Chapter 2

"Lauren! Don’t push your luck!" Michael’s voice thundered in warning.

"Push my luck?" I shot back, my voice trembling. Whether from the searing pain in my leg or the chill sinking into my heart, hot tears streamed down my face.

The moment he saw me cry, his expression softened. "Forget it. We’ll talk later. I’ll take you to the hospital."

He stepped forward, ready to scoop me up. Instinctively, I flinched back. My wounded leg slammed against the edge of the table, instantly soaking the bandage in red.

"Get out," I hissed. "I don’t need you to take me anywhere. Get this: we’re already divorced!"

The second he abandoned me to run to Nora, I stopped believing in him.

Michael’s fists clenched, and his entire body trembled. He bit back his rage, then stormed out, slamming the door so hard the walls rattled.

When the silence settled, I opened my laptop, drafted my resignation, and sent it to HR.

The shocked HR manager fired back over a dozen frantic messages, saying she couldn’t approve it without Michael’s consent.

I braced myself for a fight.

However, a single minute later, the notice came through. My resignation had been approved.

So that was it. Michael didn’t have a shred of feeling left for me.

—

The next morning, I went into the office to pack up my things.

Whispers followed me everywhere. Everyone already knew I’d quit. I ignored them, methodically boxing up my belongings.

Suddenly, a cup of half-drunk coffee slammed onto my desk. The rim was still smeared with pink lipstick.

"Lauren," Nora said, her eyes glinting with challenge. "Print this contract for me. I’ll treat you to coffee."

I rose slowly, then in one swift motion, splashed the sticky drink all over her smug face. "I’ve quit. I’m divorced, so stop circling around trying to disgust me with that trash, Michael."

Coffee dripped from her hair, staining her blouse. She looked utterly pathetic, and her eyes were welling up.

Michael came rushing over. His gaze softened with pity as he gently dabbed at Nora’s face with tissues. Then, his eyes cut to me, sharp as a blade. "Lauren, you’ve gone too far! Apologize to Nora. Right now."

Triumph flickered in Nora’s eyes before she ducked her head, tugged at Michael’s sleeve, and whispered, her voice trembling sweetly, "Michael, don’t blame her. I only wanted to share my favorite drink with her. I forgot… Lauren’s from the city. She’s not used to people like me."

The words dripped with false humility.

Michael’s veins stood out in his temples. He barked in a raised voice, "Does being born in the city make you better than everyone else? Does that give you the right to trample on someone’s kindness?"

His glare seared into me. "Pick up that coffee and drink it."

The office fell silent. Colleagues, who had been eavesdropping, now openly stared, waiting for the spectacle.

Eyes stinging, I backed away. However, Michael lunged forward, seizing my wrist in an iron grip. He shoved me toward the floor, grinding the spilled coffee into sticky sludge beneath my shoes.

"Apologize!" he ordered.

I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood, and shook my head.

Something dark flickered in his gaze. His voice dropped, low and chilling. "Lauren, why have you always been defying me lately?"

His grip tightened, brutal. "If you won’t apologize to Nora, then you need to reflect."

He dragged me toward the storage room, my body straining against his hold. I fought to wrench free, but his fingers only dug deeper into my wrist.

The warehouse was stifling and claustrophobic. Dust hung in the air. He shoved me inside, pinning my hands together with one arm while the other reached for a coil of grimy rope in the corner.

My eyes went wide. "Michael, don’t—"

Before I could finish, the rope bit into my wrists. He tied the knot tight and unyielding. His lips brushed against the back of my hand, teeth grazing my skin as he murmured, "You’ve been spoiled lately. You’ll stay here and reflect on what you did wrong."

"I didn’t do anything wrong…"

His finger pressed against my lips, silencing me. "Shh. Think it through before you speak."

The rip of tape cut the air. A strip clamped across my mouth.

I twisted, trying to bolt while he adjusted it, but he yanked me back by the rope, forcing me onto a chair.

The rope circled again and again, locking me in place until I couldn’t move. My wound tore open, staining the floor with blood.

Michael slammed the heavy iron door shut.

On the other side, his voice came muffled, but as cold as a blade sliding between my ribs, "You’ll stay here until you admit you were wrong. Only then will I let you out."