jour, l'intérêt de ses parents pour elle avait commencé à s'estomper.
À mesure que la fortune des Willis s'accroissait, ils se glissaient naturellement dans les rangs de la haute société.
Laura appelait rarement, au pire, ses conversations ne portaient jamais sur la scolarité ou la santé de Verena.
En revanche, sa mère parlait sans cesse de Kaia, la petite sœur qu'elle appelait le porte-bonheur de la famille, comme si la seule mission de Laura était de se vanter de l'enfant qui leur avait soi-disant apporté la prospérité.
Lorsque Kaia a eu trois ans, ses parents sont revenus à Trisas pour leur rendre visite.
Alec a mentionné déménager avec Shawna à Shoildon, mais Verena a remarqué la raideur du sourire de Laura. Plus tard, ce que Laura a chuchoté à Alec a suffi à le faire abandonner complètement cette idée.
Peu après leur retour à Shoildon, Laura est tombée à nouveau en**inte et a donné naissance à un fils.
À partir de ce moment-là, toute leur attention s'est portée sur Kaia et le garçon. L'argent arrivait régulièrement, mais eux-mêmes sont restés à l'écart pendant quinze ans.
Si Shawna n'était pas décédée, Verena était certaine que ses parents auraient continué à les ignorer complètement.
Ce n'est qu'après les funérailles que Verena a accepté de se rendre à Shoildon avec eux.
Ils lui discutaient chaleureusement, comme s'ils étaient impatients de la voir près d'eux, mais elle comprenait ce qui se jouait réellement.
Après tout, il était facile de trouver des informations sur Shoildon en effectuant une rapide recherche en ligne.
Laura a rompu le silence alors qu'ils approchaient de la résidence Shoildon.
« Verena, n'oublie pas : si quelqu'un te pose des questions sur tes études, tu réponds que tu as obtenu un master au Collège de Médecine Acorith et que tu es sur le point de commencer ton internat. »
Dans son esprit, Laura n'avait jamais imaginé Verena autrement que comme une simple médecin de campagne. Après tout, Trisas n'était rien d'autre qu'une ville de montagne isolée à ses yeux.
Comme sa fille n'avait jamais fait d'études supérieures, du moins le croyait-elle, Laura supposait qu'elle n'avait acquis que quelques compétences simples auprès des médecins locaux.
Les quelques commentaires qu'elle avait entendus de Shawna au sujet des études de médecine de Verena lui avaient suffi pour se forger cette opinion.
Le programme de médecine d'Acorith était classé premier du pays, et Laura n'hésitait pas à utiliser son nom pour rehausser sa propre image.
Dieu lui pardonne si quelqu'un découvrait que sa fille aînée exerçait dans un coin perdu de la campagne. Cela, pensait-elle, serait humiliant.
Verena se moquait de la vanité de Laura, sachant que celle-ci ne s'était jamais souciée de vraiment la comprendre.
Ironiquement, le mois dernier, le Collège de Médecine Acorith avait invité Verena elle-même à donner une conférence à ses étudiants.
De toute sa vie, Laura ne lui avait jamais posé la moindre question sur ses études. Une fois, Verena avait manqué deux examens pour cause de maladie, ce qui lui avait valu de mauvaises notes.
Lorsque Laura avait appris plus tard que ses notes étaient mauvaises, elle avait conclu que sa fille n'était pas faite pour les études supérieures.
Même lorsque Shawna avait essayé de leur annoncer la bonne nouvelle de l'admission de Verena dans une université prestigieuse, ses deux parents avaient balayé la nouvelle d'un revers de main, évoquant des problèmes professionnels avant de mettre brusquement fin à la conversation.
Après cela, Verena et Shawna avaient cessé d'essayer de partager quoi que ce soit d'important avec eux.
Verena a jeté un coup d'œil à Laura dans les yeux et lui a dit d'un ton neutre. : « Je n'ai jamais étudié au Collège de Médecine Acorith. »
Cette franchise a fait serrer les lèvres de Laura. À ses yeux, le refus de Verena de jouer le jeu n'était pas une force, mais de l'entêtement.
Bien sûr, elle savait que Verena n'avait jamais été étudiante là-bas ; c'était justement pour cela qu'elle lui avait demandé de mentir.
Comparée à Kaia, qui n'était peut-être pas aussi belle que Verena, mais qui avait des résultats à son actif, Verena n'était qu'une source d'em**rras.
Avant qu'elle ne puisse la réprimander, la toux aiguë d'Alec depuis le siège avant l'a forcée à ravaler ses mots.
Laissant tomber le sujet, Laura a changé de ton, adoptant un ton plus doux, clairement indulgent.
« De toute façon, ta sœur a l'habitude d'être gâtée. Essaie de ne pas la provoquer, d'accord ? Elle s'énerve facilement et refuse de manger quand elle est de mauvaise humeur. »
Verena ne pouvait s'empêcher de trouver tout cela un peu ridicule. À presque dix-huit ans, Kaia se comportait encore comme une enfant choyée, incarnant parfaitement l'image d'une fille gâtée.
Leur conversation a pris fin lorsque la voiture s'est arrêtée devant une somptueuse villa qui affichait ostensiblement sa richesse.
Verena est sortie la première, admirant la façade grandiose.
Depuis l'entrée, une fille vêtue d'un joli t-shirt et d'une jupe courte s'est précipitée vers eux -- Kaia, avec toute son ardeur juvénile.
« Papa, maman, vous êtes enfin de retour ! », a-t-elle appelé, la voix de Kaia résonnait, joyeuse et enthousiaste.
Sa joie s'est estompée lorsque son regard s'est posé sur Verena. Son regard s'est attardé, scrutant cette dernière de la tête aux pieds.
Vêtue d'un simple sweat à capuche crème, d'un pantalon jaune pâle et de baskets blanches impeccables, Verena avait l'air ordinaire à première vue.
Pourtant, ses traits délicats, sa peau parfaite et son aura calme et distante lui conféraient une beauté qui ne pouvait être ignorée. Rien en elle ne laissait deviner qu'elle avait passé des années dans une campagne reculée.
Kaia savait exactement qui était cette femme : sa sœur de sang, mais les deux femmes n'avaient jamais vécu sous le même toit.
La vie à Shoildon avait fait de Kaia la petite princesse intouchable de la famille Willis, le joyau aux yeux de ses parents.
Cette réapparition soudaine d'une sœur aînée lui a procuré un sentiment subtil et désagréable dans la poitrine.
« Oh, Kaia, franchement. Comment peux-tu sortir habillée aussi légèrement ? Tu n'as pas froid ? »
Le regard de Laura s'est porté directement sur le tissu fin que portait Kaia, et elle a rapidement enlevé son propre manteau et l'a drapé sur elle.
Avec un petit rire, Kaia s'est appuyée contre sa mère. « Maman, il ne fait vraiment pas froid du tout. »
C'était une scène suffisamment chaleureuse pour faire fondre le froid de l'air, mais Verena n'avait jamais fait partie de tels moments.
Riant ensemble, Kaia et Laura sont entrées à l'intérieur, laissant Verena debout où elle était, comme si son arrivée avait déjà été oubliée.
Tandis qu'elle a marché, les yeux de Kaia ont croisé ceux de Verena pendant un bref instant, lui jetant un regard persistant et indéchiffrable par-dessus son épaule.
À la vue de sa fille cadette, l'expression d'Alec s'est adoucie, et il s'est retourné pour faire les présentations.
« Voici ta sœur, Kaia. Elle a très bien réussi. Elle a obtenu d'excellentes notes à ses examens d'entrée à l'université et a déjà obtenu une place au Collège de Médecine Acorith. »
Chapitre 2 L'insincérité de Kaia
Comme si quelque chose venait de lui revenir à l'esprit, Alec s'est interrompu.
Il s'est souvenu d'une conversation qu'il avait eue avec sa mère il y a plusieurs années, lorsqu'elle lui avait mentionné en passant que Verena n'avait jamais passé d'examen d'entrée à l'université.
Il a poussé un long soupir las. « Tu serais bien mieux si tu ressemblais davantage à Kaia. »
Verena n'a même pas pris la peine de répondre. Cette remarque était tellement absurde qu'elle l'amusait.
Ils se souvenaient de toutes les petites excentricités de Kaia, mais quand il s'agissait d'un sujet aussi important que son éducation, personne ne s'était donné la peine de lui poser des questions. Ils avaient simplement supposé qu'elle n'était pas à la hauteur.
La maison de la famille Willis semblait être un terrain étranger à Verena. C'était singulier de penser que cet endroit était censé être le sien, alors qu'elle y entrait pour la toute première fois.
Laura l'a guidée dans le couloir vers une chambre, la voix teintée d'inquiétude, et lui a adressé un sourire rassurant. « Dis-le-moi s'il y a quelque chose ici qui ne te convient pas, d'accord ? »
Verena a gardé un ton neutre. « Merci, maman. »
« Chérie, tu n'as pas besoin d'être si polie. Je suis ta mère. »
Lorsque Laura s'est attardée dans l'embrasure de la porte au lieu de partir, Verena a lancé : « Y a-t-il autre chose ? »
Laura et Alec avaient passé des années à se frayer un chemin dans la haute société, saisissant leur chance dès qu'elle se présentait.
Pourtant, ils étaient encore des nouveaux venus, et beaucoup dans ces cercles les considéraient comme des étrangers. La famille Bennett, en revanche, était une dynastie : riche, bien connectée et profondément enracinée dans le prestige.
Ainsi, Laura n'était pas prête à refuser lorsque la famille Bennett a proposé une alliance matrimoniale. Elle imaginait déjà les avantages, toutes les portes que cela lui ouvrirait.
Mais l'accident d'Isaac l'avait rendu invalide à vie, et Laura ne pouvait imaginer lui confier sa précieuse fille cadette. Elle a donc décidé de ramener son aînée à la maison.
Pendant un bref instant, Laura a ressenti un pincement de culpabilité en plongeant son regard dans les yeux calmes et déterminés de Verena.
Elle n'avait pas été là pour l'élever, et il n'y avait pas de véritable lien entre elles. La culpabilité était sincère, mais le détachement était plus fort.
Malgré tout, elle s'est dit que c'était une opportunité pour Verena.
Une fille originaire d'un petit village isolé, qui avait eu des difficultés à l'école et travaillait désormais comme médecin dans une ville tranquille comme Trisas, ne pouvait que tirer profit d'un mariage avec la famille Bennett.
Handicapé ou non, Isaac représentait la richesse, le confort et la sécurité.
« Tu dois te reposer pour l'instant, Verena. Il y a quelqu'un que je veux te présenter plus tard dans la soirée, et c'est moi qui t'y emmènerai. »
Laura n'a pas expliqué de qui il s'agissait, mais Verena n'avait pas besoin de demander.
Ce serait Isaac, évidemment.
Elle avait déjà lu des articles sur son accident sur Internet. Cette pensée lui a donné envie de rire et de secouer la tête en même temps.
Il aurait été st**ide d'attendre autre chose de ces parents. Les enfants qui grandissaient en se sentant relégués au second plan apprenaient à porter en eux à la fois de l'amertume et de la résignation.
« D'accord », Verena a simplement hoché la tête, même si son accord n'avait rien à voir avec Laura. Elle était venue à Shoildon avec un seul objectif en tête -- Isaac.
Une pensée silencieuse lui a traversé l'esprit, se demandant dans quel état il pouvait se trouver à présent.
Les lèvres de Laura se sont légèrement incurvées lorsqu'elle a constaté qu'elle n'a opposé aucune résistance. « Bien. Repose-toi, alors. Je te laisse tranquille. »
Alors qu'elle s'apprêtait à sortir, elle s'est tournée vers Verena et lui a dit : « Quand tu le verras ce soir, si quelqu'un te pose des questions sur tes études, dis-leur que tu as obtenu un master au Collège de Médecine Acorith. Ne t'inquiète pas, je m'occuperai de tout. »
Verena s'est allongée sur le lit une fois la porte refermée. Elle a remarqué un léger tremblement dans ses doigts en levant la main droite.
