Chapter 4

"I can do whatever I want to you. I am your entire world. You will never forget me."

His mouth found mine again, breath hot and ragged against my skin.

"Mia Henson, you are *mine*."

The words drilled into my skull like a relentless reminder.

No warmth. Only a suffocating weight pressing down, down, down. A cold-blooded serpent coiling around its prey. Ice flooded my veins. A chill slithered down my spine. My body trembled—*traitor*—betraying every ounce of resolve I'd fought to hold.

But I refused to respond.

Fists clenched. Spine rigid. A wooden statue.

His eyes bored into mine, searching for a flicker—any flicker—of affection. Of love.

My gaze gave him nothing. Empty. Hollow. He manipulated my limbs like a marionette, and I let him. No resistance. No satisfaction.

His anger spiked.

"Do you love me?" The words dropped an octave, heavy with menace. "Mia Henson, *do you love me?!*"

"Say it! You love me! Say you fucking love me!"

My lips pressed into a thin, pale line.

Silence.

It drove him over the edge. He shook me, fingers digging into my arms hard enough to bruise.

"Mia Henson, are you fucking *mute*?!"

His voice cracked with rage. "You used to crawl for my attention—couldn't beg enough just to see me once. Now I'm giving you what you want, and *this* is how you act?! Playing hard-to-get—is that fun for you?!"

*Smack!*

My hand connected with his cheek before I knew it was moving.

My fingers trembled in the aftermath.

The memory of *that* night surged like bile—

I still remembered the euphoria when he first held me. I had overcome every fear, cast aside every shred of dignity to stay with him, begging the universe that this intimacy would make him love me. Just a little. Just *enough*.

But the moment I let my guard down and embraced him, his lips brushed my forehead, and he murmured softly:

"Amy... do you like it..."

A bone-piercing chill.

Shattered.

In that moment, my heart stopped. My chest forgot how to rise and fall.

"You... you've got the wrong person!"

I shoved him away, snatching the blanket to cover my trembling body, retreating to the corner of the room like a cornered animal.

Zion Gilbert hit the floor. He rubbed his aching brow, gaze shifting from the mess on the bed to me—cowering like a frightened rabbit.

His face darkened.

"Mia Henson, I *warned* you."

"No! It wasn't me—it was *you*!" I stammered. "You grabbed me. I thought... I thought—"

"You thought I fell in love with you?" A cruel laugh. "Thought I wanted to be a *real* husband? Dream on."

"I drank too much. Walked into the wrong room. That's all." His eyes turned to ice. "Remember this, Mia Henson: the only person I love is Amy. No matter what you do, it's useless."

"If there's a next time, I won't spare you."

The door slammed.

I collapsed in the cold corner, curling into myself, knees to chest, arms wrapped tight.

"Soon... it's almost time..."

"Hold on, Mia. Just hold on a little longer..."

Despite swallowing emergency contraception immediately, I still got pregnant.

When Zion found out, he destroyed everything he could get his hands on. Furniture. Glass. Walls. Finally, he pointed a shaking finger at my face and issued his decree:

"I won't let this child be born. Get rid of it."

Then he took Amy Swanson to Japan for Christmas.

I faced the surgery alone.

My mother-in-law discovered the appointment and volunteered to accompany me.

In name, it was care.

In reality, surveillance.

I had suffered enough. The bitterness of loving him had bled me dry. Now I only wanted to repay the Gilbert family's kindness—and obtain my freedom.

"Zion, where were you? The banquet is about to start. We need to leave."