Rising From His Ashes of Betrayal

clung to him, a picture of fragile victimhood, her eyes flickering open, casting a terrified glance in my dire

ut instead of the cool tile, my palms met a shower of broken ceramic and glass shards. A searing pain shot

ms, her eyes closed, her breathing shallow. Her stunt. It was a calculated move, a desperate, brilliant act of manip

mpty abyss of hatred. He didn' t say a word. He just nodded to the two burly bodyguards standing by th

to my feet. My hands, still bleeding, scraped against the shattered porcelain of the sink as they dragged me backward, pushing me down on

rrifying glint, a silent promise of unimaginable pain. A shiver, cold and primal, ran down my spine. My heart hammered against m

glass across his own palm. A thin line of crimson bloomed, stark against his skin. Then, with a predatory gleam in his eyes, he slammed the bloody shard against the wall beside

horror. "Adrien, no!" I choked out, a desperate, futile plea. My heart was a sha

oom. A blinding flash of pain, then a dull, throbbing ache swallowed my senses. My mouth fell o

hispering vows, his lips brushing against mine. I will cherish you, protect you, alw

of mirror to my open mouth. I tried to resist, but the bodyguards held me fast. He forced the sharp gla

ngue, torn and shredded, pulsed with excruciating pain. Blood, warm and metallic, flooded my mouth, choking me. I gasped for a

d of any emotion. "There," he said, his voice a chilling whisper. "Now you won't be able to sp

on the floor. He scooped her up gently, cradling her in his arms as if she were the most precious thing in the world. He di

a, the distant music, the muffled laughter, mocked my silence. I la

drien's declaration, his public disavowal, had emboldened them. "She's a menace, a madwoman, he said." "H

witch!" she spat, her words ringing with a cruel satisfaction. Then another, a man, his face flushed with alc

eper than any physical blow. "Crazy bitch!" "Monster!" "You deserve this!" They chanted, their anger a collective, te

track of time, of the number of blows. Just a blur of fists and feet and hateful faces.

e whispered, a hint of fear in t

for," another said, a tremor in

stroyed their family? And what about the time she publicly humiliated the DuPonts over a minor social faux pas? She got what she deserved!" The speaker was a tall, gaunt

lurred with tears and pain, meeting the woman' s gaze. "Justice?" I rasped, the word a struggle against my torn tongue. "You pathetic

es rained down on me, harder, more furious than before. They wanted to silence me, to crush t

n flickered, blurring at the edges. The world spun, faster and