Six jours s'étaient écoulés depuis qu'elle avait échoué à sauver Shawna sur la table d'opération.
Le scalpel avait glissé et sa main droite n'avait cessé de trembler depuis. Pour un chirurgien, un tel tremblement était le chemin le plus sûr vers la ruine.
Son esprit était envahi de pensées jusqu'à ce que le sommeil l'envahisse, l'entraînant dans un rêve troublant.
Dans une autre pièce, Kaia était allongée sur le canapé, son téléphone s'illuminant de messages de discussion de groupe. Tout le monde voulait savoir : sa sœur était-elle belle ?
Cette question a gâché l'humeur de Kaia. Dire que Verena était jolie semblait être un euphémisme. Même vêtue simplement, elle avait une beauté qui attirait et retenait le regard.
Son teint était lisse, sans imperfections, presque trop raffiné pour quelqu'un qui avait passé des années dans un coin reculé.
À côté d'elle, Kaia se sentait comme la fille d'à côté : douce et inoffensive, mais dépourvue de véritable charme.
Les questions continuaient d'affluer, alors Kaia a finalement répondu. « Pas mal, elle n'est pas moche. »
Elle savait que cette réponse était un mensonge éhonté, mais les mots lui avaient échappé instinctivement.
À présent, tout le monde à Shoildon avait entendu parler du mariage imminent entre la famille Bennett et la famille Willis.
Les jeunes gens riches de la ville étaient curieux de connaître la femme qu'Isaac, autrefois un homme à l'avenir prometteur, allait épouser.
Voyant la réponse tiède de Kaia, le groupe s'est tu.
Pas moche. C'était le genre de phrase qui laissait entendre que la femme était au mieux ordinaire. Pauvre Isaac, ont-ils pensé.
Parmi ceux qui lisaient, il y avait Bobby Bennett, le jeune frère d'Isaac.
Un juron acéré s'est échappé de ses lèvres avant qu'il ne se tourne vers sa mère, Danica Bennett.
« Maman, je comprends que les jambes de mon frère ne soient pas en très bon état. mais est-ce que cela signifie que tu dois lui trouver quelqu'un qui ne peut rien faire ? Kaia dit que sa sœur n'est pas vraiment attirante. »
Cette remarque a frappé Danica comme un coup de poignard. Comme toute mère, elle voulait que son fils trouve une épouse digne de lui.
Pourtant, l'état d'Isaac allait bien au-delà de ses jambes blessées. Certains aspects de sa santé en tant que l'homme avaient été définitivement endommagés.
En tant que matriarche des Bennett, elle ne pouvait pas laisser les rumeurs sur la famille devenir incontrôlables.
La solution la plus sûre était de choisir une épouse qui ne représentait aucune menace : Verena Willis, la fille aînée de cette famille.
« C'est ma décision, et t'as rien à dire », a-t-elle répliqué d'un ton froid.
Bobby a serré les mâchoires de colère.
Imperturbable, Danica s'est détournée, elle a commencé à monter l'escalier, sans chercher à apaiser sa colère.
Elle venait de recevoir un message de Laura lui demandant d'organiser une rencontre entre Verena et Isaac ce soir-là.
Entrant dans la chambre faiblement éclairée d'Isaac, elle s'est dirigée sans hésiter vers la fenêtre et a tiré les rideaux.
La lumière crue du jour s'est répandue sur le sol, chassant la pénombre.
Isaac était allongé sur le lit, les yeux dans l'ombre mais sans ciller, le visage toujours aussi anguleux.
Sachant qu'il était réveillé, Danica a annoncé sans détour. « Tu vas rencontrer une fille ce soir. Et tu vas l'épouser. »
« Si c'est le plan, pourquoi perdre du temps avec une rencontre ? Il suffit d'enregistrer le mariage, c'est tout », a répondu Isaac d'une voix indifférente.
Un mélange de compassion et d'indignation tacite bouillonnait dans la poitrine de Danica. Personne en dehors de la famille ne savait que l'accident avait non seulement coûté la santé d'Isaac, mais aussi la vie de son mari.
Avec son fils dans cet état, elle n'osait pas annoncer la mort de son mari, craignant que cela ne perturbe la stabilité de l'entreprise.
« Ne te dispute pas avec moi à ce sujet. Il est normal de la rencontrer d'abord. »
Quand elle a quitté la pièce, les ombres ont semblé se refermer à nouveau sur Isaac. La douleur et le dégoût de soi ont obscurci son regard.
Dans son esprit, la mort de son père était un fardeau qu'il porterait toujours.
Au crépuscule, Verena a été réveillée par quelques coups frappés à la porte avant qu'elle ne s'ouvre. C'était Kaia.
D'un ton oscillant entre une gaieté forcée et une condescendance à peine voilée, Kaia a déclaré : « Verena, tu es sur le point d'entrer dans la famille Bennett par alliance. Félicitations. C'est la famille la plus influente de Shoildon. »
Ses années d'études à l'étranger avaient aiguisé l'instinct de Verena, et le manque de sincérité de Kaia était évident.
Un seul regard lui a suffi pour comprendre que Kaia ne l'aimait pas.
En silence, Verena a continué à plier sa couette, attendant patiemment d'entendre la suite de ce que Kaia avait à dire.
Chapitre 3 Elle n'est pas assez bien pour toi
Comme Verena restait silencieuse, Kaia a poursuivi : « La famille Bennett a peut-être une bonne réputation, mais Isaac est déjà handicapé. On dit que lorsqu'un homme est paralysé des jambes, ses fonctions se**elles sont souvent affectées. Honnêtement, je ne veux pas que tu te maries dans cette famille. »
Même si ses paroles semblaient inquiètes, Kaia espérait en réalité que Verena ne fasse pas partie de la famille Bennett.
Malgré les problèmes de santé d'Isaac, il restait quelqu'un dont Kaia avait autrefois pris soin. Et si Verena l'épousait, sa vie serait sans aucun doute meilleure que celle de Kaia.
Verena a compris exactement ce que Kaia essayait de faire, alors elle a répondu franchement. « Si tu ne m'aimes pas, ce n'est pas grave. Tu n'as pas besoin de faire semblant de t'inquiéter parce que. »
Verena s'est interrompue au milieu de sa phrase lorsqu'elle a vu la surprise dans les yeux de Kaia, puis elle a continué comme si de rien n'était : « Le sentiment est réciproque. Je ne t'aime pas non plus. »
Cette vérité brutale a laissé Kaia momentanément sans voix. Elle n'avait pas imaginé que Verena déchirerait si ouvertement sa fausse inquiétude.
Ce n'est qu'après que Verena a quitté la pièce que Kaia a retrouvé sa voix. Elle a tapé du pied de colère avant de rétorquer : « Pour qui te prends-tu ? Tu es tellement arrogante ! Tu n'es qu'une plouc venue d'un coin paumé. »
Verena avait seulement atteint le seuil de la porte. Entendant l'in**lte, elle s'est retournée, est restée juste à l'extérieur et a fait face à Kaia.
« Tes parents viennent de ce même coin paumé. Dois-je leur faire savoir que tu penses que tous ceux qui viennent de là-bas sont des ploucs ? »
Ces mots ont figé Kaia sur place. Le regard perçant et inflexible de Verena lui donnait l'impression que toutes ses pensées cachées avaient été dévoilées.
Son aversion pour Verena s'est intensifiée. Cette fois-ci, cependant, elle n'a pas répondu et est partie en claquant la porte.
Kaia venait de descendre l'escalier lorsque Laura est apparue devant Verena.
Une ombre a assombri l'expression de Laura.
Verena pouvait deviner la raison. Kaia a dû courir la voir, prétendant avoir été victime d'intimidation de la part de sa sœur aînée.
« Qu'as-tu dit à Kaia ? », a demandé Laura d'un ton acerbe et accusateur, comme si elle avait déjà pris le parti de Kaia. De toute évidence, elle n'avait pas envisagé qu'il puisse y avoir une autre version de l'histoire.
Verena avait du mal à tolérer un jugement aussi aveugle.
Avec un sourire moqueur, elle a demandé : « Et qu'est-ce qu'elle t'a dit ? »
« C'est moi qui te pose les questions ! », a crié Laura.
La question de Verena l'a mise hors d'elle, convaincue que le fait que sa fille aînée a grandi dans un coin perdu de la campagne avait privée celle-ci de bonnes manières.
« Elle m'a traitée de plouc, alors je lui ai rappelé que si c'était vrai, alors toi et papa seriez aussi des ploucs, puisque vous avez tous les deux grandi au même endroit. »
« C'est ridicule ! Kaia ne dirait jamais quelque chose d'aussi irrespectueux ! », la colère de Laura s'est intensifiée.
« C'est déjà assez grave que tu aies mis ta sœur en colère, mais maintenant tu inventes des mensonges, hein ? Tu as du culot, Verena. »
Tout cela semblait absurde à Verena. Laura la pressait de lui donner une réponse, mais refusait de la croire lorsqu'elle la lui donnait. Laura ne voulait-elle entendre que ce qui correspondait à son opinion ?
Verena n'était pas du genre à reculer et avait tendance à provoquer davantage les gens.
Le refus de Laura de la croire l'a poussée à répliquer : « Si tu as déjà décidé que je mens, alors tant pis. Tu crois Kaia quoi qu'il arrive. Mais tu n'obtiendras jamais d'excuses de ma part. Si je pose un tel problème, je retournerai à la campagne et laisserai Kaia épouser Isaac elle-même. »
Elle savait exactement ce que Laura cherchait à obtenir et s'en est servie pour la faire taire.
« Toi ! », Laura était sincèrement provoquée, mais elle a retenu sa colère, se rappelant la véritable raison pour laquelle elle avait amené Verena à Shoildon.
Elle ne comprenait pas pourquoi ses filles étaient si différentes. Kaia était accomplie et douée pour la parole, elle savait toujours la convaincre.
Verena, en revanche, était banale, têtue et malhonnête. Les années qui les séparaient lui donnaient l'impression d'être une étrangère.
« Rassemble tes affaires. Tu viens avec moi à la réunion. Et change-toi. Je vais demander à l'une des domestiques de t'apporter une tenue. »
La décision de Verena de venir à Shoildon n'avait rien à voir avec ses parents injustement partiaux. Dès qu'elle avait vu les informations, elle avait reconnu Isaac.
Elle se moquait de s'habiller pour le voir. Alors, quand elle est descendue, elle portait exactement les mêmes vêtements qu'avant.
Laura, qui attendait en bas de l'escalier, avait l'air visiblement mécontente. « Pourquoi tu ne t'es pas changée ? »
« Je n'en ai pas envie », a répondu Verena d'un ton nonchalant.
« Toi. » Laura n'a pu que la fusiller du regard, sa patience s'amenuisant.
Elle s'est rendu compte que Verena n'était pas aussi soumise et facile à contrôler qu'elle l'avait supposé.
Mais pour l'instant, sa priorité était de conclure le mariage avec Isaac.
« D'accord, d'accord. Si tu ne veux pas te changer, alors partons. ».
Dans le groupe de discussion des jeunes gens fortunés, Bobby continuait à poser des questions à Kaia.
« Kaia, quel genre de travail fait ta sœur ? »
Même s'ils faisaient partie du même groupe, Kaia n'avait généralement pas beaucoup de raisons de parler à Bobby.
Ses pensées se sont bousculées dès qu'elle l'a vu lui adresser la parole en premier.
Ne voulant pas que Bobby se sente ignoré, elle a rapidement répondu : « Ma mère m'a dit qu'elle travaillait comme médecin dans une petite ville. »
Bobby a légèrement froncé les sourcils. Un médecin ? Si c'était vrai, alors elle pourrait au moins s'occuper de son frère. En suivant ce raisonnement, il a accepté à contrecœur l'idée que Verena n'était pas attirante.
Kaia savait que sa mère avait prévu de faire croire que Verena était diplômée d'un master du Collège de Médecine Acorith.
