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Breach of agreement.
Last Updated:
2024-06-30 23:04:41
Miss MHeye lovely readers, hope you enjoyed today's update ...what do you think Ellaya should confess first? let me know in the comment.
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Iden strode into the gym, took off his t-shirt and watch, and threw them carelessly onto the bench. He then stepped forward, bent over, and pulled the ring over his head to enter the cage. A voice rang in his head as he made contact with the punching bag. " Come on, Iden, you can never defeat me." " Come on, punch me, yes punch me. You are still mama's little boy, Iden." " Just one moment of distraction and you will lose it, dude." "Yes, come on, strike it hard." With a rush of adrenaline coursing through him, he punched the puncing bag, sending it flying into the air. "Man, I am in love, finally, Leo the beast is in love," "KAPO" (punched the bag again.) "Yes, Idi boy. I am sure she also loves me." "KAPO" (he struck it once more) "I would die than be without her. She called me a stinking dog,slapped me, and insulted me, but I still love her too much to let her go. She does not love me, and you know why? Because I am poor and poor people do not have the right to fal
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She steered her neck and asked again, looking him in the eyes, "Why do you need to control yourself?" His intense gaze danced across her face. "You are not the kind of woman I spend time with, Laaya." The sentence pierced through her heart, and her face visibly fell, she lowered her eyes, 'what exactly does he mean by "not the type of woman he spends time with?' staring at his chest, and asked again,"what kind of woman do you think I am, then?" Iden took a few steps backwards and said, "You are the kind of woman a man would want to bring home, introduce to his parents, closest friends, and family members; you are the kind of woman he would want to flaunt at parties, hold hands with, and declare to the world, "I am married to this woman, she is mine; do not even dare to look at her." You are the kind of woman, princess, that a man like me could forget about all the attractive women out there and return home early every single night just to fuck his wife." Once more turning aro
Last Updated : 2024-07-02She, His Enigma Captive in your love
Laaya stood in the dimly lit gym, her heart still racing from Iden's words; his confession hung heavy in the air, thick and suffocating. She took deep breaths and tried to study herself, but the emotions inside her were too strong to control. Iden had turned away from her, his shoulder tensed, and she could see the struggle in his posture, as his fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. He was fighting a battle with himself, and she desperately wanted to help him win. After a suffocating silence, she softly called out "Iden," her voice tremulous. "You don’t need to be prince or hero, I don’t need you save me. I just need you to be with me. I do not care what others think or say; I know who you are." He moved slowly, his eyes dark and stormy. Laaya, you do not understand. I am not good for you. "I could hurt you in ways you cannot imagine." She stepped closer, closing the gap between them. "Let me choose to be with you, despite the risks and criticism, because I believe in you
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The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow on Ellaya's face. A chilly touch grazed her face as she twisted in her sleep, flinching in her banket and twitching her eyes. Her finger curled into the warmth of her blanket. The deep captivating voice - pulled her from her slumber. "Good morning, princess." The aroma of freshly brewed coffee danced in the air coaxing her eyes to open. She blinked, her lashes fluttering, and peeked out from beneath her hand. Everything felt like a dream - the kind you never want to wake up from Thought of last night, of him, swirled in her mind, keeping her awake until dawn. And there he was leaning over the edge of her bed, his gaze intense, like a character out of a forbidden romance novel. From her eyes to her jaw and lips, his knuckles traced her face. There was a pause in the silence as their eyes met and remained fixed on each other until his voice reverberated through the empty space. "Good morning Love". He move
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With her mouth agape, Ellaya stood gazing up at heaven from the gangway. The yacht’s name, Heaven is etched in elegant gold letters on the stern. Iden held Ellaya's hand and led her inside. "Oh! My. God, Is it yours?" She cried out in excitement, turning and glancing all over. " No, this is Mr. Ruan's, my boss". "A man of luxury, that is for sure". Iden chuckled at her enthusiasm, "Yeah, he is." The yacht was a sleek modern vessel with a polished deck, gleaming chrome railing, and floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the azure sea. It’s a floating heaven where time slows down, and the world beyond fades away. Ellya stood holding the railing, closed her eyes, and breathed in the salty air while admiring the glittering sea. Iden stood behind her. "Are you enjoying the surprise?" She turned to glance over her shoulder and smiled at the owner of the magnetic voice. As the sun begins its descent, casting a warm, golden glow across the water, Iden leads Ellaya to th
