Chapter 4 Her blood on his hands

When she arrived at Alexander's company, the secretary blocked her way.

"Ophelia, you can't go in—"

"Move." She pushed the secretary aside and entered Alexander's office.

The painful scene unfolded before her once again: Raine was nestled intimately in Alexander's arms.

"Ophelia, what are you doing here? Weren't you...?" Raine shrieked.

"I told you I didn’t want to see you," Alexander said coldly as he stood up.

Ophelia flung the divorce papers onto his desk. "Sign them, and we’re even."

Alexander’s pupils constricted sharply. "There will be no divorce, Ophelia. Remember that."

"See, Raine? Alexander never planned to marry you. All your scheming was for nothing," Ophelia sneered at Raine.

"Ophelia, what are you talking about... I never dared to dream of becoming Alexander’s wife. Just being by his side, helping him through his struggles—that’s enough for me."

"Alexander, have you made your decision?" Ophelia ignored Raine’s pitiful act, her gaze turning icy.

She took a step toward them, her fingers curling into fists.

"You never loved me, did you? Those nights, those promises—all lies, weren’t they?"

Alexander stood a few feet away, expressionless, but she saw the tension in his jaw, his hands clenched into fists. Beside him, Raine clung to his arm, her face feigning concern.

His silence made Ophelia’s chest heave violently, her heart shattering further.

"You believed her over me. You never trusted me, Alexander. But why?" Her voice was barely a whisper. "Because you never loved me."

She caught a flicker in his eyes, but it wasn’t enough. From now on, nothing ever would be.

"You hate me, don’t you? You always have. This was all about revenge, wasn’t it? Because of your mother." She glared at him, her eyes burning. "Raine hates me. She poisoned you against me, didn’t she? So why accuse me of infidelity and all that bullshit? You planned this from the start. It was always about your vengeance."

Alexander stiffened slightly, his lips pressing into a thin line, but he remained silent, watching her unravel.

The silence shattered something inside her.

He flinched, his expression softening for a fleeting moment, but it was too late. Ophelia had already made her decision.

Her gaze caught a glint on the floor—a shard of glass, sharp and jagged, reflecting the moonlight like a dagger. Without thinking, she snatched it up, gripping the cold edge tightly.

Raine’s eyes widened in horror. "Alexander!" she screamed, stumbling back, but she was never Ophelia’s target.

Because before Alexander could react, Ophelia lunged. Her arm swung in a deadly arc, aiming straight for his throat.

His instincts kicked in just in time. He jerked back, the blade slicing through the air mere inches from his skin. A sharp pain flared across his shoulder as warm blood seeped into his shirt, drawing a sharp gasp from him.

Then he saw Ophelia’s eyes—wild, desperate, burning with madness, sending a chill down his spine.

"You deserve this," she snarled, clutching the glass tighter.

Alexander’s chest heaved. "You wanted to kill me," he uttered in disbelief.

A bitter smile twisted Ophelia’s lips. "No, Alexander. I just wanted you to feel it. The pain I’ve felt all this time."

The wind howled around them, carrying the echoes of her grief and fury into the night.

The cemetery reeked of damp earth and decay, the cold wind whistling through the bare trees. The night was thick with the scent of impending rain, distant thunder rumbling—a storm was coming.

Suddenly, she was yanked back by his bodyguard. She struggled, but the glass shard cut into her arm and hand. Blood dripped down her fingers.

"Get away from her!" Alexander roared with deadly fury when he saw the blood on her.

The bodyguard hesitated. "Sir, she—"

"Shut up and do as I say," Alexander warned, his dark gaze shifting to him, his tone laced with a threat sharper than any blade. "Or you’re dead."

The bodyguard swallowed, bewildered but not daring to disobey. He stepped back, leaving Ophelia crumpled on the floor.

Alexander looked down at her, his face a mask of coldness, but a flicker of something almost like disbelief flashed in his eyes. The woman before him was no longer the Ophelia he knew. No, that Ophelia had been warm and steadfast, radiant with life.

This one… this one was broken, unrecognizable, her body ravaged by her own torment.

He dropped to his knees, seizing her wrists and pinning her beneath him, ignoring her struggles. He tightened his grip, his nails digging deep into her flesh.

"Ophelia," he growled, watching her writhe beneath him. "You’ve truly lost your mind."

She let out a bitter laugh, a smirk playing on her lips despite the pain. "Yeah. And whose fault is that?"

Her words struck him harder than any blade. He clenched his jaw, forcing his emotions beneath layers of ice.

Ophelia’s bloodied hands clenched into fists against the damp ground. "Go on, Alexander. If you hate me so much, kill me. But first, answer me. Why? Why wasn’t ruining me enough? Why did you have to destroy my family and take my child?"

He remained silent, but his fists tightened.

She exhaled shakily, staring up at the man above her.

"You know what, Alexander?" Her voice was softer now, as if she wanted him to hear every word clearly. "My biggest regret… was falling in love with you."

A twisted shadow crossed his eyes as he stared at her, but she didn’t stop.

"I shouldn’t have slept with you. I shouldn’t have married you." She swallowed the lump in her throat. "I shouldn’t have… given you… my heart."

Alexander’s breathing grew ragged, something foreign and cold seeping into his bones.

A memory surfaced in his mind.

"I, Ophelia Harvey, will only ever marry Alexander Gray and spend the rest of my life by his side."

That night, she had stood in the grand ballroom, radiant under the golden chandeliers. She had smiled at him, her eyes full of love and devotion, unaware that she was pledging her life to a man who would one day destroy her.

That woman was gone now. What lay before him was a hollowed-out shell. A broken person. Someone he had ruined.

She looked up at him, her eyes empty. "Alexander, I don’t love you anymore. I never… will again."

The wind howled, carrying her words like a curse. She parted her lips once more, her voice fragile yet sharp as a dagger. "But tell me… if I give you my life, will you give me back my child?"

Alexander’s breath hitched, his fingers twitching at his sides.

"What the hell are you talking about, Ophelia?" His voice was eerily calm, laced with something dark. "You deserve nothing."

His words gave her the final push.

Before he could react, before he could process the weight of the moment, Ophelia moved. She swiftly grabbed the knife beside her, its blade still stained with dried blood, and plunged it into her own abdomen.

The world seemed to freeze. For the first time in his life, Alexander hesitated. The sound of the blade tearing through flesh, the sharp gasp that escaped her lips—it all happened too fast for him to grasp.