Kaia avait consacré des années d'efforts pour entrer au Collège de Médecine Acorith et gagner l'admiration des gens, alors l'idée que Verena récolte une telle reconnaissance sans avoir travaillé pour l'obtenir l'irritait.
Avec une pointe de malice, Kaia a pris un air désinvolte et a ajouté : « Mais elle n'a jamais fréquenté l'université. Elle a probablement juste appris quelques trucs auprès des médecins locaux. »
« Quoi ?! Elle n'est même jamais allée à l'université ? », a-t-il hurlé, la surprise de Bobby était évidente.
Le titre de « docteur » lui semblait désormais suspect.
Bobby était de plus en plus irrité. Isaac était diplômé de l'une des universités les plus prestigieuses au monde. C'était déjà assez pénible d'épouser quelqu'un de peu attirant, mais en plus, elle était peu instruite.
Incapable de se retenir plus longtemps, Bobby a envoyé un message à Isaac. « S'il te plaît, ne te marie pas avec Verena Willis. Elle n'est pas assez bien pour toi. Sa sœur m'a dit qu'elle n'était même pas allée à l'université. Mis à part son apparence, elle n'a pas beaucoup d'éducation. »
Isaac était assis dans une salle privée du Restaurant Spice, où il attendait déjà.
Le cadre était élégant et apaisant.
Cependant, ni Isaac ni Danica n'étaient d'humeur à profiter de la vue depuis la fenêtre.
Pour Danica, cette rencontre n'était qu'un simple accord commercial.
Pour Isaac, elle ne faisait que lui rappeler ses propres défauts.
Lorsque son téléphone a sonné, Isaac a jeté un œil au message de Bobby. Son visage aux traits marqués est resté impassible.
Danica a aperçu également le message de Bobby.
Elle a fermé les yeux un instant avant de dire : « Isaac, ne m'en veux pas, s'il te plaît. Je n'ai pas d'autre choix. »
Dans son esprit, le seul moyen de mettre fin aux rumeurs préjudiciables à son sujet était qu'il se marie et adopte discrètement un enfant, en le faisant passer pour le sien.
Les lèvres d'Isaac ont esquissé un sourire amer. Le ressentiment était un luxe qu'il ne pouvait pas se permettre. À ses yeux, c'était lui la raison pour laquelle sa mère avait perdu son mari.
Malgré tout, Isaac a envoyé une réponse à Bobby. « Surveille ton ton. »
Bobby a senti la colère monter en lui lorsqu'il a lu cela. Dans un moment pareil, Isaac continuait à lui dire d'être poli. Isaac comprenait-il seulement le véritable problème ?
À ce moment-là, Verena et Laura sont arrivées au Restaurant Spice.
Verena était grande et portait des chaussures plates ; Laura, chancelante dans ses talons hauts, devait se dépêcher pour suivre son rythme.
Chapitre 4 Exposer quelque chose à vendre
Tout en marchant, Laura a murmuré à Verena : « Personne n'a besoin de savoir que tu n'as jamais dépassé le niveau secondaire. Dis-leur simplement que tu es diplômée du Collège de Médecine Acorith. Voilà l'histoire. Compris ? »
Verena n'avait aucune envie de la déranger avec une réponse.
Une fois arrivées dans la salle réservée, Laura a arrangé ses cheveux et lissé ses vêtements tandis que Verena levait la main et frappait à la porte.
Dès que Danica a entendu quelqu'un frapper à la porte, elle a su que la fille aînée de la famille Willis était arrivée. C'était le mariage qu'elle avait personnellement arrangé.
À présent, alors qu'Isaac s'apprêtait à rencontrer Verena, ses émotions se bousculaient en elle.
Il y avait eu un temps où Isaac était sa plus grande fierté.
Si cet accident n'était jamais arrivé, il se tiendrait aux côtés de la femme la plus accomplie, et non d'une personne sans grande instruction.
Des pensées contradictoires tiraillaient Danica. Elle ne supportait pas l'idée que d'autres puissent mépriser son fils, mais elle détestait la famille Willis pour avoir troqué l'avenir de leur fille contre de l'argent.
« Entrez », a ordonné Danica d'une voix qui ne laissait place à aucune hésitation.
Verena a tourné immédiatement la poignée et est entrée dans la pièce.
Les yeux de Danica et d'Isaac se sont immédiatement posés sur elle.
Verena était vêtue simplement, d'un sweat-shirt ample et d'un pantalon confortable. Ses cheveux étaient attachés en arrière, mais quelques mèches tombaient sur son front.
Son maquillage minimaliste ne modifiait en rien ses traits, mais sa beauté était impossible à ignorer.
Même parmi les femmes les plus élégantes de Shoildon, elle aurait attiré l'attention. Elle se tenait avec une assurance tranquille qui rendait sa présence difficile à ignorer.
Pendant une fraction de seconde, Danica s'est contentée de la regarder, le regard empreint de surprise et d'admiration.
Isaac, quant à lui, a froncé les sourcils.
« Alors. tu es de la famille Willis ? »
Les mots de Danica étaient empreints d'une pointe d'incertitude, et Laura s'est avancée derrière Verena.
Avec un sourire enthousiaste, elle a répondu : « Bonsoir, Danica. C'est moi. Laura. »
Elle a guidé Verena vers l'avant avec un sourire radieux. « Voici ma fille, Verena Willis. »
Le regard surpris de Danica était impossible à manquer, et Laura a ressenti une vague de satisfaction.
Verena avait les traits d'Alec, et ce visage valait la peine d'être montré. Cela réconfortait Laura de savoir que sa fille aînée avait encore des qualités qui la rendaient fière.
« Verena, c'est ça ? », a murmuré Danica.
Elle a observé la beauté saisissante de la jeune femme et l'assurance qu'elle dégageait.
Rien en elle ne correspondait à l'affirmation de Bobby selon laquelle elle n'était « pas vraiment attirante ». Si cela était considéré comme peu attirant, alors Shoildon n'aurait plus aucune belle femme.
Une lueur de satisfaction a traversé les yeux de Danica. Elle était soulagée de constater que la femme ne correspondait pas à la description peu flatteuse de Bobby.
Elle voulait toujours une belle-fille facile à contrôler et qui ne divulguerait pas les problèmes d'Isaac au l*t, mais elle espérait aussi que la jeune fille ne serait pas laide.
L'apparence était importante, et quiconque se mariait dans la famille devait avoir l'air de l'appartenir.
Laura a ressenti une vague de fierté en voyant la satisfaction sur le visage de Danica.
Verena était sa propre fille, et en matière d'apparence, elle surpassait facilement les femmes les plus élégantes de Shoildon.
« Oui. Danica, voici Verena », a répété Laura chaleureusement.
« Asseyez-vous, je vous en prie. », la voix de Danica s'est légèrement adoucie.
Pendant que les deux mères échangeaient des remarques polies, l'attention de Verena s'est portée sur Isaac, assis en face d'elle.
Il portait une simple chemise noire et était assis dans un fauteuil roulant, une couverture légère drapée sur les jambes.
Isaac a serré les doigts sur ses genoux en voyant son regard se poser sur ses jambes, mais son expression est restée impassible et distante, comme si son regard n'avait aucune importance.
Verena n'a montré aucun signe de malaise lorsque leurs regards se sont croisés. Au contraire, elle lui a adressé un sourire serein.
Même en fauteuil roulant, il était exactement comme dans ses souvenirs. Il était cool, inflexible et imposant.
Alors qu'ils se regardaient, Danica a fait signe à Laura et Verena de s'asseoir.
Laura a fait l'éloge de Verena comme si elle décrivait un joyau rare, soulignant ses mérites au cas où Danica aurait des doutes.
Danica était entièrement satisfaite de ce qu'elle voyait.
Pourtant, elle ne pouvait s'empêcher de trouver quelque chose de désagréable dans la façon dont Laura poussait sa fille vers l'avant.
Cela ressemblait moins à la présentation d'une future mariée qu'à la mise en avant d'un objet à vendre.
En réalité, les jambes d'Isaac étaient déjà en mauvais état, et même si la famille Bennett restait riche et influente, il n'était pas le meilleur choix pour un mari.
En rabaissant autant la position de Verena, Laura donnait l'impression qu'elle se moquait que sa fille soit méprisée ou maltraitée, tant que le mariage avec la famille Bennett avait lieu.
Pour Danica, il était difficile de respecter une telle mère.
Verena et Isaac ne disant pratiquement rien, c'était à Danica et Laura qu'il incombait de poursuivre la conversation.
Après plusieurs minutes de bavardage, Danica a fini par demander à Verena : « Mme Willis, ta mère m'a dit que tu avais un master au Collège de Médecine Acorith. C'est vrai ? »
Ce détail importait à Danica. Avoir un médecin dans la famille rendrait les soins prodigués à Isaac beaucoup plus faciles à gérer.
Laura s'est raidie dès que la question a quitté les lèvres de Danica. Elle craignait que Verena ne s'obstine à nier, alors elle a discrètement donné un petit coup de coude à sa fille sous la table.
Laura pensait que personne ne le remarquerait, mais Danica et Isaac ont tous deux vu le mouvement.
Une légère ride s'est formée entre les sourcils de Danica, tandis que le regard froid et impassible d'Isaac est resté inchangé.
Levant la tête, Verena a posé ses couverts d'une main ferme et s'est essuyé doucement la bouche avec une serviette avant de répondre : « Non. »
Sur ce, le visage de Danica a perdu un peu de sa chaleur et l'expression de Laura a brusquement changé.
Intérieurement, Laura était furieuse. B*n s**g, Verena était toujours aussi rigide. Pourquoi ne pouvait-elle pas réfléchir rapidement ? Était-elle obligée de l'embarrasser ainsi ?
Sa colère était sur le point de déborder, mais elle s'est forcée à la contenir et à trouver un moyen de sauver la situation.
Avant qu'elle ne puisse expliquer, Verena a ajouté : « Je suis diplômée de l'Université de Pine Hill. »
Les yeux de Laura se sont écarquillés et son visage a subi plusieurs changements.
L'Université de Pine Hill était l'une des institutions les plus prestigieuses au monde, et cette révélation l'a laissée momentanément stupéfaite.
Verena, en revanche, est restée imperturbable, son expression ne laissant transparaître aucun signe de perturbation.
La frustration de Laura a failli déborder. Elle avait toujours su que Verena avait grandi dans un milieu moins raffiné, mais elle ne s'attendait pas à ce qu'elle soit aussi audacieuse dans ses inventions.
Prétendre avoir obtenu un diplôme du Collège de Médecine Acorith était déjà exagéré, mais maintenant elle osait dire qu'elle était diplômée de l'Université de Pine Hill ?
Quoi, Verena pensait-elle vraiment que les gens ici croiraient une telle chose ? Son mensonge n'avait aucune crédibilité.
La surprise de Danica se lisait dans ses yeux. Son regard est passé de Verena au visage tendu et inquiet de Laura, et à cet instant, quelque chose a fait tilt. Cette prise de conscience a creusé davantage les rides de son front.
Isaac a continué à fixer Verena, qui lui a répondu par un autre sourire doux. Il était chaleureux, accueillant et portait en lui la fraîcheur du début du printemps.
Ce simple sourire a illuminé l'humeur d'Isaac d'une manière qu'il ne pouvait expliquer.
Il s'est rapidement détourné, les sourcils froncés, envahi par une étrange vague de gêne, non pas parce qu'elle était exceptionnelle, mais parce que sa gentillesse le faisait se sentir petit d'une manière inhabituelle.
« Fréquenter l'Université de Pine Hill est certainement impressionnant. Tu dois être très talentueuse », a déclaré Danica d'un ton froid et détaché.
Les diplômés de l'Université de Pine Hill figuraient parmi les personnes les plus douées au monde, et les qualifier simplement de talentueux ne leur rendait pas justice.
Laura a compris que Danica avait déjà compris le mensonge, mais elle s'est forcée à continuer.
