Chapter 4: Monsters Don’t Deserve Love

Christian POV

The glass of whiskey was still sitting on the table, untouched. I hadn’t even taken a single drop.

I leaned back on the leather sofa, my knuckles digging into my temples. Each time I moved my eyebrows, one annoying pain would bite into my skin.

Looking up at the arch small mirror, I saw the red trail on my forehead. Natalia actually dared to hit me with a fucking shoe.

All my life, people trembled at the sight of me. Board members bowed their heads as I spoke.

Even my older brother, Lucien, before he got stripped of his title and crawled away into nowhere today, never dared to raise his hand on me.

But Natalia, the daughter of the lowborn Browns, didn’t hesitate while looking at me like a dead bug on the floor and swung.

“I want a divorce.”

“You’ll find out soon, husband.”

I had no idea what the hell she was talking about. What exactly was I supposed to find out? What could a girl like her do to me?

The Natalia I married five hours ago used to blush when I looked her way. She would apologize to me dozens of times, even though she did nothing wrong.

So who the fuck was the woman standing in this room earlier?

I rubbed my face, sighing in frustration. Natalia was having a tantrum; that was just it.

She was probably trying something new to get my attention. I knew by breakfast tomorrow, she would realize she was nothing without me, and she’d come crawling back for my forgiveness.

I’d ignore her like I always did. She’s nothing to me.

⸻

Natalia POV

The second I closed the door of the guest house room, the confident mask on my face melted away.

My knees went weak, and I dropped the bag on the floor.

I slid down the back of the door, my backside pressing against the floor until I sat cross-legged on the floor.

That’s when the tears came—a hot stream flowed down my cheeks, and I had to cover my mouth, my nails digging into my cheeks, to muffle the whimpers.

I wasn’t crying because of Christian. I didn’t give a shit about him. I was crying because the pain from my past life was still burning.

My mind kept throwing me back to those stairs. I could still see my hands stretched out in front of me, asking for help, while Christian walked away with Gemma, turning his back on me.

My hand slid down, clutching my stomach.

There were no babies there. Not yet. They were gone, but I still felt the wounds as if they were fresh.

“I already died once,” I whispered, wiping my cheek with the back of my hand. “I refuse to die again.”

I stood up, still trembling, and turned on the small lamp next to me.

I grabbed the thick leather folder I had taken from the room without Christian knowing.

In my past life, I signed every paper Christian shoved in front of me without looking. But not this time.

I sat on the edge of the bed and studied all the documents, searching for what I needed.

Finally, my eyes fell on the required clause on page 12 of the marriage agreement.

“If both parties mutually agree to a separation due to irreconcilable differences, the marriage can be dissolved immediately without a waiting period.”

Christian thought he would use it to get rid of me when he was tired of me. Well, too bad for him, he would not have that opportunity.

I took a pen from the holder on the desk, and with a firm hand, I signed my name on the dotted line.

Natalia Brown.

I hesitated for a moment, looking at my signature before crossing out my maiden name.

I wrote Natalia Blackthorne.

One last time. Because tomorrow morning, I was going to erase that disgusting name from my life forever.

I got up and walked to my overnight bag, unzipping it. I dug deep into the bag until my hand found the little things I used to cherish.

A photo of us where Christian did not even smile!

A three-page love letter I had written to him but had not given to him because I was afraid.

A white handkerchief—my favorite—where I had stitched his initials, C.B., for weeks.

I picked up a matchbox from the tray near the ice bucket, struck one, and lit a small decorative candle on the nightstand.

One by one, I held the items over the flame.

The photographs turned to ash, consuming Christian’s arrogant face. I threw the burning paper into the glass next to the bed, watching the smoke curl up toward the ceiling.

“This is for my babies,” I whispered, watching the photograph disappear into the flames. “This is for all the tears I cried on the floor.

“This is for the girl who died on the stairs.”

When the last strip of silk turned to ash, I smiled, and for the first time in years, my heart felt light.

The next morning, the sun had barely risen when I opened my eyes.

I took my bath, looked in the mirror, and applied soft makeup; nothing glamorous but enough to turn heads.

I pulled out a pretty dress from the closet and put it on. I was done wearing pastel pinks and soft blues—none of the childish colors Gemma always told me looked innocent on me so that I would look like a plain mouse next to her.

As I walked straight toward the small side exit, one of the guards stepped into my path, raising a hand.

“Mrs. Blackthorne, please,” he said firmly. “Mr. Blackthorne gave strict orders. You are not allowed to leave the estate without a driver and two escorts.”

I stopped in my tracks, only a step away from him.

“Are you here to guard this house…” I asked softly, “…or are you imprisoning Mrs. Blackthorne?”

