LOGINSara no longer cried. Her eyes, once filled with fear, had turned hollow. Revenge was the only fuel left in her soul after her father was ripped away.
Roger walked into the room without knocking. He watched Sara packing her meager belongings into a small bag, her hands no longer shaking.
“Damon will never admit it,” he said quietly, flicking his lighter. “But you and I know the truth. He orders his servants to dispose of your father whenever he grows bored with his toys. You’re just a toy he’ll discard soon.”
Sara froze. Roger’s lies masked the fact that Iris was the true mastermind.
“What do you want?”
“I have an escape route,” Roger continued. “Tonight, I will fake your death in a dockyard accident. You will have a new identity and vanish forever. In return, I will frame your departure as a kidnapping by an enemy organization. Damon will lose face, and his reputation in my father’s eyes will be ruined.”
Sara was now certain of Roger’s intent. He wanted Damon’s destruction, just as she did.
She looked at her flat stomach. She would not let this child grow up as a tool for her husband’s torment.
“I agree. I want to disappear completely from that monster's sight.”
“Good.” Roger smirked thinly. “Follow my instructions. When the sirens blare at the harbor, slip through the underground logistics tunnel. The cargo ship departs at exactly 2:00 AM. Don't look back... or you won't make it out alive.”
The hours that followed felt like a slow, agonizing countdown. Left alone in the dim room, Sara didn't dare to rest.
Every tick of the wall clock echoed in her chest like a heavy thud, a reminder of the dangerous gamble she was about to take. She left her own things behind, choosing only to clutch a few precious keepsakes left by her late father.
Her gaze remained fixed on the window as twilight bled into a pitch-black midnight. Outside, the pavilion was suffocatingly quiet, but she could feel the underlying tension. Roger’s men were moving in the shadows, executing a plan that would either buy her freedom or seal her doom.
She took a deep, shaky breath, pressing her palm against her stomach one last time to draw strength from the new life inside her. There was no room for hesitation now.
Exactly at midnight, the fragile silence shattered.
The sky above the Moretti logistics port was ripped apart by a massive explosion. Roger had intentionally sabotaged the armory, forcing Damon’s entire intelligence unit to rush to the scene.
Amidst the chaos, Sara ran through the darkness as instructed. She passed the pavilion's back gate, which had been tampered with by Roger’s men to look like an intruder's entry point. There, among the bushes, she tore the hem of her dress and left it near the gate—a silent piece of evidence of a forced struggle.
She ran until she reached the iron shipping containers where the cargo ship waited. As soon as her feet hit the deck, the engine roared to life, cutting through the dark sea.
She stood at the stern, watching the lights of the Moretti stronghold shrink until they were swallowed by the night. She gripped her stomach tightly, feeling the faint pulse of life within. A secret her father had never lived to know.
‘I will protect you, even if I have to become a monster,’ she thought coldly.
—
Damon returned just before dawn, his rage overflowing. He kicked Sara’s bedroom door off its hinges, intent on venting his fury on her.
The room was empty.
Damon stepped inside, his gaze locking onto the nightstand. Her wedding ring sat there, glinting in the dim light. But when he discovered the broken back door and the scrap of Sara’s dress snagged on the splintered wood, his jaw tightened.
“Find her!” he roared at the terrified guards at the threshold. “Check the perimeter CCTV! Those intruders made a grave mistake if they think they can touch what's mine!”
Damon snatched up the piece of fabric. His fury peaked. He didn't think Sara had run away. In his eyes, she was too cowardly and too bound by the marriage contract to flee on her own.
The abandoned ring—placed there by Roger’s scheme—and the fact that Sara’s belongings remained untouched, led Damon to the conclusion that she had been dragged away by force.
He stood at the window, staring toward the distant, smoking harbor. His eyes no longer burned with lust, but with a far more terrifying, blood-soaked obsession. If they had taken her, he would burn the world to ash just to drag her back.
Damon wouldn’t let her vanish until his revenge was complete.
But now, she was adrift in the middle of the ocean. The cargo ship pressed on, carrying a woman who had gone numb toward a new fate.
Behind her, the dark silhouette of the Moretti empire faded into the fog. She was no longer Damon’s captive. She was a ghost now, carrying a secret that would one day tear his world apart.