« Ha-ha, oui, c'est très impressionnant. J'ai dû me tromper. en confondant cela avec l'école que Kaia fréquentera. »
Cet échange a plongé la table dans un silence gênant.
Sans plus hésiter, Danica a déclaré : « Je suis très satisfaite de Verena, et je suis sûre qu'Isaac l'est aussi. En ce qui concerne le contrat de mariage. »
« Maman », a interrompu Isaac, l'empêchant de terminer.
Chapitre 5 Je veux t'aider
Danica a lancé à Isaac un regard perçant qui contenait un avertissement silencieux.
N'ayant prêté aucune attention à son regard, Isaac a dit : « J'aimerais parler en privé avec Mme Willis. »
Comme Isaac avait pris la parole, Danica s'est abstenue de tout autre commentaire.
Elle connaissait déjà ses intentions. Si seulement il voulait bien coopérer. Il prévoyait très probablement de convaincre Verena de se retirer.
Avec une lente expiration, Danica a gardé son sang-froid. « Il semble qu'Isaac veuille parler en privé avec Verena et en savoir plus sur elle. Laura, sortons un instant, d'accord ? »
Elle comprenait que Laura était impatiente que ce mariage ait lieu.
Les paroles de Danica ont servi de subtile incitation à Isaac pour qu'il n'interfère pas avec l'accord.
Cette réponse a pris Laura au dépourvu. Elle ne s'attendait pas à ce que Danica se montre aussi indulgente après le mensonge scandaleux de Verena.
Satisfaite, Laura a répondu : « Oui, ils ont besoin d'un peu d'intimité. »
Elle a donné une petite tape sur l'épaule de Verena, sa voix teintée d'une note de prudence. « Verena, n'oublie pas de prendre soin d'Isaac. C'est ton fiancé maintenant. »
Verena a levé son verre pour boire une gorgée, un léger sourire se dessinant sur ses lèvres.
Son aversion pour Laura n'avait pas changé, mais l'idée qu'Isaac soit son fiancé lui procurait un frisson discret.
Lorsque les deux femmes sont sorties, Isaac a lancé. « Mes jambes sont désormais inutiles. Elles resteront ainsi pour le reste de ma vie. »
Sa voix grave et légèrement rauque trahissait quelqu'un qui n'avait pas beaucoup parlé depuis longtemps, et son ton froid et détaché la rendait presque dénuée d'émotion.
Pourtant, Verena a compris que ses paroles étaient un avertissement, destiné à lui rappeler le genre d'homme qu'elle s'apprêtait à épouser.
« Quoi d'autre ? », a-t-elle demandé, ses yeux clairs fixés sur lui comme un miroir qui reflétait tout.
Isaac a hésité. Sa gorge s'est serrée, une ombre est passé dans son regard alors qu'il pensait à la vérité tacite.
Puis il s'est forcé à la révéler. « Je ne peux plus fonctionner comme un homme normal. Je ne peux pas te rendre heureuse ni t'offrir une vie de couple normale. »
Isaac a compris que les intentions de sa mère allaient au-delà de vouloir faire taire les ragots ; elle espérait également stabiliser la position de l'entreprise.
Malgré tout, aucune de ces raisons ne justifiait de lier une femme à lui par le mariage. Devenir sa femme signifierait renoncer à son propre bonheur et à son avenir.
Dans son esprit, il était déjà un homme ruiné ; il n'était pas nécessaire d'entraîner quelqu'un d'autre dans sa chute.
À ces mots, Verena a fait le tour de la table jusqu'à se retrouver juste en face de lui.
De là où il était assis, Isaac devait lever les yeux pour croiser le regard de ceux qui l'entouraient.
Verena s'est accroupie pour pouvoir le regarder à son tour.
C'était la première fois depuis l'accident qu'Isaac n'était pas obligé de lever les yeux vers quelqu'un.
« Puis-je toucher tes jambes ? », a demandé Verena.
Il n'y avait aucune hésitation dans sa voix. Ses yeux clairs ne reflétaient aucun jugement ni aucune réticence, comme si elle s'adressait à n'importe quel autre homme et non à un homme paralysé des membres inférieurs.
Contrairement au reste de sa famille, elle ne traitait pas ses blessures comme un sujet tabou.
Depuis l'accident, tous les membres de sa famille qui le regardaient avaient dans les yeux de la pitié et du regret.
Ils ne le disaient pas à voix haute, mais leurs regards en disaient long. Il était infirme, n'étant plus un homme complet.
La plupart des gens savaient que la paralysie entraînait souvent une perte de la fonction se**elle, et il ne faisait pas exception.
Des rumeurs sur son corps s'étaient répandues, et la cruelle vérité était qu'elles correspondaient à la réalité.
La blessure qu'elles lui avaient infligée était plus vive et plus suffocante que n'importe quelle l**e plantée dans la po**rine.
Isaac a fixé Verena d'un regard profond. « Te rends-tu compte de ce que tu dis ? »
Elle a hoché la tête, le regard déterminé. « Oui, je m'en rends compte. »
Ils étaient des étrangers jusqu'à cet instant, mais Isaac ressentait un étrange sentiment de familiarité en la regardant.
Il ne pouvait pas expliquer pourquoi. Poussé par son instinct, il a accepté. « D'accord. »
Une fois son consentement obtenu, les yeux de Verena se sont courbés en un sourire doux et sincère.
Pendant un bref instant, la concentration d'Isaac a vacillé.
Lorsque ses doigts se sont posés sur sa jambe, il a pu voir le mouvement, mais n'a ressenti aucune sensation.
Il a suivi du regard ses doigts fins qui ont commencé à remonter lentement depuis son genou.
Pour un observateur extérieur, ce geste aurait pu ressembler à une tentative de sé**ction, mais Isaac savait qu'il n'en était rien.
Il était paraplégique, complètement impuissant et insensible en dessous de la taille.
Sa main s'est arrêtée sur sa cuisse, tapotant légèrement avant qu'elle ne lève les yeux. « Tu sens ça ? »
Isaac a légèrement secoué la tête.
Elle a repris son geste, se rapprochant petit à petit de la base de sa cuisse, jusqu'à ce qu'Isaac réagisse instinctivement et attrape sa main.
« Qu'est-ce que tu essaies de faire ? », sa voix était teintée d'avertissement.
