EXCEPTION

Agonizing pain ripped through my body, fire searing every vein as tears carved trails down my cheeks. My chest begged him to stop, but Blaine’s face had already morphed into something inhuman—monstrous eyes lit with fury. I folded into myself, arms tightening around my ribs, muffling the sobs that tore free.“Please... Blaine, stop.” My voice cracked, fragile. “I-I just want to eat. What am I supposed to do? I’m starving, my stomach hurts...” My eyes flicked toward him, desperate for a flicker of mercy. But there was none—only flames in his gaze. Then, without warning, he ripped the leather belt from his waist and slashed it down as though punishing a mortal sin.“You stupid, worthless bitch! How many times do I have to say it? Don’t eat anything!” His roar rattled the walls, each word savage. “The grand party’s tomorrow night—you’re meant to look flawless! You think stuffing your face will help? Food will make you fat. Useless. Ugly!”The words dug deeper than the belt’s bite. He shov

Courtney didn’t say a word. He just caught my hand and pulled me out of the house, fast, like the walls were burning behind us.“Courtney! Where the hell are we going? Why are we running?” My voice shook with fear, lungs burning from the sprint.A gunshot cracked the night—loud, ruthless. My heart lurched as if the bullet had kissed my skin. I didn’t dare look back.“What is happening?!” I shouted again, breathless. “Why won’t you answer me? Where are you taking me?”His face stayed locked, jaw tight, eyes like steel. The silence between us felt heavier than the gunfire chasing our steps.We burst through the trees, finally ducking under a thick shadow of branches. He shoved me behind cover, his grip still iron on my wrist. His other hand raised a gun—dark, loaded, unapologetic.A knot formed in my stomach. God... what if he’s one of them?“You!” My voice cracked with anger and fear. “Tell me! Who’s after us? Where the hell are you dragging me? Answer me—”He kissed me.I gasped, caugh

Courtney’s POVAlmost thirty minutes had passed since I ordered Oliver to assist Adeleine. That woman—she is beyond belief. The fact that she entrusted her life to me… the most unforeseen thing I have ever encountered. And now I am fucking accountable for her safety.I will admit, the moment I first laid eyes on her, something stirred—something unfathomable. She is beautiful. But not in the shallow way most women are called beautiful. Hers is a different breed. A rare kind. And judging from what I witnessed earlier, her life in the hands of her husband was nothing short of ruin. That much was clear.But no matter how much she unsettles me, I know this cannot last. My life is not a game, and fate has always dealt me a cruel hand. A woman like her has no place in it. I must send her away—soon, and to somewhere safe. Out of danger. Out of my world.Right now, I have another matter to settle.I stood face to face with the man who murdered the former president of Viasco Corporation—Macario

Morning finally came. My head throbbed like it was splitting in two. Memories hit me all at once, sharp and unrelenting.Holy shit.My hands flew to my mouth. The memory hit me like a freight train—last night, I’d kissed Courtney. Drunk, reckless, without thinking, without him even giving a chance. Panic flared. How the hell was I supposed to explain that? Worse, I remembered how he kissed me back. The heat. The intensity. Just thinking about it made my cheeks burn. But I couldn’t dwell on it. I had to act like it was nothing. Just a drunken mistake.I took a breath, sat up slowly. The bed creaked under me. My eyes fell on three paper bags on the floor. Curiosity got the better of me. Inside, neatly folded clothes, soft, stylish… the kind only Courtney would pick. A small smile tugged at my lips. Thoughtfulness. That’s what he had.But reality hit. The clock. Ten a.m. Already. And me? A mess. What would he think? What could I even say? Anxiety bubbled in my chest, but I squared my shou

Back to Adeleine's POVA week had passed, and truth be told, my recovery was faster than I ever imagined. The wound had healed, my body stronger, and even the lingering ache in my hands felt faint. Courtney had urged me to use the knife, to prove my words, and while that thought alone had made my stomach twist, I couldn’t bring myself to blame him. Not for pushing, not for demanding. If anything, I was grateful. For the first time in forever, I’d felt what it meant to be cared for—truly cared for—by someone who wasn’t just performing a duty. That kind of attention, that raw protectiveness, had been liberating. It had lessened the weight pressing on my shoulders, even if just a little. In this life, treacherous and bloody as it was, that little relief felt like a miracle.Two doctors took meticulous care of me. One focused on my physical injuries, cleaning, stitching, and checking every mark left on my body. The other tended to my mind, coaxing the anxiety and trauma from my system with