CHAPTER 5%
I wasn’t sure how long I had been unconscious. The ceiling above me spun when I tried to focus. My body ached, my leg throbbed, and everything smelled like antiseptic and money–cold linen, leather, the faint musk of a man who didn’t belong in a place like this.
And when I sat up, he was already there.
Kneeling. Right in front of me. Fingertips pressing gently to the side of my neck. His touch wasn’t invasive–it was steady, deliberate. Like he was searching for something beyond my pulse. Like he needed to feel it to ground me, or himself.
Then our eyes met.“]
And something… shifted.
Faint recognition. A flicker of something old. Something that didn’t belong to this moment. A memory, maybe. Of safety. Of danger. I didn’t know. My heart stuttered.}
Then reality hit me.
I yanked my hand from his. “Don’t touch me!“}
He didn’t flinch. Just studied me with a calm that felt more like a warning than comfort.
“You’ve grown… different,” he said softly, almost like he’d known me once.}
I shoved him, hard. He stumbled back a little, surprise flashing in his expression. “Who the hell are you? Why have you locked me in here? Let me go home!“}
His mouth curved into a humorless smile. “Home?”
Then he laughed, sharp and bitter like shattered glass. “You mean the man who wore your sister’s ring before you–and the triplets who nearly killed you in your sleep?“}
My blood turned cold.
He knew.
He *knew* everything.
No one knew about my marriage to Oliver. Not really. It had been private, quiet, meant to protect the family name. No one knew what happened behind those expensive doors. No one had seen the bruises, the threats, the way the triplets turned my life into a nightmare.}
And no one–no one–knew they had tried to kill me.
Except him.
I stared, panic closing around my throat like a fist. Was he one of Oliver’s men? Had he come to drag me back? To silence me?}
I moved back, inch by inch, until he reached for me again. He tilted my chin up with fingers that shouldn’t have felt so soft.
“Stay with me,” he murmured. “I’ll help you get revenge.“}
My body tensed.§
“Get your damn hands off me–I don’t know you!”
He didn’t flinch. His eyes held mine, unblinking. As if daring me to remember. To *believe* him. But belief required trust–and I had none left.”
Not for men like him.
I tried to stand. My leg screamed. My body wasn’t ready. But I didn’t care. I had* to get out of here. Crippled or not.
Then he reached into his jacket.
I recoiled, expecting a weapon.
But it wasn’t a gun.}
It was a stack of photographs.
He handed them to me like they meant nothing.”
And then I saw them.”
A casket.
A modest funeral.
Almost every Hudson in black.
A funeral for me.”
My breath caught. My hand flew to my mouth.
They had buried me.
So they found a body. Or maybe just claimed one was mine. Either way, to the world–I was dead.
Good, I thought.
Let them believe that. Let them move on. Let them carry their shame without dragging me back into that hellhole of a house.
“They buried you,” he said calmly. “Why would you go back? Even alive, they wouldn’t want you.”
The words sliced through me. Not because he was cruel–because he was right.
If they knew I was alive…. they’d try harder next time. They’d finish what they started.
My voice cracked. “Who are you? Why did you bring me here?”
He stared at me then nove a reall hinken launh Not marking Not crual Grieving
1:04 PM
He stared at me, then gave a small, broken laugh. Not mocking. Not cruel. Grieving.”
It sounded like a man remembering something he wished he could forget.
“You belong to me,” he said at last, his voice barely a whisper. He reached out again, this time brushing his knuckle against my chin. “I’ve waited for this day.”
And just like that, I snapped.}
I slapped his hand away. Fury pulsed in my chest. “I don’t belong to *anyone*! Let me go!“>
“Go then,” he said simply, folding his arms like I hadn’t just tried to throw fire at him.
Bastard.”
He *knew*.}]
He *knew* I couldn’t walk properly.
That I was weak.
That I couldn’t make it ten steps without collapsing.
He didn’t need locked doors to trap me.
I was already caged.
Then I saw movement–two men, heading toward us. Not for me. For *him*. One of them leaned in, whispered something I couldn’t hear.
His jaw tensed.
Then he turned to them and said, “Take her back to the room.”
“No!” I screamed, lunging back. “Let me go! You can’t do this to me!“}
But he was already walking away, deep in quiet conversation with the older man. Leaving me to the younger one. The guard who looked like he was used to women breaking apart in front of him.
He didn’t move.
He didn’t speak.
He just stood there.
Waiting.
Waiting for me to give up. Waiting for me to surrender.
But I wasn’t ready to die again.
And if this man thought I was just some broken little wife from a broken little marriage->
He was about to meet the part of me they never managed to kill.