Verena a eu un petit rire et a retiré sa main sans résistance.
« Isaac, je veux t'aider. »
« M'aider ? », a-t-il répété d'un ton moqueur. « M'aider à faire quoi exactement ? »
« Je veux t'aider à guérir tes jambes. »
Cette déclaration a résonné comme un coup de tonnerre dans l'air calme.
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&5&
厲行淵第一次性、癮發作，稀裡糊塗跟江晚檸睡了。
後面的三年裡，他不曾表白，卻對她的身體極度痴迷。
江晚檸以為時間久了，能捂熱他的心，卻等來了他跟學妹談戀愛的消息。
“追了她好久，總算答應做我女朋友。”男人看著她的眼睛:“以後我們別聯繫了。”
後來，江晚檸如他所願，消失的無影無蹤。
可厲行淵卻後悔了，滿世界瘋找她。
男人卑微地跪在她面前，懇求道:“晚檸，回到我身邊好不好？”
*
“本次UFC格鬥比賽，厲行淵再次奪得中量級冠軍……”
電視裡報道著男人奪冠瞬間。
此刻厲行淵正將江晚檸壓在身、下。
“輕點……”江晚檸太清楚厲行淵的體力。
每回大型比賽結束，他都會瘋地折騰她。
窗外漸漸泛起光亮，江晚檸累得快要散架，感受到男人退了出去。
她總覺得厲行淵這次比以往做的都狠。
“今天走之前把鑰匙留下，以後不用過來了。”
男人冷不丁的一句話，讓江晚檸瞬間睏意全無。
“小姑娘答應當我女朋友了。”厲行淵眼裡帶著溫柔的笑意，“你放在這裡的衣服首飾記得全都帶走，她看到會不高興。”
他遞過來一張黑卡，丟到她身上。
“這三年辛苦了。”厲行淵嗓音淡淡：“晚檸，你今年也25了，沒考慮找個合適的人踏實過日子？”
江晚檸呆呆點頭，心底泛起密密的痛。
“結婚記得跟我經紀人說，給你包個大紅包。”厲行淵精神的不像是一夜未睡。
他穿好衣服，精心給自己搭配了一條領帶，“你們女孩子都喜歡什麼花？”
“玫瑰？”江晚檸回答。
“俗不可耐。”厲行淵輕嗤一聲，“棠棠跟你不一樣，她這麼難追，性格清高倔強，肯定不喜歡這麼俗的花。”
說完，他不等江晚檸再說什麼，走出了房間。
“嘶……”
江晚檸雙腿發軟從大床下來，腿肚子直打顫。
走進浴室，她看著鏡子裡身上斑斑點點的痕跡，無奈輕嘆。
原來，已經跟了厲行淵三年。
他們是青梅竹馬，一起長大。
高考完的那個暑假，她鼓足勇氣想表白，厲行淵熟練地勾住她的肩膀：“今天我媽問我，咱倆是不是在戀愛。真搞笑，我跟你熟得跟哥們似的，戀什麼愛啊！”
後來，江晚檸報了離家很遠的舞蹈學院，大學四年，兩人只有寒假碰個面。
保研名額下來，她跟同學喝的爛醉，而那晚的厲行淵在比賽前夕被對手下、藥。
他們意外睡了。
醒來後，他說會負責：如果到25歲雙方都沒有遇到喜歡的人，那就在一起。
江晚檸腦子一熱，答應了。
從此，他們不正經的關係便開始了。
厲行淵是競技格鬥職業選手，平時運動量大，那方面的需求更大。
江晚檸在一個月後，才知道厲行淵患上了性、癮。
原來，那天他被下的藥不是一次就能徹底紓解的。
每隔一星期，就會發作一次。
厲行淵嘗試通過運動來發洩，可效果甚微。
於是，她便成了他搓圓捏扁的工具。
如今她這個工具也到了該離開的時候。
因為厲行淵半年前來學校接她時，無意中撞見了北舞這一屆的新生，許棠棠。
小姑娘今年十九歲，年齡嬌嫩，模樣更是嫩的能掐出水。
厲行淵一下子對許棠棠著了魔。
追求手段軟硬兼施，可小姑娘卻不買賬。
許棠棠穿著一身洗到發白的長裙，帆布鞋有些開膠，模樣清冷倨傲：“別再來煩我，行嗎？我才不要當你這種好色之徒的金絲雀。”
這股子倔強的勁兒，非但沒讓厲行淵退縮，反而更令他抓心撓肝。
以至於那段時間性、癮發作，他寧願拿著許棠棠的照片發洩，也不願意跟江晚檸、做。
江晚檸一覺睡到下午，被一通來電吵醒。
是江媽媽打來的。
“喂，媽。”
“寶貝。”江母聲音從聽筒中傳來：“你霍阿姨的兒子醒了！”
“硯青哥哥……醒了？”
江晚檸眸光一亮，繼而思索道：“媽，我的畢業證還有七天就能領了，您之前不是一直想在澳洲定居嗎？七天後我跟你一起過去。”
江母驚訝道:“那……行淵怎麼辦？他願意異國戀嗎？”
“我們分手了。”江晚檸蒼白一笑。
她一直沒敢告訴母親，其實她和厲行淵從未確認過戀愛關係。
“乖女兒，不傷心，你還年輕，以後總會遇到對的人……”江母長嘆道:“你訂好機票告訴我一聲，我們儘快去澳洲看望硯青。”
“好。”
通話結束，江晚檸的唇角露出一抹淺淺的笑。
霍硯青年長她四歲，一直把她當親妹妹照顧，比她認識厲行淵還要早。
以前厲行淵只要撞見她跟霍硯青在一起玩，總愛陰陽怪氣。
六年前霍硯青跟隨母親移民到了澳洲，出車禍成了植物人。
醫生說醒來的幾率微乎其微。
沒想到，醫學奇蹟還是在霍硯青身上出現了。
江晚檸立刻洗漱好，穿戴整齊，將這棟別墅裡有關於自己的東西帶走。
她拖著行李下樓，看見厲行淵帶著一個清純可人的女孩走進來。
三人視線相撞。
“她、她是這裡的住家保姆……”厲行淵對許棠棠急忙解釋。
許棠棠的目光落在了江晚檸脖子上的口勿痕，語氣難掩失望，“學姐，你一直是我特別仰慕的優秀舞者，原來背地裡出賣肉體。”
江晚檸一時無言。
許棠棠轉頭看向厲行淵：“厲先生，別忘了我們目前是戀愛關係，我永遠不會像學姐一樣墮落到出賣自己的身體。”
“你還在考察期，要是敢隨便碰我，我們就立刻分手。”
“棠棠，別生氣，你跟她不一樣。”厲行淵握住她的手，“你是我女朋友。”
許棠棠驕矜地別開臉，直勾勾盯著江晚檸手中的水晶獎杯。
她往前走了一步，腳下踉蹌，身子搖搖欲墜撲向江晚檸。
‘哐當——’
水晶獎杯砸在瓷磚上的破碎聲響起。
第2章 他的偏袒
只見，江晚檸手中的水晶獎杯碎的四分五裂。
碎渣飛濺的到處都是。
“對、對不起……”許棠棠傻了眼，立刻蹲下去撿那些玻璃渣，“嘶。”
厲行淵立刻將人拉起來，疼惜地看著她冒著血珠的指尖，“你撿碎玻璃做什麼，一會兒我叫傭人打掃乾淨就行了。”
“是我的錯。”許棠棠包含歉意地看向此刻臉色煞白的江晚檸，“學姐，真的抱歉，我不小心把你的飛燕杯給弄碎了。”
‘飛燕杯’對於學古典舞的人來說，是至高無上的榮譽。
而此刻，這份屬於江晚檸的榮譽成了一地碎渣。
一旁的厲行淵聽到飛燕杯三個字，眉頭微蹙。
他忘不了當初江晚檸拿到這個獎杯時，高興的又哭又笑，一整晚嘰嘰喳喳在他耳邊唸叨。
他不懂舞蹈，但作為一名格鬥運動員，知道獎項是一種肯定。
“學姐，我真不是故意的……”許棠棠雙眸含淚，作勢要蹲下再去撿玻璃渣。
下一秒，她的領子被江晚檸揪住。
‘啪’地一聲。
清脆的耳光落在許棠棠白皙的臉頰上。
鮮紅的手指印觸目驚心。
偌大的客廳內氣氛一時凝結。
“裝什麼無辜？”江晚檸努力告訴自己要理智，可看著滿地狼藉，還有方才許棠棠故意往她身上撞的畫面，氣血直衝頭頂。
“是不是故意的，調監控不就知道了？”
聞言，許棠棠的眸中快速閃過一抹心虛。
“夠了！”厲行淵擋在許棠棠的面前，眼眸森冷地看著江晚檸：“不就是一塊破玻璃，你獲得的榮譽又不會因為獎杯碎掉就消失了。有必要這麼咄咄逼人嗎？”
“……”
江晚檸怔愣地盯著面前的男人，心臟像是被黑網纏裹住，快要無法呼吸。
“棠棠不是故意的，你別得理不饒人。”
厲行淵疼惜地看著許棠棠紅腫的臉蛋，抬手便要落在江晚檸的臉上。
他閉了閉眼，懸空的手慢慢收回，警告道：“以後再敢動她一下，我絕不饒你，滾。”
江晚檸眼眶發熱，鼻子酸酸的。
她深吸一口氣，拖著行李箱大步離開。
外面不知何時下起了大雨。
江晚檸狼狽地走在雨幕中，想起十四歲時，厲行淵為她打架的場景。
那天她拿到了人生中第一個重要比賽的冠軍，她抱著獎杯回家，被醉酒的大漢撞到。
獎杯碎在地上，醉漢罵罵咧咧地一腳踹開。
厲行淵一拳砸在對方的鼻樑上。
那晚，他揹著哭唧唧的她走回家，連夜將碎掉的獎杯重新粘合好。
江晚檸至今都忘不掉他滿眼血絲，驕傲地把獎杯遞到她手中，說：你檢查下，絕對看不出半點破碎的痕跡。
曾經那麼珍惜她榮譽的人，如今卻為了一個女孩，不惜想打她……
回到在校外租的公寓，江晚檸已經渾身溼透。
她不幸發起高燒，在家躺了兩天。
‘叮——’
門鈴響起。
不等江晚檸去開門，就聽到一陣腳步聲逼近。
她虛弱地抬眸，看見厲行淵居高臨下俯視著她，那雙陰沉沉的眸子近在咫尺。
下一秒，江晚檸被一股巨大的力道掐住脖子。
“告訴我，你到底把棠棠關在哪兒了！”
第3章 讓你母親屍沉大海
“咳咳，咳……”
江晚檸的脖子被掐住，喘不上氣，彷彿下一秒就要窒息而亡：“我不知道……”
“快說！”厲行淵鬆開手，又扯著她的頭髮警告：“真是小瞧你了，居然還敢綁架棠棠。”
“我沒有綁架她！”江晚檸的雙眸直視著男人的眼睛，“啊——”
身子倏地騰空，厲行淵將她扛在肩上，徑直走出去。
砰地一聲。
江晚檸被丟進車後座。
她不知道車子開去哪裡，只覺得車速極快。
漸漸地，江晚檸聽到陣陣海浪聲。
漆黑的海面，一艘巨大的遊輪格外矚目。
厲行淵從駕駛座下來，粗暴地將江晚檸從後備箱裡拽出，拖著她走向沙灘。
“媽……！？”
江晚檸不敢置信地看到甲板上，雙手雙腳被捆住的母親，瞬間臉色煞白。
“唔唔！”江母的嘴被封住，無助地看著江晚檸。
“你可以不告訴我棠棠在哪裡，但你的母親可要吃些苦頭了。”
說完，厲行淵衝甲板上的下屬打了個手勢。
“唔！”
只見江母被人塞進麻袋裡，封口處系上繩子，直直拋向了海面。
嘩啦！
巨大的浪花濺起，麻袋隨著甲板上的人的動作時不時浮出海面，又再次沉入水中。
“厲行淵，你這個瘋子！”江晚檸揪住男人的衣領，“許棠棠的失蹤跟我沒有任何關係，我母親做過肺部手術，你這是要她的命……”
說到後面，她的聲音已然帶了哭腔。
“和你沒關係？”厲行淵輕嗤一聲，“綁架她的那兩人，以前跟你一起排練過校慶節目。棠棠落在便利店的手機裡還有你威脅她的聊天記錄！”
說著，他將許棠棠的手機拿出來，上面赫然是‘江晚檸’和許棠棠的對話。
【他只是一時對你新鮮，你最好自覺離開，否則別怪我不客氣。】
【好好當你的窮酸丫頭，別做飛上枝頭變鳳凰的美夢。】
【你要是不跟厲行淵提分手，我會讓你永遠消失。】
“不是我發的。”江晚檸死死咬緊牙關：“你為什麼就確定是我綁架了她！厲行淵，算我求你，把我母親放了！”
厲行淵微眯起眸：“因為我知道，你對我的心思。”
“……”江晚檸眉心一跳。
“我早就知道你喜歡我，現在我有了心愛的女孩，你就視她為眼中釘！”
厲行淵咬牙切齒道：“江晚檸，沒想到你是這種蛇蠍心腸的女人，我警告你，就算沒有許棠棠，我也不會愛上你！能不能別死皮賴臉纏著我了？趕緊告訴我她在哪兒！”
“我不知道！”江晚檸崩潰地喊道。
她不管不顧地衝向海面，身子被厲行淵撈住。
“不說是吧？行，那今夜就讓你母親屍沉大海！”
說完，厲行淵抬頭對下屬命令道：“剪斷麻袋上的繩子。”
“不——”
江晚檸驚恐地瞪大眼睛，大腦一片空白。
她想要上前阻止，身子卻無法動彈。
只見那條連接著甲板的繩子被剪短，麻袋驟然被海水淹沒。
“媽，媽——”
江晚檸的眼淚瞬間湧出，她抓住厲行淵的手，一口咬在他的手腕上。
血腥味瞬間蔓延進口腔。
這時，一名下屬匆匆走來。
“厲總！我們找到許小姐了！”
厲行淵眸光一亮，“她在哪兒，快帶我過去！”
一時間，所有人都跟著厲行淵離開了。
江晚檸疾步衝向大海，跳入水中。
夜晚的海水寒冷刺骨，她被冰的呼吸一窒，仍舊奮力地遊向海里。
不知遊了多久，江晚檸終於看到了那個麻袋。
她拼勁了全力，累到雙腿發軟，總算將裝著江母的麻袋拖到了沙灘上。
“媽，你不要嚇我……”
江晚檸雙手顫抖地解開繩子，一眼看到滿臉慘白，閉著雙眼失去意識的江母。
她沒敢耽擱，立刻呼叫了急救電話。
到達醫院，江晚檸精神恍惚地看著母親被送進搶救室。
第4章 被打耳光
她抱住瑟瑟發抖的自己，一遍遍在心裡祈禱。
三小時後，手術室的門被推開，醫生說江母已經脫離了危險，但肺部感染嚴重，還需要觀察幾天。
江晚檸滿眼憂心，跟著護士一起將母親送到病房。
她守在床邊，幾乎是一夜沒閤眼。
翌日，江母總算醒了，“晚檸，行淵他為什麼這麼做？這孩子好歹也是我看著長大的，他怎麼能……”
“媽，對不起。”江晚檸很是自責，“都是我不好，之前我騙了你，其實我沒有跟厲行淵談戀愛。我和他……”
她看著母親的眼睛，終究還是沒能啟齒。
江母愣住，心裡已然有了個模糊的答案，“你、你這個傻孩子……”
江晚檸不敢去看母親的雙眸，淚水在眼眶裡不斷打轉。
“不哭了，這種男人根本配不上我女兒！”江母疼惜地撫摸著女兒的臉頰，“沒事，我們還有四天就離開這裡了。以後不再跟那個混、賬有半點瓜葛！”
“嗯。”
江晚檸抽泣道。
這時，病房門被人推開。
只見厲行淵快步走來，神色凝重地問：“江晚檸，你要去哪兒？”
“滾出去！”江晚檸用力推搡著對方：“你把我媽害得還不夠慘是嗎？你還有臉來！”
厲行淵沒有刨根問底，目光看向江母：“阿姨，我是來向您道歉的。我對你本人無惡意，只是江晚檸找人綁架了我的女朋友，我不得不這麼做。”
說完，他轉身離開。
第二天，江晚檸下樓買早餐時，一眼就看到許棠棠推著輪椅，站在噴泉池附近。
輪椅上坐著一個頭髮花白的老人，“棠棠，你那個男朋友要付我的醫藥費，我聽了你的話，給拒絕了……”
“外婆，你做的很好。”許棠棠輕笑一聲：“他喜歡的就是我身上這股倔強又清高的性格，放長線才能釣大魚。“
“眼前捨棄的只是小錢，厲行淵現在不務正業，他早晚要告別格鬥生涯，回去繼承家產。等我當上厲太太，我們就不用過苦日子了。”
說完，她察覺到身旁的視線，目光和江晚檸撞上，“學、學姐……”
