She offered him her heart, her trust, her everything and her soul only to face betrayal, heartbreak, and being discarded as if she meant nothing to him. Eleanor Sinclair was once a delicate, vibrant, quiet woman who loved intensely and wholeheartedly, but love caused her immense pain and regret. Married to the ruthless, wicked and influential Damian Blackwood, she suffered through his cold indifference, harsh words, and the stifling loneliness of an absent and void love. When he wrongfully accused her of infidelity and cast her away, she lost everything: her dignity, her aspirations,her goals, her life maybe and the child she was carrying. Left for dead, Eleanor faded from existence, but she didn’t die. Instead, she emerged from her suffering, forged in the fires of pain and revenge, becoming the very nightmare of the underworld. No longer the timid, weak woman pleading for affection, she returns years later, powerful and driven by a singular mission: to destroy the man who ruined her life, to kill him and burn him if possible. However, Damian Blackwood is unlike any other. Ruthless, strategic, and more dangerous than before, he never expected the woman he once threw away would come back stronger, more lethal and destructive, and beyond his reach. The moment he lays eyes on her again, he recognizes his error. She was never the weak one he was. Now, he’s determined to pursue her, plead, and break every rule to reclaim her for good. But Eleanor has no heart left to offer. Not while the fire of revenge still courses through her veins. He feels regret. She seeks vengeance. Let the pursuit begin…
View MoreEleanor's POV
SLAP!
The impact and sound of Damian’s palm hit my cheek with such force that I tumbled backward. For a moment, my vision became blurry, and a strong pain ran through my face. The world around me turned around, the big chandeliers above turning into streaks of gold. Gasps filled the ballroom, followed by a suffocating and usual silence that felt like a heavy weight pressing down on me.
I pressed my fingers to my burning cheek, the sting only adding to my pain. While my ears rang from the blow, tingle tingle, the pounding of my heart was even louder. This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t possibly be happening to me.
Damian Blackwood, my husband, my love, my everything,g stood before me, his gaze filled with cold, unyielding fury, just like that of a dagger.
"You ungrateful whore! You bastard" he roared, his voice moving through my entire being.
I recoiled at the venom in his words. My lips twisted, trying to defend myself, but my throat felt dry and my mind was a blank and sorry slate.
The grand ballroom of the Blackwood Estate was packed with the city's elite wealthy businessmen, influential politicians, and high-society figures all of them were staring at me, their expressions filled with judgment and hate. The celebration was supposed to honor our anniversary, a night to honor our love. But love had vanished at that moment.
Because tonight, love had turned into betrayal, and that really hurt.
Damian held my wrist, drawing me closer with a strong and firm grip that felt like it could crush my bone into piece. "How dare you make me look foolish?" His fingers dug painfully into my skin like a lion claw.
Desperately, I shook my head. "Damian, please, I don’t get it! What are you talking about?" My voice shook, barely above a whisper.
He let out a harsh, mocking laugh. "You don’t get it? Perhaps this will jog your memory, you stupid idiot."
Turning to his right, my stomach dropped as Vincent Moreau, Damian’s closest associate and friend, stepped forward. His sharp, predatory look shined with satisfaction as he handed Damian a thick envelope. Damian tore it open and revealed a series of glossy naughty photographs.
He throws them to the floor at my feet.
I looked down, and the ground beneath me seemed to crumble.
There I was, Eleanor Sinclair Blackwood captured in various naughty images. But the woman in those pictures wasn’t really me. She was in a hotel room, too close to another man's body, to f*cking close, smiling, resting on his shoulder. In one photo, my hand rested against his chest, caressing it; in another, our lips were almost touching each other.
A wave of icy and cold terror washed over me. "No… this can’t be true!" I gasped for breath. "This is fabricated, Damian! I promise you!"
But he wasn’t listening to me. He had already made up his mind.
"You make me sick," Damian spat, his once passionate eyes now void of emotion. "You were carrying another man’s child while pretending to be my wife in my own home."
