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2026-10-09 23:45:00
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Marrying the Tyrant: You Will Regret Killing Me, Ex-Husband! 089
WRITER'S POVThe digital haunting didn't begin with a loud crash or a falling stock ticker. It started with a quiet, bone-chilling glitch in the middle of the night, slipping through the high-grade security systems like a ghost.Inside his sprawling penthouse overlooking Central Park, Richard Vance was fast asleep. Or he had been, until 3:14 AM.Without warning, the smart thermostat in his master bedroom plummeted sixty degrees in three seconds, turning the air instantly biting and freezing. Goosebumps erupted across his arms. He stirred, pulling the heavy duvet tighter around his shoulders, muttering a curse about a system malfunction.At the exact same second, the sound system built into the mahogany walls crackled to life.It didn't play music.Instead, the speakers began to emit a low, rhythmic scratching noise—the ghostly, crackling sound of an old vinyl record playing a children's lullaby. The exact lullaby Diane Vance used to hum to her daughter Lily, years ago, back when their
Marrying the Tyrant: You Will Regret Killing Me, Ex-Husband! 088
Lily’s POV.The safe house was too quiet.Upstate, hidden by a dense wall of tall pines and heavy fog, the modern glass cabin felt less like a fortress and more like a tomb. There was no bustle of city traffic, no distant sirens, no familiar clatter of coffee cups from the studio.Just the steady, monotonous patter of rain against the bulletproof glass.I sat at the minimalist kitchen island, a cold mug of black coffee clutched between my hands, staring at the glowing screen of the mounted television. On the display, the public retraction I had signed earlier that day played in a continuous loop on a financial news channel.“..Vance Global confirms that prior statements regarding asset mismanagement were unfounded, and Frank has been fully reinstated to his executive duties..."The anchor’s voice spoke smoothly, announcing my doom the same way he would the weather. I watched myself on the screen. My voice had been steady, my posture composed, my expression hollow. I had handed them a v
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Lily’s POVThe hospital room smelled of alcohol and medicine. I hated that smell.I pushed the door open, my hand trembling slightly as I stepped into the quiet ward. Nate was awake. He was propped up against the pillows, his face still pale, but his eyes were open, blinking slowly against the bright overhead lights.Simon sat beside the bed, holding a cup of lukewarm water with a straw, gently helping Nate take a small sip."Ann," Simon whispered, his eyes widening as he spotted me in the doorway. He set the cup down and stood up quickly. "You're here. We thought you went home to get some rest."I walked over to the side of the bed, forcing a weak smile to my face, though my stomach was tied in knots. "I just needed some air. How are you feeling, Nate?"Nate managed a small, raspy cough, his voice cracking. "Like I swallowed a chimney, Ann. But... but I'm okay. The doctor said my lungs are clearing up." He looked past me, his gaze landing on the doorway.Diego stepped into the room,
Marrying the Tyrant: You Will Regret Killing Me, Ex-Husband! 086
Lily’s POV.The phone lay face down on the wet pavement, its screen cracked. Richard’s voice was still faintly tinning out of the speaker before the call dropped dead.My chest heaved. The stench of burning wood and thick black soot burned the back of my throat. Around me, high-pressure water hoses thundered against the brick walls of what used to be my safe space, turning the street into a muddy, freezing river."Lily! Look at me."Diego’s hands gripped my shoulders, pulling me back from the police tape. His dark eyes were wide, scanning my face, checking for shock."Nate and Simon," I choked out, my teeth chattering so hard I could barely form the words. "They were inside. Diego, they were inside—""They're alive," a voice panted. I whipped around. Simon was stumbling out from behind a fire truck, his face streaked with black soot, his clothes singed at the sleeves. Paramedics were right behind him, wheeling a gurney.On the stretcher was Nate. His eyes were closed, his face deat
Marrying the Tyrant: You Will Regret Killing Me, Ex-Husband! 085
Lily’s POV.The interrogation room smelled of bleach and stale coffee.Frank sat across the table, his face a mess of purple bruises and dried blood. The designer suit he wore at the gala, which he’s still wearing, was torn."Lily," Frank croaked, trying to stand up, his cuffs clanking. "You have to tell them to drop the charges. Rich... Richard will destroy you if you keep this up—"I didn't answer. I just watched him through the glass partition, my arms crossed over Diego's jacket, feeling a cold, hard satisfaction in my chest. It felt good watching him sealed away from me, and I couldn’t wait to have him sealed away forever.My phone buzzed. A restricted number.I swiped the screen and put it to my ear. "Who is this?"“Lily, my dear," Richard’s voice purred through the speaker. “Let's be pragmatic. You have my associate locked in a cell, and my stock is dropping. Drop the charges, and we can negotiate a peaceful handover."A bitter laugh escaped my lips."Negotiate with you, Richar
Marrying the Tyrant: You Will Regret Killing Me, Ex-Husband! 084
Lily’s POV.Sienna and Arnold opened the door that led to the private VIP holding room behind the grand ballroom. Diego entered, trailing behind me. He helped me to the bed, and then turned his back to me, massaging his temples and cursing under his breath. He was furious. That much was obvious.I got up the bed and went to meet him by the vanity, my hands trembling as I clutched the lapels of his jacket wrapped tightly around my shoulders. The wool was heavy, radiating his heat, completely swallowing my frame and hiding my gown and wounds.His knuckles were split open, smeared with a dark streak of Frank’s blood, and his own too. He hadn't said a single word since we stepped inside. He just stood there, his massive frame rigid, his chest still heaving with the remnants of his rage."Diego," I whispered, breaking the heavy silence.He didn't move. Slowly, he turned his head.The coldness in his eyes was completely gone, replaced in his dark, stormy eyes by a terror that made my brea
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