All Chapters of KISS OF HIS BETRAYAL: Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

Damon sat on the living room couch like a king, one leg crossed over the other, his posture radiating authority. His expression was carved from stone, his eyes burning with fury. He looked every bit the predator, waiting for his prey to stumble closer.“D!” The name tore from my throat, a ragged gasp of relief and burgeoning fear. My heart, which had been a frantic drumbeat of anxiety since he left, now hammered with a different kind of terror.Tears streamed down my face before I realized it. He had come back earlier than promised, and the relief of seeing him overwhelmed me.I dropped everything, my bag, my purse, my phone, the flimsy veneer of my composure, and ran to him. My arms wrapped around his rigid form, pulling him into a desperate, clinging embrace. His expensive suit jacket felt like a shield, unyielding beneath my touch. My lips found his, a frantic seeking, a desperate plea. I kissed him like my life depended on it, pouring every ounce of my overwhelming relief, my misse

I started to dread waking up, knowing what the day would hold. I longed for the simple normalcy of a shared meal, a quiet movie, a conversation that wasn't punctuated by his hands or his lips, diverting me from my thoughts.The Damon I knew — the gentle, considerate lover — who valued my consent seemed to have vanished. This man was a stranger, a beautiful, powerful, utterly dominant stranger who saw me only as a source of endless gratification.By the third week, or was it the fourth week, I felt like a ghost in my own body. My muscles were perpetually sore, my voice barely a whisper, my eyes , when I dared to catch a glimpse in the mirror, were haunted. I was trapped, a willing prisoner in a gilded cage of endless sex. He still wouldn't let me talk.Any attempt to voice my growing desperation was met with a kiss that stole my breath, a hand that wandered to my most sensitive spots, or a lewd, teasing remark that left me blushing and flustered, my original point lost in the haze of r

Days passed like this. I texted Damon again and again, begging him to talk to me, to give me something, anything. His only reply was that he was busy. And then even that stopped. No calls. No texts. Nothing.It hurt— God, it hurt— but I told myself I understood. He was busy. He knew I wouldn’t run away, wouldn’t leave him. He knew I’d stay, no matter how sick or lonely I felt. Maybe he thought I was being dramatic. Maybe he thought I was fine. But I wasn’t.One evening, as I sat numbly watching a movie, my phone buzzed. Alex. “Shefali,” his voice was bright, urgent— no greeting, no pause. “I’m coming over in an hour. Get dressed. We’re going out.”I froze. The thought of leaving the house felt impossible. My body was heavy, my mind fogged. I was drained, drowsy, a mess in every way— physical, mental, emotional. The cage I lived in had stripped me of strength.But maybe… maybe stepping outside with Alex would help. Maybe it would remind me I was still alive.I swallowed the hesitation

He stood like a king in exile, commanding the room with nothing but presence. His suit was black, glittering under the lights — not his usual formal armor, but something younger, sexier, almost playful. He looked like a guy in his — early twenties — a man you could break millions of hearts — all sharp features and clean-shaven charm.I loved him with stubble, that rugged edge that made him look dangerous. But tonight, he looked heartbreakingly handsome.His eyes wandered.Was he searching for me?Did he already know where I was?I held my breath.Then he began to speak.“As you all know,” his voice rang out, smooth and magnetic,“today I’ve gathered this celebration to honor someone close to my heart. Someone I’ve known my whole life — in and out.” he winked.My heart surged.Was it me?The words wrapped around me like silk and thorns — soft, seductive, but laced with danger. I clutched the edge of the bar, breath caught, pulse thudding so loudly I could barely hear the music anymo

PASTShefali’s POVThe cab ride back to Damon’s apartment felt endless. The city lights blurred past the window, neon streaks dissolving into shadows, but I barely noticed. My body was weak, my mind heavy, and yet something inside me had hardened.I wasn’t going to run anymore.I wasn’t going to hide behind tears or sickness.I would face him.The building loomed ahead, tall and glittering, its glass façade reflecting the night sky like a mirror. To the world, it was luxury. To me, it was a cage. A gilded prison where I had been kept, adored and discarded, loved and broken.The elevator ride up was suffocating. Each floor that ticked past felt like a countdown to something inevitable. My heart thudded against my ribs, my palms damp, my breath shallow.When the doors slid open, silence greeted me.The apartment was exactly as I had left it — immaculate, cold, untouched. His scent that intoxicating mix of musk and spice, had faded, like a ghost.I dropped my bag on the couch and stood i