江晚檸沒有停下腳步，兀自往前走，卻被許棠棠抓住了手腕。
“外婆，她就是我經常跟您提到的那位很優秀的學姐。”許棠棠興沖沖地介紹道：“學姐，這是我外婆。”
“你想勾搭厲行淵，都隨你，請別再來招惹我。”江晚檸甩開對方的手。
“學姐，對不起啊。”許棠棠冷不丁地道歉：“我昨天只是想試探一下自己在厲先生心中的重量，沒想到會給你造成這麼大的傷害，你母親還好嗎？”
聞言，江晚檸咬牙切齒道：“你還有臉問？”
“對不起嘛。”許棠棠睜著無辜的大眼睛：“我真不知道厲先生如此在意我的安危，不惜拿你母親的命做威脅……”
“閉嘴！”江晚檸握緊拳頭，竭力忍耐著怒意。
下一秒，她的手被許棠棠用力攥住，強行碰在輪椅上。
江晚檸來不及思考，就看見面前的輪椅重心不穩，猛然側翻進了旁邊的噴泉池。
許棠棠的外婆一頭跌進水裡。
“啊——”許棠棠驚慌地尖叫起來，“外婆，外婆！”
刺耳的叫聲瞬間吸引來不少人。
從遠處正走過來的厲行淵見狀，眼疾手快將倒在水池中的老人扶起來。
許棠棠看著外婆額頭上鮮血直流，哭得泣不成聲：“學姐記恨昨晚的事，故意把我外婆往水裡推……”
話落，她噗通一聲，跪在江晚檸的面前。
“學姐我錯了。”許棠棠吸了吸鼻子：“你有怨氣衝我來，不要對一個八十多歲的老人撒氣，外婆是我唯一的親人了，我答應你，以後會離厲先生遠遠的……”
聞言，厲行淵臉色驟變：“江晚檸，你找死！”
啪——
清脆的耳光落在江晚檸的右臉。
圍觀的人群發出唏噓聲。
江晚檸只覺得臉頰又疼又麻，很快第二個巴掌又落了下來。
“相識這麼多年，我從來都不知道你的心腸這麼歹毒！”厲行淵像是氣得不輕，滿眼失望，“給棠棠和她外婆道歉！”
“沒傷害任何人，我憑什麼道歉？”江晚檸恨恨地看著厲行淵，心如死灰：“有什麼證據是我推的？她說什麼你都信，厲行淵，你早晚會知道自己有多可笑。”
她的心彷彿已經痛到麻木。
以前怎麼會眼瞎喜歡上這種人？
“我叫你道歉，沒聽見嗎？”厲行淵目光幽冷。
江晚檸抬手便要扇在男人臉上，手腕被他拽住。
“厲先生，快帶我外婆去包紮傷口……”
一旁許棠棠柔柔弱弱地說道。
厲行淵蹙眉，把江晚檸推開，將老人輕輕放在輪椅上。
江晚檸腳下踉蹌，差點摔在地上。
這時，一個戴著鴨舌帽的女生舉著手機走過來。
“你好，我剛才拍vlog的時候，無意中的角度剛巧拍到了那女生故意抓著你的手去碰輪椅。這個視頻你要不要？”
第5章 汙衊
江晚檸眸光一凜，感激地望著對方：“謝謝，麻煩你傳給我。”
她拿出手機，接收了對方傳送過來的視頻。
視頻中，的確拍攝到了許棠棠抓住她的手，去推輪椅的畫面。
江晚檸把視頻拷貝進U盤，並將東西寄給了厲行淵的經紀人。
她給對方發去一個物流單號，並留言：裡面是我給厲行淵準備的生日禮物，麻煩在他生日那天轉交，謝謝。
回到病房，江晚檸因為臉頰還紅腫著，特意戴上了口罩。
江母問起來，她謊稱有點感冒。
‘嗡——’
手機響起。
是她讀研時的導師發來的消息：晚檸，麻煩來學校一趟，校慶彩排我想聽聽你的意見。
江晚檸找來護工照看母親，立刻趕到學校。
走進彩排的禮堂，江晚檸率先看到的是許棠棠。
小姑娘穿著絢麗的舞服，可憐楚楚地站在舞臺中央。
“校慶節目我策劃了三年，還從未有過臨時加塞的情況。”
孔老師頗為不滿地看著許棠棠。
“我知道你底子不錯，但這已經是我們第四輪彩排了，半路殺出來你的獨舞節目……”
“孔老師，這是校董事會的決定。”
一旁的系主任勸說道：“好了，棠棠的舞蹈也就兩分鍾，不會造成太大影響。”
“……”孔老師面露不悅，轉頭看到匆匆趕來的江晚檸。
江晚檸衝她點頭致意。
“老師，您看我不順眼就直說。”
許棠棠咬著唇，“要論臨時加節目，您最在行了，迎新晚會那天，晚檸學姐的獨舞不就是您做主加上的嗎？”
“你——”孔老師氣結，“晚檸那晚是救場，你胡說什麼？”
“許棠棠，你不分青紅皂白就給我潑髒水，是覺得有靠山就能無法無天了？”江晚檸微眯著眼，“你別玩火自焚。”
“……”許棠棠的目光停留在禮堂門口進來的那抹身影上，又很快收回。
她貼在江晚檸耳畔，輕聲說：“學姐，今天我聽醫生說你母親因為嗆水，肺部都纖維化了，以後是個短命鬼……”
轟隆！
江晚檸只覺得頭頂炸開一道驚雷，她的眼前是許棠棠近在咫尺的獰笑。
幾乎是下意識的，她抬手狠狠推開了對方。
“啊——”
驚呼聲響徹在偌大的禮堂。
只見許棠棠嬌弱的身子從三米多高的舞臺上跌入臺下。
與此同時，走在校長身旁的厲行淵倏地停住腳步。
男人面色煞白，震驚地看著許棠棠額角磕出的血窟窿，繼而目光緩緩向上，陰冷無比地盯著臺上的罪魁禍首。
“江晚檸，你給我等著。”
說完，厲行淵打橫抱起許棠棠，快步離開。
“……”
江晚檸的腦子嗡嗡的，心裡如同有一根緊繃的弦。
她渾渾噩噩地走出學校，剛踏出校門，就被兩名厲行淵身邊的下屬強行塞進車裡。
——完蛋了。
江晚檸心如擂鼓。
想到厲行淵的那一句‘你給我等著’她就不禁打起寒顫。
車子行駛進別墅內。
江晚檸被人從車裡拽出來，帶到厲行淵的面前。
男人雙腿交疊坐在沙發上，手裡握著一根黑色皮鞭。
“江晚檸，你好大的膽子，敢推棠棠。”說著，他緩緩起身，揮起手中的皮鞭抽在江晚檸的背上。
第6章 他性、癮犯了
“唔……”江晚檸瞳孔驟縮，只覺得背上火辣辣的痛。
厲行淵面色不改，抬起手準備落下第二鞭時，動作頓住。
他看向幾名下屬:“你們都出去。”
幾人迅速離開。
偌大的客廳內只剩下江晚檸和厲行淵。
男人難耐的呼吸聲響起。
江晚檸渾身一僵，對視上他迷離渙散的眼神。
眼前的狀況她再清楚不過！
過去的三年裡，她經歷過太多次厲行淵性、癮發作的情況。
每次她都會準時出現在他的身旁，成為他紓解的工具。
正想著，江晚檸就被厲行淵急不可耐地壓在身、下。
“滾！別碰我！”江晚檸推搡著他的胸膛：“犯什麼貝戔？你不是有女朋友嗎？我給許棠棠打電話，叫她過來。”
“棠棠太純了，我捨不得碰。”厲行淵炙熱的口勿密密麻麻落了下來，“晚檸……”
親口勿到記憶中熟悉的唇瓣，厲行淵如同久旱逢甘霖一般，越口勿越深。
“王、八蛋！放開我！”江晚檸使出渾身力氣去推他，一腳踹在他的襠部。
厲行淵吃痛地悶哼一聲，體內彷彿有無數個蟲子在啃噬他的神經，只有觸碰到江晚檸時，才能緩解。
這些天許棠棠連個口勿都吝嗇於給他，以前跟江晚檸在一起時，他想做什麼，她都會配合。
“江晚檸，你裝什麼貞潔烈女，這不就是你想要的嗎？”厲行淵輕蔑道，“你一次又一次針對棠棠，不就是想讓我跟你在一起，現在給你表現的機會來了，你今晚好好伺候……”
‘啪！’
江晚檸一巴掌甩在厲行淵的臉上。
厲行淵攥住她的手，輕車熟路地探入江晚檸的裙襬.
這時，臥室門被人從外打開——
只見站在門口的許棠棠滿臉震驚地看著屋內的情景，一雙漂亮的大眼睛蓄滿了淚。
“不，不是的……棠棠你聽我說。”厲行淵立刻跟江晚檸保持距離，頓了頓，他厭惡地看著癱在地上的女人，“江晚檸，你真長本事了，居然還敢給我下、藥！滾！”
“……”
聞言，江晚檸胸口一悶，指甲狠狠陷進掌心裡。
她麻木地穿好衣服，快步衝了出去。
走之前，她聽見厲行淵卑微地對許棠棠說：“棠棠，你別生氣，我現在就去洗澡，保證身上沒有半點那個貝戔人的氣息……”
江晚檸嘴角扯出一抹嘲弄的笑。
她的心臟像是被密密實實的黑網束縛住，疼得她喘不上氣。
馬上就會離開這裡……
厲行淵帶給她的一切痛苦都會終結。
後面幾天，江晚檸一直在醫院陪母親做治療，她將兩人要帶走的行李仔細整理好。
翌日清晨，她去學校領取了畢業證。
手機備忘錄彈出提示：五天後是厲行淵的生日，準備禮物。
江晚檸目光冷淡，刪除了手機裡所有關於厲行淵的一切。
她拖著行李，和母親去往機場的路上，出租車裡的電臺正在播報：本次UFC格鬥比賽即將在曼谷舉行，我們有幸採訪到此次參賽的明星選手厲行淵……
車子抵達機場。
江晚檸登機的前一刻，拿出手機正要關機，就看見陌生號碼發來的短信。
【江晚檸，之前的事我跟你道歉，我允許你以後繼續在我身邊，但不能讓許棠棠發現，我們還跟以前一樣。我給你訂了一張飛曼谷的機票，明晚來酒店找我。你知道的，我比賽前必須確保性、癮不會發作。】
江晚檸看著這行字，輕嗤一聲。
她拔出電話卡，丟進垃圾桶裡。
飛機開始滑行，穿越雲層…….
接下來會發生什麼？
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&1&
She screamed, "I hate you!" Shattered by her husband's misunderstanding, her friend's betrayal, and the agony of a miscarriage, she left. Unexpectedly, a powerful tycoon extended help. She returned driven by vengeance, getting back at the scum who had wronged her and clearing her name.
=====
"Good evening. I'm here for Mr. Joel Asante. Is he around?" Thalassa said to the lady at the front desk of the Astoria H**el.
She felt so tense that she didn't realize she was tapping her fingers loudly on the desk until a woman standing beside her hissed and glared at her.
Flashing an apologetic smile, Thalassa brought her gaze back to the receptionist, who was done checking the appointment.
"Yes, he is. And he's expecting you. Suite 13. Take the elevator to the seventh floor and turn to your left."
"Thank you." Thalassa said as she turned to go, her unease increasing with every step she took towards the elevator.
Why did she feel like something was amiss?
She had been sent to meet this Joel Asante by her mother in law, Linda Miller.
Linda Miller had never liked Thalassa since she began dating her son, Kris Miller, and the dislike had increased even more since Kris and Thalassa got married a year ago.
So today when her mother in law had called her and told her to deliver some documents and have it signed if she wanted to earn her approval, Thalassa hadn't hesitated one bit.
Maybe if she managed to earn her mother in law's approval, then Kris would finally go back to being the man she knew.
Her ringing phone cut through her thoughts. Thalassa quickly answered when she saw that it was her best friend, Karen Blade.
"Lassa, are you going to do what your mother-in-law asked of you?" Karen asked.
"Yes." Thalassa answered. "I'm at the hotel now. But Karen, I don't know why I feel like there's something off."
Karen blew out a breath of exhaustion. "Lassa, I already told you that you're overthinking things. Linda wants you to do something so simple in order to earn her approval. Don't overthink it."
Lassa smiled. "You're right."
Just as they ended the call, the elevator dinged, slowly parting its doors. Thalassa stepped out, heading to her left like the receptionist had said.
Reaching the door with number 13 on it, she pressed the doorbell.
