Alex sprawled on the car's hood, a whirlwind of motion and violence overtaking him, his senses reeled from the sudden impact. Blood trickled from his battered lips, mingling with the cuts etching his face as he was mercilessly dragged along the unforgiving metal surface. Each breath felt like a struggle, his body a symphony of pain, every heartbeat a drum of fear. Then, a voice sliced through the chaos, heavy as iron, dripping with anger. "How. Dare. You." The words seeped out like venom, laced with a potent wrath that chilled the air. And then, louder, angrier: "How dare you touch her." The weight of those words settled upon Alex like a crushing weight, realization dawning on him in dread. Iden's movements were swift and menacing as he brandished his gun, the cold metal pressing against Alex's trembling form, a macabre dance of power and submission. Alex's eyes widened in horror, his very soul quivering with fear. Amidst this turmoil, Ellaya stepped forward, her presence a wh
Iden's muscles rippled with each thunderous blow against the punching bag. His skin glistened with a sheen of sweat, accentuating the defined contours of his body as he unleashed his fury. With every punch, a torrent of emotions surged through him, driving him to the brink of madness. As memories flashed before his eyes, Iden's jaw clenched, his teeth grinding together in a symphony of rage. The image of Ellaya, bruised and broken, haunted his thoughts, igniting a fire within him that threatened to consume everything in its path. Her innocence, juxtaposed against Alex's depravity, fueled the inferno raging in his heart. In that moment, Iden teetered on the edge of oblivion, his vision tinted crimson with an insatiable thirst for vengeance. The image of Alex professing his twisted affections for Ellaya was the catalyst that pushed him over the edge. Only Kaito's intervention spared Alex from Iden's wrath, but the embers of retribution still smoldered within him. Iden's body moved w
Iden's footsteps echoed softly in the dark hallway as he made his way to the bedroom, his heart heavy with a mixture of guilt and tenderness. The air was thick with silence, broken only by the hushed rustle of his movements. As he turned the doorknob, a sense of trepidation gripped him, unsure of what he would find inside. The moon cast a haunting glow into the now clean room, illuminating Ellaya's form like an ethereal specter in the night. Her peaceful slumber seemed at odds with the turmoil that had unfolded earlier, her face a mask of innocence marred by the evidence of her silent suffering. Gently, he approached her, his presence a mere whisper in the stillness of the room. He carefully sat on the floor beside her bed, his gaze fixed on her pale face. The sight of her tear-stained cheeks and delicate features stirred a storm of emotions within him. He reached out and tenderly brushed her hair away from her face, revealing the faint traces of a cut on her lips and the bruise
"I demand to know, Ellaya," Iden growled, his voice thick with seething jealousy. The day's events were a blur, but his wife's subconscious whispers of another man's name gnawed at him as she slept, leaving him burning with rage. His grip tightened around her chin, pulling her closer, his eyes ablaze with fury. She quivered, unable to meet his intense gaze. "Tell me... who. Is. Leo?" he demanded, with sheer anger and hurt. Her voice wavered as she tried to respond, "I don't... I don't... know," she stuttered, the fear evident in her eyes. The frustration boiling inside him spilled over. He flicked her chin with a mocking smile. His heavy gaze scanned her for the last time before storming out of the room, leaving behind a tense silence. Ellaya was left alone, the echo of their confrontation ringing in her ears. She folded her legs close to her chest, wrapping her arms around them as tears streamed down her face. The room echoed with her sobs. Her body shook violently and her hear
Ellaya's mind raced, unable to shake off the unsettling sight in the study. Despite the disbelief tugging at her thoughts, her heart felt heavy with a truth she was reluctant to accept. Lost in her turmoil, she stared intently at the table, her grip on the spoon tightening as it dug into her plate. "Ellaya," Annabell's urgent voice pierced through her thoughts, causing her to startle. The clatter of her spoon hitting the floor echoed in the tense silence. Ellaya reached down to retrieve it, her gaze lifted, only to catch Iden gripping Annabell's hand forcefully. A surge of emotion gripped Ellaya as she witnessed Annabell's futile attempt to free herself from his grasp, the unshed tears burning in Ellaya's eyes, threatening to fall down. She wiped away the tears with a trembling hand as she sank back into her seat. Uncertainty clouded her mind, yet one thing remained clear; her heart refused to believe in this cruel charade. Their eyes met in a silent clash of wills, both refusin
