เมื่อข้าหมดรักสามีไร้ใจ

(Lyra’s POV)

“I should have never come here.”

I stood frozen outside the ultrasound room, clutching the report in my hands. My fingers shook, not from excitement or anticipation, but from fear. Fear of what I knew was coming. Fear of the truth that I had tried to deny for weeks.

One fetus, alive. Intrauterine pregnancy, 8+ weeks.

I read the words again. I was pregnant. Two months along.

But instead of feeling the joy, the surprise that most women would feel, I felt nothing but dread. The weight of the decision I would soon have to make crushed me, and with it, the fear of facing him again—the man who had destroyed everything I thought I knew about love.

My phone rang, breaking through my thoughts like a thunderclap. I glanced at the screen.

“Rhys.”

I took a deep breath before answering.

“Hello?” My voice sounded far too weak to be my own.

“Come to the office.” His voice was cold, clipped, as usual. It always sent a chill down my spine.

“I—”

The call ended abruptly. No chance to refuse. No room for hesitation. I stuffed the ultrasound report into my bag, my hands trembling as I walked out of the hospital.

The world outside felt like a blur as I hurried to the one place I always found myself at his command—the tallest building in the city.

I didn’t know when it had started, this cycle of coming and going at his whim, but I had long since given up trying to fight it. Rhys Maddox—my husband—had a way of getting what he wanted, and I was no exception. I was a mere tool in his life, a thing to be used when needed. He’d made it clear from the start that my only purpose was to serve him.

I arrived at the suite on the 32nd floor, the office cold and sterile. The scent of leather and expensive cologne filled the air, making my stomach turn. I was used to this place, but it never failed to make me feel small.

I was about to sit down when the sound of the fingerprint scanner outside the door buzzed. The heavy door opened, and in he walked, the man who had ruined my life yet somehow held my heart in his hands.

Rhys. His tailored black suit was a second skin, as if it was made for him alone. His presence was commanding, but cold—always cold.

He barely glanced in my direction as he strode in. His gaze was fixed on something only he could see.

“Did your trip go well?” I forced myself to speak, trying to mask the tremor in my voice as I stood up.

He didn’t respond. Instead, his eyes flickered to the bag in my hand, and without a word, he reached for it. He pulled out a pink lingerie set and tossed it in front of me like it was an everyday request.

“Shower. Put this on,” he ordered, his voice as emotionless as ever.

My cheeks flushed. “I... I’m not feeling well,” I said, biting my lip to keep the tremor out of my voice. “Can’t we—”

His eyes narrowed at the lie. “Stop making excuses,” he said coldly, cutting me off before I could finish.

I had been lying to him for weeks now, but this time, my excuse felt especially hollow. The baby—I couldn’t ignore it anymore. But I didn’t dare tell him.

Instead, I reluctantly turned and walked toward the bathroom. I could feel his eyes burning into my back, and I knew he was waiting, as always, for me to comply.

The water was hot, scalding almost, but I stood under the spray, trying to wash away the dread pooling in my stomach. The pink set Rhys had given me seemed to mock me, each soft piece a reminder of the life I had never wanted but was stuck with.

When I emerged, the room was just as cold and sterile as it had been before. Rhys was lounging on the bed, his eyes scanning something on his phone. I felt small under his gaze, exposed and vulnerable. He didn’t look up when I stepped into the room, but I could feel the weight of his attention.

“Please, can I have just one day off?” I found myself asking, even though I already knew the answer.

He finally looked up, his gaze icy and unyielding. “Do you think you deserve a break?” The question hung in the air like an accusation.

My heart clenched. “I’m not feeling well,” I repeated, my voice barely a whisper now.

His eyes softened for a fraction of a second, but it was gone before I could process it. He sat up, moving toward me with a fluid grace that left me breathless. “You don’t get to refuse me,” he said with a dangerous calm, his voice laced with finality.

I swallowed hard, my throat dry as I tried to avoid his gaze. “When will you stop tormenting me? When will you let me go?” The words escaped before I could stop them, and my eyes burned with unshed tears.

For a moment, Rhys’s expression shifted—faint amusement flashed across his face, as though he were entertained by my defiance. Then, without warning, his hand gripped my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze.

“You want to leave?” He sneered, his voice thick with menace. “Not in this lifetime, Lyra. You belong to me, whether you like it or not.”

My heart shattered as he leaned in to kiss me, and for the first time, I fought back, turning my face away. “I’m not your toy, Rhys,” I snapped, tears threatening to spill.

“You dare refuse me?” His voice was low, filled with a dangerous edge. In one swift motion, he lifted me and tossed me onto the bed, the force of it taking my breath away.

Two hours later, I lay on the bed, my body aching in ways I couldn't explain. A faint red stain marked the sheets, and panic surged through me. My baby.

I barely had the strength to drag myself to the hospital again, my body tre

mbling as I stumbled through the doors.