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Their kiss taste of salt and logging. The room is saturated with candlelight, casting shadows on the mahogany walls. Iden hands map the curves of Ellaya’s body, and the world outside ceases to exist. The yacht rocks gently, echoing their rhythm. Iden released her grip on her swollen, dark pink lips after what seemed like an eternity. He buried his head, breathed heavily, in her neck beneath her thick hair as they gasped for air. "Ah!!...", a soft moan escaped her lips, she steered on his unexpected kiss on her neck, bit her already swollen lips, and Iden lifted his head and looked at her half-closed eyes, a smile saying, "Do not do it, princess, or I will lose control." Her eyes widened, and she met his intense gaze. His hands were caressing her body, and she knew exactly what that famished expression meant. Unsure of what to say, Ellaya pursed her lips even more. She met his intense gaze, without flinching "Oh! No, I am still a virgin should I need to tell me? Will it matter
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As she passed out from the orgasm, her mind went blank unable to process the sudden rush of euphoria. The passion between them like wildfire, leaving them breathless and warning for more. Iden stood up and opened his shirt's two buttons. But was stopped in the middle. his phone rang. Echoing in the empty room, overlapping the rhythm of their rapid breath. His jaw tightened, his knuckles white gripping the phone. Muted the cell he sat at the edge of the bed, cupped Ellaya’s face and kissed her forehead, "I need to take this call, I will be back, okay." She nodded her head. Iden left the room with his phone. The room, once filled with their shared desire, now echoed with the emptiness of his absence. Ellaya's finger trembled as she wrapped herself in the silk bedsheet and sat on the edge of the bed. She put her shaking hand on her face, taking a deep breath and it trailed from her cheeks to her lips, to her neck. Her skin prickled as if a thousand fireflies had kissed it,
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"Hello Ema", Ellaya greeted, her smile bright as she handed over her luggage and dashed forward. Welcome back, Miss. How was your trip?" Ema's voice was warm, her smile mirroring Ellaya Good. How is everyone?" Ellaya's pace is quickened. "Everyone is doing well ma'am. Sir and madam are home today with guests." Ema replied, trailing behind her with the luggage. "Guests? who?" Her lips pursed in thought. The sweet aroma of coffee and freshly baked cookies wrapped around her, mingling with the distant hum of conversation and laughter. As she stepped into the living room, her feet halted. her eyes widened, and her forehead creased deeply. "What are you doing here", The words slipped out before she could stop them. Ellaya's gaze swept the room, taking in the faces turned towards her, their smiles frozen mid-sip. silence hung in the air, thick and heavy. Then a voice shattered it. "Ellaya, my baby girl, my little princess!." Her mother's voice rang out loud and clear, as she rushed
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A gust of wind tore through the room, sweeping papers off the desk like shreds of the past being ripped into the present. Kai stood in the doorway, chest heaving, drenched in sweat. One hand dragged a man by the collar—a mangled heap of flesh and bone. The man's face was grotesque, beaten to a pulp, barely conscious. Blood dripped steadily from his nose, painting a red trail behind them like a signature of vengeance. Arthur followed, silent as thunder before the strike. His fists were clenched so tightly the knuckles bled white. His eyes—cold, ruthless—locked on Iden like a scope lining up its mark. Without a word, Kai kicked the man’s legs out. He collapsed at Iden’s feet in a graceless heap. Silence held its breath. Then a weak, hoarse cry spilled from the man’s throat. He trembled, unable to meet Iden’s eyes. “Having fun, Danny?” Angelo’s voice sliced through the stillness, low and mocking as he crouched beside the man. A cruel smile twisted his lips. “Didn’t expect t
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“This is the video we pulled,” Angelo said, turning the laptop toward Iden. He hit play. Young Ellaya hurled a glass of wine at Leo. Her voice sliced through the air like a blade. “You sewer rat! You don’t belong here! You should’ve died in the gutter you crawled out of!” Her finger jabbed toward his face, trembling. “You’re dirt-poor—and that’s exactly what you deserve! You should die like the scum you are!” Then, louder—each syllable laced with venom: “You’re poor—and that’s all you’ll ever be. Die in it.” Iden’s jaw locked. He didn’t blink. Couldn’t. His stomach twisted into a slow, suffocating knot. He’d seen this video so many times, it was seared into his memory. Burned in rage. It was the reason he hated her—or tried to. Failed to. But this clip, this moment... it was the beginning of everything. He had sworn over his friend’s grave to destroy her. And he did—masterfully. “She’s yelling at Leo,” Angelo said. “That’s what the clip shows. And we all believ
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She smirked as she shoved a stray book off her lap. “You know… you don’t have to be the Don. You can just be who you are.” Iden tilted his head slightly, lips twitching into a faint smile—small, but real. “You’re the only one who gets to say that.” And in that moment—grief shadowing his eyes, the scent of blood still faint on his shirt—he smiled. He rubbed her hair playfully, gently mussing the strands like he used to when they were kids. “Really?” she grinned, sitting cross-legged on her bed. “Okay… if you say so. But I can tell you mine.” She beamed, reaching for a thick leather diary. “I used to keep memos, you know? I’d write down everything I enjoyed. The places I loved, food I liked, people I met. Kinda old school.” Iden sat down beside her, intrigued despite himself. Her glittering eyes—so full of life—reminded him of someone else. Someone who once laughed shyly and smiled like an idiot. Ellaya. His gaze drifted from his sister to the window, where night pressed it