The man opened his mouth to say something but quickly closed it again. His eyes darted toward the security cameras above the gate.

“I… I’m sorry, ma’am,” he finally said, stepping aside and pushing the iron gate open. “Have a nice day.”

Thirty minutes later, I walked into the glass tower of Blackthorne Global Headquarters.

Board members in three-piece suits stood in groups, sipping champagne from crystal flutes and celebrating the massive stock jump after yesterday’s televised wedding.

But none of them seemed to notice me as I took the private elevator to the top floor.

When the doors slid open, Christian’s secretary jumped up from her desk, her face whitening when she saw me.

“Mrs. Blackthorne!” she gasped, her hands fluttering over her keyboard. “I… Mr. Blackthorne is in a very important meeting with overseas investors—”

“I don’t care,” I said, walking past her.

I pushed open the double-glass doors.

Christian was standing near the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, a glass of scotch in his hand.

He turned around as I entered.

For a second, his eyes widened, taking in my simple cream-colored dress, my smooth hair, and the unsettling presence I carried.

“Have you finished throwing your little tantrum?” Christian asked, setting his glass on his desk.

“I don’t throw tantrums, Christian,” I rolled my eyes. “Only children do that. And the last time I checked, you’re the one who still needs his daddy’s permission to run a company.”

Christian’s hands curled into fists. “Watch your tongue, Natalia.”

I reached into the leather bag.

Christian watched me do it, his lips curving into a sneer. He thought I was going to pull out an apology note or some love letter.

I pulled out a thick white envelope and pushed it out in front of him on the table with two fingers.

“I bought you a wedding gift,” I said.

Christian raised an eyebrow.

“If you think for one minute that you can make me forget what happened last night with some silly present, you are mistaken. I have billions, Natalia. There is nothing you can buy that I want.”

“Open it,” I said softly.

Christian leaned forward, opened the envelope, and removed the papers inside.

Then he went pale.

MUTUAL DISSOLUTION OF MARRIAGE AGREEMENT

It was already signed, dated, and stamped by the hotel’s legal service downstairs.

I calmly picked up cup of warm coffee his secretary dropped on the table and stirred it.

“I already signed, Christian. You do not have to give me a dime of your Blackthorne money.”

The veins in his neck swelled with rage. “What kind of a sick joke is this?”

“It’s not a joke,” I said, staring him in the eyes. “You told me last night that you wanted freedom and someone else. Well, I’m giving you exactly what you want. Sign it, and we will never see each other again.”

Christian slowly, deliberately tore the paper right down the middle. “Problem solved. Now get out of my office, Natalia.”

I reached back into my bag and pulled out another white folder, dropping it onto his desk.

Christian’s smirk wavered.

He grabbed it, tore it in half again, and shoved it into the trash.

I pulled out a third folder.

Dropped it.

He tore it.

His face flushed red.

I pulled out a fourth.

Then a fifth.

“I printed twenty copies, Christian,” I said quietly, stepping closer to his desk. “Would you like to continue? My arm isn’t tired at all.”

Christian’s hand visibly shook as he looked up at me.

“You think this is funny?,” he growled, standing up from his desk and approaching me. “I am never signing that piece of paper! Do you hear me? I need this marriage for the board! This isn’t about you! I don’t even care about you, but I will never let you ruin my reputation!”

He was screaming now, unaware of the red light blinking in the corner of his office phone.

Ten minutes earlier, before I walked in, he had been giving a speech to sixty board members over the internal conference line.

He had forgotten to turn the broadcast button off.

The heavy glass door suddenly burst open.

Christian’s secretary rushed in.

“Sir,” she stuttered, her eyes wide as she pointed at the small red light blinking on his phone, “the… the conference… microphone…”

Christian’s gaze landed on the little glowing red light.

There was a deafening silence as the reality of the situation sank in.

Downstairs, sixty shareholders and hundreds of employees, all heard Christian Blackthorne admit l

his marriage was nothing more than a business transaction to boost the company’s reputation.

I looked at the glowing light, then at Christian’s ashen face.

“Congratulations, Mr. Blackthorne,” I said softly as I turned toward the exit. “Now everyone knows the kind of monster that you are.”

I walked down the steps into the lobby and all eyes were on me, but I don’t mind. I had finally gotten under their CEO’s skin.

My phone suddenly rang, vibrating in my hand.

An unknown number flashed across the screen.

I answered the call and put the phone to my ear.

“Hello, Natty!”

My smile vanished instantly.

Gemma.

“Father invited us all to dinner at the main estate tonight,” Gemma giggled softly, her voice sounding so innocent, so sweet. “You’re coming with Christian, right? Please, be fast sister. I have a surprise waiting for you.”