After some seconds, she was about to press it again when the door suddenly opened to reveal a half-n**ed man. He was only wearing blue shorts, leaving his upper body b**e.
Thalassa grimaced slightly as she spoke. "Mr. Joel Asante?"
"At your service." The man flashed her a smile that was surely meant to be charming. "And you must be Thalassa Miller. Please come in."
Thalassa slowly stepped into the suite's living room. The man pointed at the couch.
"Please take a seat."
She hesitated, wanting to remind him that she was just here for his signatures, but when she remembered her mother-in-law telling her not to annoy the man, she slowly sat down.
"What can I offer you? Cha**agne, w**e, b**r?" The man asked.
"I'd like nothing, thanks," Thalassa answered, gritting her teeth. She just wanted him to sign already so she could leave.
And why wasn't he attempting to put on a shirt?
"Oh, come on. Surely, just a glass of w**ne won't hurt, will it?" The man insisted.
This time, Thalassa didn't bother to hide her glare. "I'm sorry, but I'm just here so you can sign these documents."
She pulled a folder from the handbag she'd brought along with her, handing it over to the man. "My mother-in-law, Linda Miller, said that you already know what the documents contain."
The folder was sealed, and Thalassa herself didn't even know what was in the documents. Her mother-in-law had warned her not to open it, so she hadn't dared to, not wanting to annoy her.
"Hmm." The man hummed as he took the folder from Thalassa and unsealed it, walking around the room as he looked through the document.
Lassa shifted. She felt uncomfortable, especially since the man was still sh**tless. And why did she feel like he was deliberately delaying?
Five minutes later, just as she was getting more impatient, the doorbell rang.
The man immediately went to open the door, and a second later, her husband, Kris Miller, stormed into the room.
"Where is she?" He demanded in a tone that was too low and not to be dangerous, his eyes hardening when he finally saw Thalassa.
Thalassa instantly shot to her feet. "Kris, you're here."
She felt relieved. Maybe Kris could finally handle things from here.
She walked towards Kris, wanting to hug him, but just as she got close, he placed his hand on her ch**t, causing her to stumble backwards.
"Kris." Lassa stared at him in shock.
Before she could say anything else, Linda Miller, her mother-in-law, suddenly entered the room, the usual disgust on her face as she stared at Thalassa.
"You traitor. After everything my family has done for you, this is how you repay us?"
Before Thalassa could even think, a hot s**p was delivered to her cheek. Thalassa clutched her cheek, staring at her mother in law in shock.
"Mrs. Miller.what.what are you talking about?"
Linda Miller scoffed. "Don't you dare try to act like you don't know what I'm talking about. Since you and my son got married a year ago, you've been stealing property from us, embezzling millions from our company with the help of this man who's obviously your lover."
Thalassa's head spun. What was happening?
"But.but mother-in-law, you were the one who sent me here. You sent me to have this man sign some documents. So what are you talking about?"
She turned to look at Kris, her heart squeezing at the accusing look in his eyes.
"Kris, I don't know this man, I promise. I haven't even met him before. Please believe me. Your mother was the one who sent me here to give some documents to him to sign."
"You're so shameless. You dare try to implicate me?"
Linda said, then turned to Kris, who still had a stoic expression on his face as he stared at Thalassa. "Son, why don't you go and see what's inside those documents?"
Kris walked towards Joel and snatched the folder from his hand. His face darkened when he read more of the documents.
When he finally looked up at Thalassa, his gaze was even colder than before. So cold that she felt frozen.
Her desperation shooting through the roof, she forced herself to move towards him and took the folder from his hands. Her hands trembled as she read parts of the documents.
It was all about discreetly moving money to overseas bank accounts and everything that was obviously fraudulent.
Thalassa's eyes burned with tears as she shook her head. She finally realized what was happening. She'd been set up. Her mother-in-law had set her up!
"Kris, I didn't know what documents were in the folder, I swear!" she declared, trying to grab his hand, but he jerked it away.
"Your mother told me not to unseal it, so I didn't. Please, you have got to believe me. I would never-"
"Sh*t up!" Kris snapped, startling her into silence. "Sh*t the f**k up! Enough with your lies!"
He stepped closer, glaring into her eyes. "Just when I think you can't disappoint me any further, you make me realise that you're much worse than I thought. You disgust me."
His words were like a s**p, leaving Thalassa stunned. Just as her mind was still struggling to process everything, she heard her mother-in-law call out, "Come in, officers."
Thalassa's eyes widened as two police officers walked into the room. She looked at Kris. Surely, he wouldn't allow for her to be arrested like some common criminal, would he?
She got her answer a second later when Kris coldly declared, "Officers, take them away."
Chapter 2
Tears streamed down Thalassa's face as one of the officers stepped behind her and took her hands, placing her wrists in cuffs.
She stared pleadingly at Kris, hoping he would realize his mistake and save her from this humiliation, but he merely stared at her with nothing but coldness as she was led out of the room.
As if this humiliation wasn't enough, when they got outside, several reporters instantly rushed towards her, flashing cameras as they came.
"Thalassa, is it really true that you married Kris Miller all for his money?"
"How do you feel after your theft was discovered?"
Thalassa had never felt this humiliated in her life, with people staring at her and reporters asking all sorts of questions as she was led into the police car.
"Wait! Please, this is a mistake. I'm innocent. You've got to believe me," she pleaded with the police officer who led her into the holding cell.
The officer laughed as he locked the gate to the cell. "That's what they all say. You really should've thought twice before messing with a woman like Linda Miller."
Still laughing, he walked off. More tears streamed down Thalassa's face. She'd known that her mother-in-law had never liked her, but to hate her much, to construct such a plot against her?
Her eyes scanned the room and its cold, barren walls before settling on the bed that looked like it had seen better days. This was where she was-a place meant for criminals.
Her heart broke a million times over as she sank onto the bed. How could Kris have done this to her?
She wasn't going to deceive herself into thinking that her marriage had been perfect before this. It had been far from it.
While they were dating, Kris had been the perfect gentleman, always putting her needs first.
He'd gone against his own mother and his family members when they disapproved of their relationship, and the reason was that Thalassa was from a lower class.
He'd even warned reporters and tabloids who'd insinuated that she was a goldigger. He'd been the perfect man.
But all that changed once they got married. Kris transformed into a completely different person.
From the man who always treated her like a queen, he turned into a man who made her cry almost every night with his coldness.
It tormented her all the more because she couldn't understand what could've possibly made him change so much.
To top it off, she'd had to deal with the humiliation from his family members, being treated like a servant in their family home. That was what her life had been like for the past year.
Still, she never would have expected Kris to allow her to be arrested and humiliated like some common criminal. It hurt even more because she was carrying his child.
Lassa sniffed as she placed her hand over her belly. She was pr**nant, but Kris didn't know about it.
She'd found out yesterday, and she'd wanted to tell him, but he hadn't come home in the past two days, and he never bothered to answer any of her calls.
The only person she'd told was Karen, her best friend. Aside from her, no one else knew.
"Don't worry, baby. It's all going to be alright, I promise," she said to her belly, even though she knew it was probably still a clot of bl**d since she was only two months pr**nant.
"Your father is going to realize his mistake any moment now, and he's going to apologize, and everything is going to be alright. You'll see."
The next three days in the holding cell were the most agonizing days of Thalassa's life. Kris never came to get her out or apologize. In fact, nobody came to visit her.
She'd demanded several times for the one phone call she knew she was entitled to, but it was always denied. They hadn't even given her a chance to call a lawyer.
Thalassa had no doubt that this was all Linda Miller using her influence. Was the woman truly intent on having her jailed for something she never did?
On the evening of the third day, Thalassa was lying on the prison bed, crying silently to herself, when she suddenly heard the sound of the prison cell being unlocked.
She quickly sat up, her eyes widening with hope as she saw Mr. Sawyer, Kris's family lawyer.
"You're lucky that the Miller family decided to drop the charges. You're being released," the officer said.
Thalassa's heart leapt with joy. Finally, Kris had realized his mistake. He was surely going to apologize for not trusting her earlier. Everything was going to be alright.
"Thank you so much," she said to the lawyer as she wiped her tears. "But where.where is Kris?"
She stepped outside of the cell, looking down the hallway to see whether Kris was standing anywhere there, but he was nowhere in sight.
"Kris didn't come with me," the lawyer clarified. "He merely sent me to drop the charges and have you released."
Thalassa's heart sank, but she quickly smiled. Kris was probably too busy; that's why he couldn't come, but he was obviously waiting for her at home.
Everything was going to be fine, she assured herself again.
The lawyer began walking to the main station, so Thalassa followed.
The cops had taken her handbag and her phone yesterday, so she was led to sign some documents to finally have her things back.
Once she was done, she turned to the lawyer. "Didn't Kris send a chauffeur? Or are you going to be driving me home?"
The lawyer looked at her. "That's one thing I wanted to talk to you about."
Thalassa's heart skipped a beat. "What about?"
Without answering, the lawyer brought out some papers from his bag and handed them over to her. Thalassa's heart sank as she stared at the words boldly written on top of the first page.
DIVORCE AGREEMENT.
Chapter 3
Thalassa's hands shook as her eyes repeatedly ran over the bold words: DIVORCE AGREEMENT.
Agreement? She certainly didn't remember sitting down to talk about anything. This surely had to be a mistake.
She turned her panicked eyes to the lawyer. "Is this a joke?"
"I don't remember 'comedian' being in my job description, Miss Thompson," the lawyer said, sounding offended.
"Then what is this?" Thalassa demanded, her voice louder than she intended, laden with frustration.
The lawyer's nostrils flared as he looked around at the people staring at them. "It's exactly what you're looking at, Miss Thompson. Kris wants a divorce."
Thalassa noted how he kept referring to her by her maiden name, as if she and Kris were already divorced.
The lawyer took a step closer. "Look, don't make this complicated. You're lucky to be walking away with just a divorce, or you could've spent several years rotting in jail. You should be thankful to Kris that he convinced his mother to drop the charges."
Just like that, Thalassa felt hope spark inside her. Kris had convinced his mother to drop the charges.
That could only mean that he loved her. There was definitely an explanation for all this.
Mr. Sawyer drew a pen from his bag.
"Here, please take the pen and sign the papers. There's no alimony because Kris said you can keep the millions you stole into your offshore accounts. All you have to do is sign at the required spots, and he'll have your belongings delivered to wherever you want."
Before the lawyer could finish speaking, Thalassa had turned and begun storming out of the police station.
Reaching the roadside, she quickly waved her hand at an approaching cab.
The car stopped in front of her, and she didn't waste time entering. "The Miller mansion," she instructed the driver. She still had the divorce papers in her hand, and her heart pounded as she stared at them.
It couldn't be true. This had to be another one of Linda Miller's schemes to separate her and Kris. She wasn't going to believe it until Kris himself told her that he wanted a divorce.
When the driver stopped outside the Miller mansion, she reached into her bag and pulled out some dollar notes. Not caring how much it was, she tossed it at the driver and got out.
She was just about to enter through the gate when a burly security guard stepped in front of her.
"You can't go in," he said gruffly.
Thalassa glared at him. "What do you mean I can't go in? This is my house! I'm Kris's wife!"
"I know that. But I've been given orders by Mrs. Miller not to let you in."
Of course, it was Linda Miller's orders.
Thalassa roughly ran her fingers through her hair, feeling like she was going insane. Without a second thought, she ran past the security guard onto the mansion's compound.
"Hey, I told you you can't go in!" the man hissed, running after her, but his speed was no match for Thalassa's desperation as she ran on and finally entered the house.
The Miller family was all gathered in the living room, but Kris was nowhere in sight. All of them turned to look at her disdainfully before storming towards her.
"What are you doing here, you thief?!" Cynthia, Kris's aunt, demanded.
"This b**ch really has some guts!" Tyler, Kris's younger brother, scoffed.
"I'm going to drag her out by her hair!" Susan, Kris's younger sister, gritted out.
"Ma'am, I tried to stop her, but she just ran past me," the security guard said as he appeared behind Thalassa, grabbing her by the arm.