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Days passed like smoke—slipping through fingers, vanishing before they could be held. Time didn’t move forward; it bled. Minutes dragged like hours, and weeks collapsed in on themselves. Iden didn’t sleep. He didn’t eat. He sat in silence, trapped in his own mind, spiraling deeper into a storm of memories and questions. The moon became his only witness. Some nights, he watched the stars, others, the rain. Most nights, he simply stared into the void, heart thundering beneath skin that no longer felt like his own. A storm churned in his chest—loud, endless, and hungry. He saw her face in every shadow. Heard her voice in every silence. Her scent still clung to his lungs like smoke from a fire he could never put out. It had been a week since the blast. A week of searching. A week without answers. She wasn’t listed among the dead. But she wasn’t among the living either. She was missing. And Iden knew—deep in the part of his soul that still burned for her—she was alive. Hidi
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The room was breathtaking—paneled in dark mahogany, steeped in the scent of old paper and aged wood. Floor-to-ceiling shelves held leather-bound books, their spines gilded and cracked with time. But it was the massive oil painting that stole Ellaya’s breath. A woman with wild purple hair and luminous skin smiled down at them. Her eyes—familiar, haunting—seemed to follow Ellaya across the room. She froze. The resemblance was undeniable. Same striking bone structure. Same purple irises. But the woman in the painting looked lighter—freer. Her smile held none of the weight Ellaya carried. None of the pain. Photos cluttered every surface. In one, the woman stood beside a tall, devastatingly handsome man—mid-laugh, hand wrapped around her waist. Their wedding photo. They looked hopelessly in love. Another showed them cradling a baby. The man's eyes brimmed with pride. The woman’s arms curled around the infant like a shield. The baby… was her. There was no mistaking it. Ellaya stagge
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Ellaya didn’t remember when they moved her. One moment, she was in her cell—cracked walls, the stench of sweat and rusted iron, a tray of untouched food rotting in the corner. The next, she woke in hell. Not the metaphorical kind. The real one. The kind where screaming and silence existed in the same breath. Where punishment wasn’t given for madness—it was fed to it. You weren’t treated. You were drowned. The asylum was never quiet. Men laughed at the ceiling. Women whispered to the walls. Eyes followed her—hungry, hollow. Human only in name. She didn’t scream. Didn’t fight. She just watched. Watched them drag limp bodies behind rusted doors marked “TREATMENT.” Watched them come back quieter. Emptier. Sometimes not at all. They said she was dangerous. Deranged. A monster in a pretty shell. She didn’t correct them. Let them think she was mad. Let them forget she existed. At least then, no one expected her to survive. She’d already buried herself inside. What was left to
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The room hummed with tension. Blue light from dozens of monitors painted ghostly shapes across Angelo’s office. Cables tangled like veins across the floor, machines blinked like they were breathing. The sharp scent of hot metal, sweat, and cigarette smoke hung thick in the air. “Everything’s set,” Kai reported, voice clipped. “Cameras, medics, chopper in the air. Our men are spread across the asylum. She's walking into the lion’s mouth.” Iden stepped into the room, slow and silent. This was the war room. It looked like one. A place where lives were traded, decisions signed in blood. He moved to the center of the chaos, eyes drawn to the wall of screens. Every angle of the massive asylum flickered in shaky grain. Corridors lined with flickering lights. Rooms filled with twitching shadows—patients, doctors, ghosts. The asylum was a tomb disguised as a hospital. Built on illegal records and rotting experiments. A hellhole. A cover for human trafficking, organ harvesting, un
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It had been a week. And their plan—cold, calculated, inhumane—was working.The medication laced into her system had done more than sedate her. It blurred the edges of time, pulling her into hallucinations stitched from trauma and shadows. She saw things that never happened. Heard voices that whispered lies in familiar tones. Faces from the past flickered before her eyes, only to vanish like smoke. And when she spoke, it was to people long gone.Kai gave the daily reports, short and clinical. “She’s deteriorating. Fast. The hallucinations are getting worse.”But Iden, arms folded and gaze fixed on the monitor, wasn’t convinced the drugs were fully to blame. “Or maybe it’s not the meds,” he said quietly. “Maybe it’s just her past… clawing its way out.”“Does it matter?” Kai muttered. “She’s breaking. That’s the goal.”It didn’t sit right with Iden. Nothing about this did. But the truth was, it was working.His eyes locked on the screen in front of him. There she was—sitting on the cold
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*If she chooses never to return to your life… you’ll let her go.* The words dug into Iden’s chest like nails, each syllable burrowing beneath skin and bone until all that remained was a hollow ache. His mother's voice echoed long after she was gone, like a ghost haunting the edges of his sanity. He collapsed backward onto the bed, limbs flung carelessly like a marionette with severed strings. His arm dangled limply off the edge. The bedsheet twisted under him, bunching like the knots in his chest. His eyes didn’t move. Not even to blink. "Princess..." The word escaped his lips in a breathless rasp—more of a ghost than a name. *You are my knight in shining armor, my hero.* "I'm not," he choked, barely above a whisper. "I never was." His throat tightened. He swallowed hard, but it didn’t help—the guilt still rose like bile. "I’m the fucking monster, Laaya," he muttered, fist tightening in the bedsheet. "You should’ve avoided me. Hid from me. Run as far as you could."