His words cut through me like a knife. I stumbled back, shaking my head unsteadily. "No, I would never do that"
Vincent sighed with exaggerated disappointment. "Tsk, tsk, Eleanor. Lying at this point is simply sad." He shook his head, smirking. "We have witnesses. The hotel manager saw you check in. The staff verified it was you."
Desperation moved inside me as I faced him. "You’re lying! You set this up! You framed me!"
Vincent just smirked. "Prove it."
As my hands trembled, I reached for Damian. "You know me. You love me. You know I would never betray you!"
But Damian recoiled as if my touch burned him.
"You’re no wife of mine," he said, his voice cold and firm. "You mean nothing to me."
The pain that followed was far worse than the slap. Far worse than all of his accusations. Because Damian wasn’t just ending our marriage he was erasing me from his life entirely.
"Throw her out," he commanded.
Before I could understand what was happening, the guards moved forward. Strong hands seized me, dragging me toward the exit.
"Damian, please!" I cried out, struggling against them. "Just listen to me! I swear, I never betrayed you!"
But he turned his back on me.
He didn’t even glance back as they led me away.
*****
The door was closed behind me, and the chill and freeze of the night air brushed my unprotected skin like needles. My body was shaking from the cold, the shock, and the crushing realization that my world had just been dismantled, that my life had just been totally destroyed.
I stood outside the grand estate, my vision fading by unshed tears.
My life had been torn away.
I had no money, no family, no home.
The dress I wore- a custom piece that Damian had once admired on me- now felt like a cruel mockery. My hair was rough, and my face was swollen from tears and humiliation.
The rain began to fall lightly at first, then heavier, soaking me all through.
I couldn’t move.
I had nowhere to go.
A sickening twist in my stomach served as a bitter reminder that I wasn’t alone in this.
I placed a hand on my lower belly.
Our baby.
I had planned to tell Damian tonight. I had rehearsed the words over and over. But instead of sharing what should have been the happiest news of our lives, I had been discarded like trash, the pain...
I inhaled sharply, forcing myself to stand tall and still.
I needed to think. I needed to
A sharp clicking sound broke the silence.
Footsteps.
I turned just as a black SUV pulled up. The tinted windows rolled down, revealing Vincent’s smirking face.
"Need a ride, sweetheart?" His voice filled with mockery.
I stepped back instantly. "Stay away from me, you bastard."
He laughed lightly. "Now, now, is that any way to speak to the man who just helped ruin your life?" My nails dug into my palms out of frustration. "Why are you doing this?"
Vincent leaned against the window, his smirk widening. "Because, Eleanor… I wanted to witness the moment you will finally fall."
Rage moved within me, but before I could respond, the back door of the SUV swung open. Two masked men came outside. Panic flooded through me. I turned to run.
But it was too late. One of them seized my wrist, pulling me back.
I screamed, kicking and thrashing, but they overpowered me. One of them pressed a cloth over my mouth, the sharp, sickly scent invading my senses. No. Not like this.
Darkness covered my vision. Damian, I thought faintly, before my world slipped into darkness….