Ellaya's world was in turmoil. Each day felt like a storm, with every moment echoing Iden's absence. His silence wrapped around her like a suffocating shroud, leaving her gasping for answers. Desperation gripped her as she dialed his number, only to be met with the deafening void of unanswered calls. Seated before a mirror, Ellaya gazed at her reflection. The woman staring back had eyes like amethyst orbs, wide and hauntingly deep. Cascading waves of dark hair with a mystical purple sheen framed a face that defied convention. Her complexion, a delicate shade of baby pink, hinted at otherworldly origins. In the mirror's gaze, she saw a being that transcended mere humanity. It was a face marked by whispers of ancient power and forbidden allure. Inside, emotions roiled—anguish, defiance, and a fierce longing for acceptance. Her form spoke of a silent struggle against judgment and isolation. The reflection before her was not merely a woman; she was a paradox. In her mother's words, a d
Ellaya refrained from stopping her or asking more, feeling a sense of unease. Memories of recent events flooded back, creating tension in the air. She guided him to their room and helped him onto the bed. Gently, she removed his shoes, socks, and tie, tenderly wiping his face with a damp cloth. As her hand brushed his cheek, he grasped it, locking eyes with her. The intensity in his gaze sent shivers down her spine. He held her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze as he drew her closer, his gaze focused intently on her face, examining every detail. With his other hand, he caressed her cheek, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath his touch. She closed her eyes briefly, then met his intense look once more. Running his fingers through her hair, he pulled her nearer, his scent mingling with the faint tang of alcohol, enveloping her in a daze. The world around them faded into a blur as they breathed in sync, their desire palpable in the air. The warmth of his palm against her skin creat
In a tense room thick with apprehension, the man's voice cut through the silence like a blade. "I'll ask you this one final time, my dear princess. Who is Leo?" His words hung in the air, heavy with expectation and a hint of danger. Her eyes snapped from his hand to his gaze. His expression was eerily composed—too composed—which only hinted at the storm brewing within him. Uncertainty clouded her mind as she shook her head, faltering, "I... I don't know." Beads of cold sweat formed on her forehead, her heart racing as if desperate to break free from her chest. A pulsating ache throbbed in her temple, and her breaths came in short gasps. Almost instantly, a barrage of photos flew towards her, grazing her skin as they scattered across the bed and floor. Among the chaos, her gaze locked onto one of the fallen pictures. Shock contorted her features, her eyes widening in horror. One burning question echoed in her thoughts: how? How did he find out? His next inquiry snapped her back t
**Trigger Warning** The chapters ahead contains depictions of attempted sexual violence, survival, and themes of trauma that may be distressing for some readers. Please prioritize your well-being and proceed with caution. If these themes are sensitive for you, consider skipping this chapter. _______________________________ With a crushed heart and shattered hope, Ellaya sank to the cold, damp floor, her hands obscuring her face as tears streamed through the cracks of her fingers. The muffled sobs echoed in the vast villa, heavy like the weight of betrayal pressing down on her chest. Around her, faces twisted into masks of indifference, some even smirking. Mr. Stone leaned casually against the arm of the chair, pushing the woman on his lap away lightly before rising, towering over Ellaya. Rosi, fists clenched at her sides, threw her arms up in frustration. "You were the one who supported her every whim! Look where it’s gotten her!" “Enough!” Mr. Stone's voice boomed through
Her heart pounded with every hesitant step as she crossed the threshold into the familiar yet suffocating house. The spacious, opulent rooms, once a haven, now felt overwhelming, almost foreign. The contrast between the house’s warmth and her cold, dripping body was jarring. Water pooled at her feet as droplets trailed behind her, evidence of the storm she had been through—not just outside, but within. Her damp dress clung to her trembling frame, her fingers clutching the fabric tightly, as if it could anchor her amidst the tide of fear and guilt rising in her chest. Her eyes swept over the familiar surroundings, each detail stirring memories that surged relentlessly. Some were fleeting moments of comfort, others sharp reminders of hurt. The pounding in her temples intensified as thoughts swirled—thoughts of how other children ran to their homes for safety, for solace, while she stood here, terrified of what lay ahead. This place, though grand and inviting, was never truly home.
