Captive of the Ex-Lover

Chapter 10 —

BANG!

Daryl flung open the apartment door and yanked Cheesy inside without a word.

"Get in!" he barked.

Cheesy let out a long breath. 'What's the point of resisting?' she thought. It would be useless.

Wasting no time, Daryl grabbed his phone and made a call.

"Very, bring the contract to the apartment now," he snapped. "It needs to be here in fifteen minutes."

From the corner of her eye, Cheesy watched Daryl, trying to guess what new game he was playing.

Not even fifteen minutes passed before the doorbell rang.

Daryl opened the door just a crack, took a brown folder from Very’s hand, then slammed it shut again.

"Here," he said coldly, throwing the folder at Cheesy’s chest.

She instinctively caught it. "What is this?" she asked warily.

"Read it."

Her hands trembled slightly as she opened the folder. Her eyes scanned the first page, then the next.

The more she read, the more hollow she felt inside.

It was a contractual agreement. The terms were crystal clear.

Cheesy was to become Daryl’s mistress—at his beck and call, unable to refuse him—until the day he married his fiancée.

In return, she would receive a large financial compensation.

Her eyes fell on the bold-printed figure.

Enough for multiple rounds of chemotherapy.

Enough to live on for several months.

Enough to cover Ellen’s school fees.

Enough to start a small business for her daughter’s future, considering she didn’t have much time left.

Cheesy held her breath, then let out a dry chuckle—a bitter sound that made Daryl’s chest tighten inexplicably.

"This contract is incredible, Mr. Daryl. Did I read the bonus part correctly?" Her voice trembled, somewhere between laughter and tears.

Daryl didn’t respond. His eyes were sharp, his jaw clenched tight.

Cheesy stared back at him for a long moment, then, without hesitation, picked up the pen on the table and signed the contract with a swift stroke.

Silence. Only the ticking of the wall clock echoed in the room. Daryl clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white.

Was it really that easy?

Did she surrender herself just like that?

No resistance? No bargaining? No tears?

"My disgusting body is apparently worth quite a lot to you, Mr. Daryl," Cheesy said quietly, as if reading his thoughts. "To me, money matters more now."

Daryl stepped closer, his eyes burning with fury.

"How long are you going to keep selling your dignity for money, huh?!" he hissed.

Cheesy gave a faint smile—one more painful than any cry.

"Until I die," she whispered.

Daryl froze. His fists trembled even more.

"I hate you more and more," he muttered, mostly to himself.

Cheesy gave a small nod. "I also hate that I’m bound to you by this contract, Mr. Daryl."

Tension thickened the air between them. The room felt like it was closing in on them both. Daryl looked down, trying to suppress the chaos inside him.

Then, with heavy steps, he snatched the contract from her hands.

"Starting tonight," he said coldly, "you officially belong to me."

Cheesy nodded. "Yes, Mr. Daryl."

Her heart shattered into pieces, yet she surrendered herself to the man she once loved—for a price that could be counted.

Moments later, Daryl’s phone rang loudly, breaking the silence.

Reluctantly, he answered without even looking at the caller ID.

"Hello," he said flatly.

"My love! I’ve landed at the airport!" Clara’s cheerful voice rang out. "Come pick me up, I missed you so much!"

Daryl closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling sharply.

"I’m on my way," he replied briefly, emotionless.

He hung up, grabbed his jacket, and headed for the door.

Cheesy stood in the corner, hugging herself tightly, her eyes empty as she watched him.

Before leaving, Daryl glanced at her one last time. His look was cold. "Don’t try anything while I’m gone."

The door clicked shut.

Silence. Then Cheesy let out a low, bitter laugh that echoed in the large room.

"How funny," she murmured, walking toward the large window, staring out at the overcast sky.

"In the last stretch of my short life, I’ve become the prisoner of the man who hates me the most."

She looked down, squeezing her trembling fingers. And yet... strangely, she felt a bit of relief.

"At least I can be near him," she whispered, a broken smile forming on her pale lips. "Even if it’s just to be his punching bag, his object of hatred, his toy... it doesn’t matter."

Tears welled in her eyes, but she wiped them quickly with the back of her hand. She couldn't afford to be weak. She had made her choice. This was the path she chose.

"If I die..." Cheesy took a deep breath, calming herself, "...Daryl won’t be hurt. He hates me too much."

She imagined Daryl marrying Clara, living the perfect life he’d always wanted—free from the burden of a cheap girl named Cheesy Evelyne.

She closed her eyes and let the pain flood her chest.

'Daryl... ' his name floated softly through her thoughts.

"I’ll keep loving you... even when I’m no longer in this world," she whispered faintly.