"It's okay. Let go of her arm," Linda Miller said as she finally stopped in front of Thalassa.
The rest of her family also stopped behind her, their eyes blazing like vultures, waiting to tear Thalassa to shreds.
"You are a shame to show your face here after what you did to my son and our family," Linda sneered, her voice dripping with disgust.
Anger shot through Thalassa as she snapped. "I did not do anything, and you know it! You were the one who sent me to meet that man. Why are you doing this? Why are you lying?"
Her voice broke, which only increased the pleasure on her mother-in-law's face.
"My son wants nothing to do with you anymore, Thalassa, so you have no business being here. Get out of here."
"You're nothing but a snake! I am not leaving until I speak to Kris!" Thalassa stated firmly, glaring back at her.
"Don't speak to my mother like that," Kris's harsh voice sounded as he approached.
Thalassa immediately ran towards him, holding up the divorce papers.
"Kris.your lawyer.he came to me and gave me these papers. He said you wanted a divorce, but I know it's got to be a mistake. It's all a mistake, right?"
Kris stared coldly into her eyes as he answered, "There's no mistake."
Thalassa stumbled back, shaking her head in disbelief.
"Kris.please, you can't. Let's save our marriage. All this is a misunderstanding. I didn't do anything. Please, you've got to believe me."
"Do you really still believe that I want to continue being with a woman like you? You don't even have the decency to admit what you did," Kris snorted, his cold eyes boring into her.
"But I didn't do anything!" Thalassa declared desperately, grabbing onto his arm. "Kris, please be–"
"Let go of me!" he hissed, snatching his arm from her hold.
"Why is the door left open?" A voice came from behind Thalassa.
It was the voice of Karen Blade, her best friend. Hope beamed inside Thalassa.
"Thalassa." Karen gasped with surprise when she finally saw her. "You're out of jail?"
Thalassa instantly moved towards her and grabbed her hand, leading her to where Kris was standing.
"Karen, please tell Kris. Tell him how I called you after his mother sent me to give the documents to that man. Tell him how I was hesitant because something didn't feel right. Tell him that I'm innocent."
Thalassa waited. Waited for Karen to tell Kris exactly that, but the next words out of her best friend's mouth sent her whole world crashing down.
"I'm sorry, Thalassa, but I'm tired of always covering up your lies. You never called me."
Karen's denial was like a s**p, causing Thalassa to stumble backward as her mouth dropped open in shock.
"But.but Karen.what are you saying? What lies? I called you to tell you about it. You even called me later to ask whether I was on my way to do what my mother-in-law had asked."
Karen's eyes, which usually always shone with affection, now blazed coldly with malice.
"Enough already, Thalassa! Aren't you tired of always telling lies? I'm so tired of always having to lie for you, but I can't anymore. Kris is a good man, and he doesn't deserve your deceptions."
Thalassa's head spun as she tried to process everything. Was she dreaming? She had to be dreaming.
Otherwise, why would her best friend, the person she trusted and confided in the most, betray her like this?
Feeling like her heart was beating out of her ch**t, she turned to Kris, looking at him pleadingly.
"Baby, please, I. I don't know why Karen is lying, but please believe me. I haven't done anything. I've never lied to you."
"You lo**ife thief! So everyone else is a liar except you?" Susan, Kris's sister, snorted as she crossed her arms over her ch**t.
Thalassa paid no heed to her words because they didn't matter. The only person whose opinion mattered to her at that moment was Kris.
"Kris, why aren't you saying anything? Please tell me you believe me."
"I have nothing to say to you apart from the fact that you should sign the divorce papers and disappear from my life. I want nothing to do with you."
"No!" Thalassa declared loudly, throwing the divorce papers to the ground. "I refuse to sign them. Kris, you can't possibly believe that I could lie and steal from you in such a way."
She grabbed his hand, staring into his hard eyes with her pleading ones. "You promised me that nothing would ever come between us. What happened to that promise?"
"That's because I didn't know I was marrying a liar, a thief, and a s**t," he hissed, jerking his hand away.
"It's okay. I've had enough of this woman," Linda Miller said. "If she refuses to sign the divorce papers, we can get it another way. Take her away."
Immediately, the security guard grabbed Thalassa's arm, but just as he was about to drag her away, she yelled,
"I am pr**nant!"
Chapter 4
The hall turned silent. So silent that you could hear a pin drop as everyone stared at Thalassa in shock, but the only reaction she cared about was Kris's.
His nostrils flared, his eyes widening as if demanding to know if she was telling the truth.
"Yes," she nodded earnestly.
"It's true. I found out yesterday. That's why I called you so many times; I wanted to give you the good news, but you never picked up. And when I texted, saying I had something important to tell you, that's what I wanted to share."
Her breath caught as she gauged Kris's reaction, anxiously waiting for his response. His eyes scanned her face as if looking for any hint of lying, his gaze turning conflicted.
Just as Thalassa began to think that he believed her, his mother appeared.
"Son, you can't possibly believe anything that comes out of this wh**e's mouth after everything she has done. She's lying! She's obviously telling you this so that you won't divorce her."
"I am not lying!" Thalassa declared fiercely. "When I found out, I told Karen about it. She-"
"Why do you keep trying to involve me in your lies? You did not tell me anything," Karen denied once again.
This time, Thalassa wasn't surprised by the betrayal, but that didn't make it hurt any less.
At that moment, the look of conflict on Kris's face transformed back into the hard, cold look as he gritted out, "Get out of here."
Thalassa flinched, her throat tightening. "Kris, I just told you that I'm pr**nant. Do you really want me to leave?"
"I am not falling for your lies anymore. I want you out of my life because I can't stand you. I hate you, Thalassa Thompson."
Tears brimmed in Thalassa's eyes as she shook her head vigorously in denial. "You. You don't mean that."
Kris let out a chuckle so cold that it sent a shiver down her spine. "You're right, I don't mean that. Because I don't hate you, Thalassa. I f**king despise you."
The tears finally fell down her face. In that moment, the pain that went through her heart was so sharp and intense that it felt like a knife piercing through her.
She had to wait a few seconds for the pain to subside.
"Fine," she finally said, wiping furiously at the tears streaming down her cheeks. "Give me a pen, and I'll sign the divorce papers."
She was done. Done being humiliated. Done trying to prove her innocence to Kris. If he despised her, then so be it.
A pen was thrust in front of her. Without even bothering to see who was offering her the pen, Thalassa grabbed it and walked towards the center table in the living room.
Squatting, she placed the divorce papers on top of the table and signed all the required spots.
Once done, she closed it and walked back towards where Kris was standing.
"Here," she said, her voice and expression now devoid of any emotion. "I've signed them. Just like you wanted."
Kris took the papers from her hand, his eyes never leaving hers.
"Once you decide, let me know where you want your belongings to be taken, and I'll have them brought to you."
And just like that, he turned and walked off, never looking back as he climbed the stairs.
Once he disappeared from view, Thalassa slowly turned to look at the people behind her.
They all had victorious smirks on their faces, except for Karen, who didn't even have the guts to look at her.
"What are you still doing here, b**ch? My brother has divorced you already. Tomas, take her away," Kris's brother, Tyler, instructed.
Just as the security guard grabbed her by the arm, Thalassa jerked herself free and coldly said, "I know my way out."
With her head held high, she began walking towards the door, but just as she was passing by her ex-mother-in-law, the woman grabbed her by the arm and whispered for only her to hear, "Do you really think you're going to have that ba**ard you're trying to pass off as my grandson?"
When Linda Miller finally let her go, Thalassa didn't respond as she continued her way outside.
She couldn't have responded even if she wanted to because she felt tired. Exhausted. Numb.
One year of enduring Kris's suddenly cold attitude and his family's humiliation, trying her very best to make her marriage work, and what did she have to show for it? Nothing. It had all been for nothing.
Once outside the Miller Mansion, Thalassa kept walking. She didn't know how long she had walked. Neither did she know where she was going.
All she knew was that her whole world had come crashing down around her, and she didn't know how to pick up the pieces.
Her surroundings came sharply into focus when a hand suddenly grabbed her from behind and shoved her into a dark alley.
As her heart skipped a beat, Thalassa let out a scream, but the person who had grabbed her quickly covered her mouth with his hand.
"Don't you dare scream!" her attacker hissed. It was a man, and his face was covered with a mask.
Thalassa sucked in a breath, realizing how reckless she'd been for wandering alone at this time of night.
No, she couldn't let anything happen to her. She'd been through too much to add this on top of it.
With all her might, she clamped her teeth on his hand, biting him fiercely. The man shrieked, letting go of her.
But before she could use that opportunity to run, he grabbed her by the neck and slammed her into the wall before vi**ently kn**ing her in the stomach.
Thalassa gasped as pain shot through her abdomen, and her eyes widened with dread. Her baby!
"Don't hurt me. Please don't hurt me," she pleaded. "You can take everything I have on me, but please don't hurt me. I am pr**nant."
The man laughed callously. "Who says I care?" Leaning forward, he whispered into her ear, "I've been sent to give you a message; next time, don't mingle where you don't belong."
Then he h*t her in the stomach with his knee again, this time more fi**cely than before. Thalassa let out a gr**n of pain, her body going weak as she sank to the ground.
She clutched her abdomen as she lay on the ground, her voice weak as she pleaded, "I beg you. Please don't hurt me. I am pr**nant. Why are you doing this? Please have some mercy. Please."
But all her pleas fell on deaf ears. The man began ki**ing her in the abdomen, over and over again. The more she begged him, the more he ki**ed.
By the time he stopped, Thalassa had tears streaming down her face as she gr**ned repeatedly in pain. It took her several seconds to realize that her attacker had left.
Her whole body hurt as she braced her hand on the ground and forced herself to sit up, but she froze when she realized she was bl**ding.
Panic shot through her. No! Her baby! Her baby! She needed to save her baby.
With the last bit of strength she had, she crawled out of the alley, weakly calling out, "Help me. Please, help me."
She tried getting up to her feet, but it hurt too much, so she just kept on crawling as she continued calling for help.
She saw a woman approach and stretched out her hand. "Please.help me."
The woman looked freaked out and quickly ran off without even turning back to look at her.
"No.please, don't go. Help me."
She was feeling too weak. The whole world spun in front of her eyes before she collapsed on the floor, and everything went black.
What happens next?
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&5&
Three years. One thousand and ninety-five days of trying to be the perfect wife, and this was my reward divorce papers on our anniversary.
My hands wouldn't stop shaking. "You're doing this today? On our anniversary?"
"Camille." He sighed, "There's no point dragging this out."
The morning sun streamed through our kitchen windows, catching the diamond on my finger. Three carats, princess cut, picked out by his mother.
"Not your style, dear, but it's what a Rodriguez wife should wear," she'd said at the time. Like everything else in my life, it had never really been mine.
"Is there someone else?"
Stefan straightened his tie, the blue one I'd given him for Christmas. "Yes."
One word. That's all it took to erase three years of trying to be perfect.
In a trance, my hand knocked against my coffee mug, sending it crashing to the floor.
"Let me get that." Stefan reached for the paper towels.
"Don't." My voice cracked. "Just. don't pretend to care now."
I bent to pick up the broken pieces. A photo slipped from between the divorce papers, landing face-up in the spilled coffee.
The world stopped.
I knew that smile. Those eyes. That perfectly poised expression that had haunted every family photo since I was twelve.
"Rose?" My sister's name tasted like poison. "Your first love was Rose?"
Stefan's silence said everything. My adopted sister. My parents' golden child. The one they'd chosen to love.
Betrayed by her husband, cast aside by her own family, and left for dead by the sister who stole everything, Camille vanished without a trace.
But the weak, naive Camille died the night her car was forced off that bridge.
A year later, she returns as Camille Kane, richer, colder, she is no longer the woman they once trampled on.
But as her enemies fall at her feet, one question remains: when the revenge is over, what's left?
A mysterious trillionaire Alexander Pierce steps into her path, offering something she thought she lost forever, a future.
&7&