Ellaya knelt on the rain-slick ground, her trembling fingers splayed across the jagged edges of the gravestone. The icy night wind lashed at her exposed skin, turning her hands numb as the cold seeped through her drenched clothes. Strands of her hair stuck to her tear-streaked face, the relentless downpour soaking her completely. The weight of despair pressed heavily on her chest, tightening with every ragged breath. Her sobs came in sharp, uneven gasps as the venomous words of the man she had once given her heart to echoed in her mind, relentless as a cruel melody. *“I regret meeting you. I regret marrying you—even if it was only on paper, even if it was for revenge.”* The memory of his voice was a knife, twisting and tearing through her already shattered heart. She had believed in him, in the love she thought they shared. Every touch of his hands had felt like a symphony, every word a promise of a future together. She had abandoned everything for him—her career, her family, ev
Ellaya knelt on the cold, damp ground, her fingers trembling as they traced the jagged edges of the gravestone. The biting wind clawed at her skin, its chill settling deep into her bones. Her hair, disheveled by the relentless breeze, clung to her tear-streaked face. The night wrapped around her like a shroud, heavy and unforgiving, as the venomous words of the man she once loved echoed mercilessly in her mind. *“I regret meeting you. I regret marrying you—even if it was only on paper, even if it was for revenge.”* Each word had struck like a dagger, cutting through her soul and leaving it raw and exposed. The love she had cherished so deeply now felt like poison, eating away at her. Once, her heart had found its rhythm in his presence, had felt safe in his arms. Now, it was nothing but a hollow vessel, incapable of anything but pain. He had destroyed her, ensured she could never love again—not him, not anyone. A sob tore from her throat, shattering the stillness of the gravey
Iden yanked the car door open and slid into the driver’s seat, slamming it shut with enough force to shake the vehicle. His chest heaved with suppressed rage, his jaw locked so tightly it felt like his teeth would crack. His fingers wrapped around the steering wheel, knuckles blanching as he gripped it hard enough to hurt. The engine roared to life, the growl of it mirroring the storm swirling inside him. Without hesitation, he slammed his foot onto the accelerator, sending the car flying down the road like a bullet from a gun. In the wing-mirror mirror, his eyes caught sight of her—Ellaya. She was curled up on the floor, her small frame swallowed by the darkness. Though her face was hidden, he could see it in the way she sat: her shoulders hunched, her arms wrapped around herself, her soul crumbling. Her despair hung in the air like a weight he couldn’t ignore. His chest ached with an intensity that made him want to scream. Instead, he muttered under his breath, voice hoarse, “Fuck,
She smiled faintly, her lips curving upward with a hollow defiance, as if to mock him. But her eyes—those haunted, shattered eyes—glimmered with a strange mix of resignation and rebellion. “Do it,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, yet weighted with sorrow. “I have nothing left to lose.” Iden’s jaw tightened at her words, the muscles twitching as if holding back a storm. His grip on her throat loosened suddenly, and she stumbled back, her hand flying to her neck as she gasped for air. The cold night air felt sharp against her skin, a cruel reminder of her vulnerability. Her knees wavered, but she steadied herself, trembling fingers reaching out to nothing but the empty void around her. Her heart pounded furiously against her ribs, each beat like a reminder of the betrayal standing before her. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, but she refused to let them spill. She lifted her head slightly, her gaze falling on Iden—a man who no longer resembled the one she once loved. Hi
“I’m here to take you home,” Iden said, his voice warm, but his hand on her cheek was cold—a stark contrast to his words. Ellaya didn’t respond. She didn’t flinch. She just sat there, numb, too numb to react. It felt like a dream, fragile and fleeting. She was terrified to move, scared that if she did, the illusion would shatter, and he would vanish like smoke. “Laaya, say something. Anything,” he urged, his tone soft, almost pleading. It was the same voice she had fallen in love with, the one that once made her feel safe. A single tear slipped down her cheek, warm and lonely. Before it could fall, his thumb brushed it away, just as he used to. The familiarity of the gesture broke something inside her, and she leaned forward, wrapping her arms around him. His embrace was strong, warm, and all-encompassing. For a fleeting moment, she felt secure, as though his arms could shield her from the cruelty of the world. “I haven’t done anything,” she whispered, her voice cracking under the
Ellaya was ushered into the stark, cold detention room and left alone. The only items in front of her were a water bottle and a crumpled packet of crackers on the table. Hours passed, but no one came to question her. The silence weighed on her like a heavy fog, thick and suffocating. She cradled her head in her trembling hands, her teeth sinking into her lower lip until the metallic tang of blood seeped into her mouth. Her chest heaved with shallow breaths as she sighed repeatedly, her body refusing to give in to tears, though her heart begged for release. She wasn’t just hurt—she was in shock, too numb to fully grasp the cruel reality of the situation. Iden’s words echoed in her mind, each syllable cutting her like shards of glass. Why would he frame her? He was her husband—Iden David—so why had they called him “Mr. Ruan”? Why hadn’t he denied it? Why had he stood there and condemned her with such conviction? Questions swirled violently in her mind, one crashing into the next, li
It had been weeks since Ellaya woke up. Though her physical injuries were healing, she seemed to be a shadow of her former self. She had shut herself off completely, retreating into a silent world where no one could reach her. Iden never brought up Uncle Richard, and she didn’t seem inclined to talk about him either. Their unspoken agreement to avoid the topic only deepened the growing chasm between them. Iden rarely visited the hospital, but when he did, he lingered outside her door, never stepping in for more than a brief glance. The once vibrant and animated Ellaya sat on the hospital bed one sunny morning, staring out of the window. The sunlight poured in, illuminating her frail figure. She had lost so much weight that her clothes hung loosely on her, and the dark circles under her eyes revealed the sleepless nights she endured. Her hands rested idly in her lap, motionless, and her lips trembled faintly, as though she wanted to speak but had forgotten how. Iden had seen many