Sara no longer cried. Her eyes, once filled with fear, had turned hollow. Revenge was the only fuel left in her soul after her father was ripped away.Roger walked into the room without knocking. He watched Sara packing her meager belongings into a small bag, her hands no longer shaking.“Damon will never admit it,” he said quietly, flicking his lighter. “But you and I know the truth. He orders his servants to dispose of your father whenever he grows bored with his toys. You’re just a toy he’ll discard soon.”Sara froze. Roger’s lies masked the fact that Iris was the true mastermind.“What do you want?”“I have an escape route,” Roger continued. “Tonight, I will fake your death in a dockyard accident. You will have a new identity and vanish forever. In return, I will frame your departure as a kidnapping by an enemy organization. Damon will lose face, and his reputation in my father’s eyes will be ruined.”Sara was now certain of Roger’s intent. He wanted Damon’s destruction, just
There, Iris sat by the large window, staring at the garden with a look of fragility that always deceived those who saw her. But the moment the maid whispered in her ear, that mask of vulnerability shattered.The teacup in Iris’s hand slipped. The expensive porcelain hit the marble floor, shattering into pieces.“Sara is pregnant?” Iris hissed, staring intently at the small object in her maid's hand. Her voice was no longer shaky or raspy. It was cold, sharp, and laced with a predatory threat she had perfectly concealed until now.She gripped the armrests of her wheelchair. If Damon found out Sara was carrying his offspring, Iris’s position as the only woman Damon cherished would be jeopardized. More than that, Damon’s adoptive father would view the baby as a valuable asset. If the child were born, Sara would gain a layer of protection that neither Damon nor Iris could touch.“She cannot bear that child,” she murmured to herself.She didn’t cry. She no longer looked like a tragic vi
Three months of exile in the pavilion had passed.Sara no longer tracked time by the calendar, but by the bruises that slowly faded from her arms. Yet, something felt wrong. Her gaunt frame now felt heavier. The nausea that struck every morning was not merely a side effect of her husband's abuse. It was a clear sign.She had missed her period.“Sara, are you alright?” Her father knocked on the door, his voice laced with anxiety.“I'll be out in a moment, Dad.”She sat on the cold bathroom floor, her knuckles white as she gripped the edge of the sink. She was certain she was pregnant. The seed of the man who came to her room every night—not to offer affection, but to assert his dominance—was taking root.She stood up weakly, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her face was pale, her eyes had lost their spark, and now, a new life was growing within a womb she was supposed to protect.The bedroom door opened. Her frail father reached for her hand gently, but his eyes could not
Sara woke up feeling as if her body had been shattered, a burning soreness lingering across her skin. On that vast bed, she was left entirely alone.The man who had shredded her dignity the night before was gone before dawn, leaving behind tangled sheets and her ruined wedding dress on the floor.She tried to get up, but a sudden, violent tightness gripped her chest. She clutched her throat, her face turning deathly pale as her lungs refused to function properly.The trauma from the previous night had triggered a severe flare-up of her chronic chest condition. With what little strength she had left, she crawled onto the floor, reached for the small bag the guards had carelessly tossed aside the day before, and grabbed her inhaler. After three deep puffs, her air supply slowly returned, leaving her crying silently on the cold floor.At the same time, in the master study of the main manor, the atmosphere was just as cold as Sara’s bedroom.Damon stood by the large window, staring o
Sara wasn’t given the chance to descend from the altar with any semblance of grace. Brutal hands, belonging to guards in black suits, clamped onto her arms and dragged her away like trash being cleared out.Without a word, they hauled her through the front door, tearing her apart from her father, who was shoved roughly into a different car.By late afternoon, the separate vehicles arrived at an isolated pavilion on the hilltop, still within the Moretti estate. Even there, they were kept under heavy guard, as if they were high-profile criminals.The mountain air seeped into her bones, chilling her to the core, matching the terror that had taken root in her heart. Night brought a suffocating cold into the vast master bedroom of the pavilion.Sara sat on the edge of the bed, still in her wedding gown. Her mind was a whirlwind of unanswered questions.She had already asked her father, but even Albert Sterling knew nothing of the Moretti family. Her father had never been involved with su
The pen trembled in Sara’s hand as she signed the contract. That night, under the cold, lethal muzzle of a gun pressed to her father’s head, she had sold her freedom.Yet, she hadn’t expected the promised hell to begin so soon.The following day, Sara stood frozen in the grand hall of the Moretti estate. The simple white wedding gown felt like a noose. Her damaged lungs flared up, triggering a familiar tightness in her chest fueled by sheer panic. She stood entirely alone at the altar. There were no warm floral arrangements, no music, and most crucially... no groom. Damon Moretti hadn’t bothered to show up, proving he had forced this marriage not to claim her, but to trample her dignity from day one.The silence in the hall was thick enough to drown in. Sara could hear the erratic thud of her own heart. Below the altar, dozens of eyes watched her with contempt, their faces twisted in sneers as hushed, derogatory whispers filled the room. They were members of the Moretti mafia—h







