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His Poisoned Love, My Escape

Chapter 4 

Word Count: 951    |    Released on: 13/08/2025

error washed ove

ing. He lunged for the trash can, snatchin

ged, his composure shattering. He tried to grab

his collar, the same shade Joyce always wore.

ed her h

hanging my bandages," she said, her v

like a drowning man. Relief flooded h

We'll get it resized immediately. I'll

ged from the medical wing, he insist

rough a seriese of outrageously expensive boutiques, buying her thi

" he announced loudly in a jewelry store

nd necklace so heavy

hispered to her friend. "A tot

re just golden chains. The prais

a small, exclusive auction house. A

her m

er' s belongings by her father after he remarr

" she said, h

show of interest, immediately

but manageable. Alana was

, a new voice joined i

room, a smug look on her face, de

Alana said throu

just s

urning to him. "Tell her t

ced from Alana' s desperate

ana's arm. "It's just a piece of jewelry. Let h

ny physical blow. He was choosing Jo

g with rage. She turned back to th

lent. Joyce gape

e auctione

. A small, ho

d ran from the room, play

t Alana grabbed his arm. "You're n

ne. I'll go get the locket for

hed him go, then, on a dar

allway at the back of the auc

as comforting her, stroking

urmuring. "Don't cry. I'll get

yce whined. "I wanted to ta

find another way to punish her for this

in a vise. She couldn't breathe. She turned an

she was going, the city ligh

zed. A messag

lay. Meet me at the west parking garag

at that meant. Punishme

parking garage, a num

ietly. As she reached for the door handl

hing her stomach, her back. One of them kicked her leg

se, but the emotio

," one of the men grunted, deliveri

ard a

mpled and broken on the

zzed again.

text underneath read: "He says hello. Oh, and Dad is

image of her mother's locket

ain in her ribs. She had to go to that dinner

father's house. Every step was a fr

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His Poisoned Love, My Escape
His Poisoned Love, My Escape
“My husband, Austen, the man the world saw as my devoted admirer, was the artist of my pain. He had punished me ninety-five times, and this was the ninety-sixth. Then, a message from my stepsister, Joyce, buzzed on my phone: a photo of her perfectly manicured hand holding champagne, captioned, "Celebrating another victory. He really does love me more." A second message from Austen followed, "My love, are you resting? I' ve asked the doctor to come. I' m sorry it had to be this way, but you must learn. I' ll be home soon to take care of you." I had always known Joyce was the trigger, but I never understood the mechanism. I thought it was just Austen' s own brand of cruelty, ignited by Joyce' s lies. But then, I found a voice recording of Austen's. His calm voice filled the silent room, "...number ninety-six. A broken hand. It should be enough to appease Joyce this time. But my debt must be paid. Fifteen years ago, Joyce saved my life. She pulled me from that burning car after the kidnapping. I vowed that day I would protect her from everything and everyone. Even from my own wife." My mind went blank. Kidnapping. Burning car. Fifteen years ago. I was the one there. I was the girl who pulled a terrified, crying boy from the back seat just before it exploded. His name was Austen. He had called me his "little star." But when I returned with the police, another girl was there, crying and holding Austen' s hand. It was Joyce. He didn't know. He had built his entire twisted system of justice on a lie. Joyce had stolen my life-saving act, and I was paying the price. Every cell in my body screamed one word: Escape.”
1 Chapter 12 Chapter 23 Chapter 34 Chapter 45 Chapter 56 Chapter 67 Chapter 78 Chapter 89 Chapter 910 Chapter 1011 Chapter 1112 Chapter 1213 Chapter 1314 Chapter 1415 Chapter 1516 Chapter 1617 Chapter 17