Chapter 22
His face was still bruised, the marks of Ethan’s fists fresh on his once–handsome features. Despite the visible pain, he managed a crooked smile.
“Hey,” he said, leaning on the window with a sheepish look. T’m sorry, honey. I was impulsive the other day.” His voice was casual, as if nothing had happened. “Look, I just got out of the hospital and wanted to apologize. Just forgive me, alright?”
I stared at him, my stomach churning. How could he stand there, bruised and battered, and still act like I’d just forgive him?
I pretended not to hear and pressed the button to try to close the window.
I knew exactly why he was here, playing nice. He saw me as his golden ticket–his path to power and wealth, a rich girlfriend who’d do anything for him.
got everything he wanted: to marry me, become
He was never going to let go of that, not until he
Alpha of Stardustpack, and sink his claws into my life.
But I remembered what came after.
In our previous life, once the vows were exchanged, Ryan’s true self had surfaced.
The first time I noticed it was subtle, a drunken night when he muttered with disdain, “It’s just that your family has a bit of money, and you like to bully others. What’s the big deal?”
The insults would evolve into shouts, and the shouts into something darker–his fists.
Every night he came home drunk, he would rage, calling me spoiled, worthless.
Then he’d hit me.
I still remember the stinging blows, the bruises blooming across my skin. He never touched my face. though–no, that was too obvious. He was too cunning to let Ethan, or anyone else, notice.
The next morning, he would find me crumpled on the floor, barely alive. His tears would flow, crocodile tears, as he knelt before me, begging for forgiveness.
And like a fool, I always gave it to him.
wore long sleeves to cover the bruises and begged Ethan to help Ryan rise to power. I thought
Saul Habern
21.04
Chapter 22
Ryan’s apologies were sincere. How naïve I had been.
Looking back now, I realized it was all part of his sick game. He loved seeing me broken–physically
and emotionally.
He wasn’t drunk when he hit me. He just pretended to be, so he could get away with it.
After all, what kind of “drunken man deliberately avoids leaving marks on your face? He wanted to hurt me, but not enough for anyone to notice.
That vicious cycle–torture, apology, forgiveness–was the pattern of our past life.
But now? Now, I was going to make him feel every ounce of pain he put me through.
“I continued raising the window, pretending not to see Ryan’s hand resting on the frame. His reaction was slow, his hand still bandaged from Ethan’s previous beating, and before he could pull it away, the window pressed down on it.
His face twisted in pain, his teeth clenched, and I could see the blood beginning to seep through his
bandages.
“Stop, stop! Don’t raise it any higher!” he shouted, his voice strained.
let the window rise a little more, just enough to make sure his agony was evident, then released the button and put on my best shocked expression.
“Oh my God Ryan, I’m so sorry!” my voice was filled with false concern as I said mockingly, “Why are you blocking the window with your hand? How dangerous!”
Ryan struggled to pull his hand out, crouching on the curb, clutching it to his chest, his face contorted with pain.
His injured hand trembled, and I saw the fresh blood staining his bandages.
Step one, torture.
I said, following his hypocritical example from a previous life. “Ryan, I didn’t see your hand! You. don’t blame me, do you?”
ilis eyes flickered with suspicion for a moment, his anger barely concealed. He was trying to read
7
my face, trying to see if I did it on purpose.
“He couldn’t lose me. He needed me.
Chapter 22
And that desperation was enough for him to swallow his pride and hide his pain.
Istepped out of the car, extending my hand to help him up.
But when I grabbed his injured
and. I made sure to squeeze it a little too tight.
I watched as Ryan’s face twitched in pain, but he bit his lip, forcing himself to endure it.
“Honey, could you… let go of my hand?” he asked, his voice strained.
“What, are you disgusted with me now?” I said, my voice soft but edged with a challenge.