ELEANOR SINCLAIR She thought the phone would never be answered.The phone rang once, twice, and on the third ring, the voice, silky and smooth but with a cutting edge of malice, answered with a friendly tone. “I knew you'd call back, Eleanor.”“What do you want from us?” Eleanor's voice came out as a torn whisper, a shadow of her usual voice. Jenny watched curiously, holding the baby as she clenched the phone tighter in her hand, her knuckles white.“Oh, darling, that's the easiest question of all. I love that you are far smarter than your knucklehead husband and your foolish sister.”“What do you want?” Eleanor asked again.“I want what's mine.”“I don't know what you're talking about. What are you saying?”A low laugh, devoid of humor, flowed over the line. “Don't play smart, Eleanor. You should know perfectly well what I'm speaking about. If not, then you should probably be able to guess what it is that I want…”“No. I can't guess.”“I should be a bit more specific, then. Your h
ELEANOR SINCLAIR Night had fallen when Eleanor at last settled into their bed. The house was so quiet that the only sounds were the soft rhythmic whir of the air conditioner and the quiet sucking sounds that told of feeding from her son. Again, she thought of Damian and how the last few hours had been a blur of taut phone calls and unsent texts to him. Her heart had the old, sick hurt, a sensation that had been her loyal companion since the day she'd met him. She had worried about him and the evil life he led, and now she was even more bothered that she pushed him back. As soon as he left the house that afternoon, she had felt it even without knowing that he had gone, and a shiver of ominous dread settled in her stomach. It was the feeling of everything going terribly awry for him. She called him immediately to ask him to come back home, but his phone went to voicemail. She called his men too—those of them she knew and long dreaded, but they did not know where he was. So had the
DAMIAN BLACKWOOD It was even darker when Damian opened his eyes. He woke up to a throbbing headache, while the rough texture of stone scraped against his cheek. Groaning, he pushed himself up, his muscles protesting with a dull ache as he saw that he was in some kind of cellar or dungeon. The walls were made of rough-hewn stone, slimy with moisture, and the only source of light was a single, flickering bulb on the far wall. The light cast dancing shadows that made the cramped space feel even tighter. “So that bitch got me,” he growled to himself. His head swam with the memory of the prick of the needle, the burning sensation, and Cassandra's cruel, mocking laughter. He cursed himself for being a fool, for walking into her trap, alone. He had been arrogant, blinded by his rage and the need to protect his family. He should have listened to his instincts, brought his men, and come prepared for a war, not this pathetic little skirmish. Now, he was at her mercy, and alone. He stu
DAMIAN BLACKWOOD Damian didn't sleep a wink the previous night.But he was more rested this time. Eleanor's forceful treatment did the wonders, and now his eyes were not tired anymore. It was just that it was more difficult for him to sleep, so he remained awake, watching.It was already morning when one of his soldiers arrived with a drone that they had shot down, and the drone carried a letter with it:"I think the time has now come when you should understand what it is that I want.And I wish to see you and talk about it. But whatever you may do, take care of your wife and child, for if I am not well pleased, I shall take them in my charge also. If you wish to view me, then visit me at the garage at 5:30PM and with no men. There is no need for them.With love,—Lena.”Damian snarled and tore the paper apart in a rage of raw indignation, his teeth clashing so hard together he felt the stinging for the audacity of the woman. He had never even heard the name, and already she was thr
CASSANDRA JACOBS So she had three targets.First was Ailean… whatever his surname was, and whether he could be called her stepson. No—she was never married to Vincent, and they never held each other to any bonds of exclusivity or marriage. They were just friends who liked to have sex and sex parties and sex orgies with each other until Vincent fell in love with her and wrote it in a final letter.She pitied the little boy, indeed.It was one thing to be born to a woman like his mother—foolish, poor, and willing to do anything for money (she was not an exemption, but from what she knew, Helen-Nora was the foolish kind that did anything for money, without cunning or smarts), and it was another thing to be so hated by his father that he would try to kill him, and not just on one try. He was now somewhere in one of Vincent's hiding places, clean shaven and emaciating next to his mother. Sometimes, she wondered how best to let them die—to kill them outright or to let their hunger finally
CASSANDRA JACOBS She had believed him.That was her mistake.She had done it so much that she waited, but he never returned. And no soothsayer needed to tell her something was wrong when she had not heard from him hours after their last phone call, not with how panicked his voice had sounded when he had not returned as he said he would that night. It was the first time she ever heard him talk like that. With fear. Then she heard of his death. It was from one of his men who had come to see her, sent by him. Cassandra did not cry. He had not been constant enough, and she never felt pain when she heard of another death. Yet, it had hurt her eyes and she had simply closed her eyes and let the rage consume her. The father of her child and the only man who knew who she was had now gone. Oh, how she had deceived herself to think it meant nothing. Vincent had been a ghost in life—her life— one who came and went, but his death, the one thing she was not prepared for, because she never im
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