All Chapters of His Unfinished Love Story: Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

Emma’s POVAfter Michael leaves, I remain motionless, gazing at the ceiling with a numb detachment that feels like a precursor to oblivion. Twelve years ago, I endured abuse, but it was cloaked in remorse—an apology that did little to cleanse the stain of self-loathing but offered a semblance of closure. I had believed I deserved punishment for my inability to shield myself. If not for Daniel, my penance of starvation and exhaustive exercise might have persisted until it consumed me completely.Now, the sense of defeat is absolute, and the need for self-punishment has evaporated into a profound resignation. Is there a way out of this torment? I wonder. An image of Daniel bathing Lily floats into my mind, a reminder of enduring innocence and love. A wistful smile crosses my lips; Lily is in capable hands. Daniel could forge a new family in my absence. He's never been one to endure solitude, and he would prioritize our daughter above all. Perhaps it's my destiny to fade from their narra

Daniel’s POVThe neurology ward is quiet as I walk through, a stark contrast to the turmoil swirling inside me. I've just left Jessica's room, where she lies unconscious but stable. Her condition is a complex puzzle; despite some improvement, she's been oscillating between the ICU and the neuro ward. Surgical interventions are necessary, yet her increased risk of bleeding coupled with her father's insistence on waiting for Michael's return has left us in a medical stalemate.After leaving Jessica's ward, I make my way to Laura's office. The weight of the last few days hangs heavily on my shoulders, a physical manifestation of the relentless pursuit and the haunting fears over Emma's safety. Laura looks up as I enter, her expression shifting from focused to deeply concerned. She can read the exhaustion etched on my face, a clear sign that the situation is dire. "Any news about Emma?" she asks, her voice a mix of hope and dread.I settle into the chair opposite her desk, running a han

Emma’s POV Seated across from me in our new, less opulent prison, Michael slides a tray of food toward me, his gaze critical. "You don't look as hauntingly beautiful as when you were just bones," he quips, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "Eat." I resist the urge to throw the tray at him. "It's none of your business," I snap back, struggling to keep my voice steady. He laughs, a sound that chills my spine. "Everything about you is my business, Emma. Your body, your mind, they belong to me." The words are a knife twisting in my gut, but I hold back my tears. Numbness has been my shield, my armor in surviving these days that bleed into each other with excruciating sameness. Reminded of my aborted escape through drowning—the memory a sharp sting of shame—I reaffirm silently: Lily needs me. No matter how dark my world turns, she needs her mother. To avoid provoking Michael further, I begin eating the food reluctantly and decide to steer the conversation somewhere else, anywhere

Michael’s POV I stand in the kitchen, hurling the tray into the sink with more force than necessary, then storm out to the living room. My mind is in turmoil, swirling with memories and regrets. The confusion isn't just about today; it's about a past that keeps clawing back, a past marked by both care and cruelty. **Flashback to 8 months ago** The door to Scarlet’s apartment swings open. The moment I step inside, the irony of her situation hangs heavy in the air. "So, Michael, am I really safe, or do I need protection from you too?" she asks, her voice dripping with sarcasm. I try to reassure her, "You’ve always been safe with me. I’m here to protect you, not harm you." But my words sound hollow even to my own ears. Scarlet doesn't buy it. She pushes further, probing about my complicated feelings for Jessica. I admit reluctantly, "It’s... complicated," feeling the weight of my duplicity. Trying to shift the focus, I pull her close and kiss her. "I have to handle something u

Emma‘s POVAfter Michael stops speaking, I stand still, my gaze fixed on the wall, wrestling with a storm of despair and revulsion. His touch, his words—they sear through me, reviving every bitter memory, every moment of degradation he’s inflicted upon me. Yet, I understand the game now more clearly than ever. Michael’s behavior is the epitome of sadistic pleasure. The more I resist, the more he thrives, fueling his twisted desires.Understanding this, I resolve to adopt a new strategy: I will become the submissive prisoner, the one with Stockholm syndrome. This isn’t about genuine submission but survival, a play to keep Lily safe by any means necessary.“Of course you’ve made mistakes, Michael,” I begin, my voice steady, measured. “But acknowledging them means there’s good in you. That’s what drew me to you initially, and why I fell for you.”His eyes search mine, skeptical of my sudden shift. “Do you really mean that? Would you give me another chance?”Navigating this treacherous co