Semua Bab RELUCTANT BRIDE FOR THE RUTHLESS BILLIONAIRE: Bab 151 - Bab 160

AUTHORS POV The woman in question was bound at the wrists, gasping for breath. Tessa recognized her—the youngest of the waitresses that had greeted her earlier. Before she could scream an alarm, Ferdinand turned. His face was a mask of anger as he barked “who is there!!”.He barked an order to the other free man in the room, and they both lunged at door, Clarissa pulled Tessa dark corner. The man who comes to check did not see them, There’s nobody here, probably a cat” they heard him say out loud from where they were hiding. He slammed the door, but they continued to hear the young girl screaming her lungs as all four man straddled and ravished her , pushing her at themselves like a piece of fresh meat being ripped by bulldogs. The woman behind the door screamed again, and Tessa’s world narrowed. She spun away, stumbling over a stray crate, and ran to her room. Ferdinand’s laughter chased her into the night. She sprinted back toward the cabin, lungs burning, adrenaline fuel

AUTHORS POVShe jumped, dropping the rag. Her legs obeyed before her mind could, scampering back behind the counter. Her hands shook as she picked up another cloth and resumed wiping, her head bowed low. But her eyes—they stayed sharp, watching every movement from the corner of her vision.The blood. The hair. The way the girl's form had twisted unnaturally under the fabric. She had been alive last night. Breathing. Crying. Pleading.Tessa hated that she had to witness such gruesomeness.She had heard it all.She had done nothing.Sir Ferdinand leaned in toward one of the men, speaking in raspy, too-low tones. The man nodded curtly and walked out through the backdoor.Then Ferdinand turned to Clarissa. "Get one of the girls to replace Alicia. I need strong ones. No crybabies."Clarissa paled. Tessa saw it—the shift in her expression, the slow realization sinking like a stone."Yes, Sir," Clarissa replied, voice neutral.Tessa's chest seized.Alicia. That was her name. Alicia.Tessa's

Tessa's jaw clenched. "So you feed others to the same monster eating you alive?""I do what I have to," Clarissa snapped. "You think I sleep at night? You think I don't hear the screams, or see the blood? I hear it all. I see it. And I keep going because if I stop—if I stop—then there's no money for the medicine, no roof for my daughter, no food. Nothing.""And what about them?" Tessa whispered. "What about girls like Alice?"Clarissa looked away. "They knew the rules.""No pregnancies," Tessa said slowly, as if the words were poison."No attachments. No disobedience. No questions," Clarissa finished grimly. "Alice broke all of them.""That doesn't mean she deserved to die!"Clarissa turned back to her, eyes wide, voice shaking. "You think I don't know that? You think I'm not haunted every night? Don't you dare act like you know what it's like to have your back to a wall with nowhere to go. You've been here for what? A few weeks? I've survived here for three years."Tessa stepped back

AUTHOR POV The next day, Clarissa woke to the sharp sting of pain along her ribs, her breaths shallow and brittle. The linen of the hospital sheets was brittle beneath her bruised back and tender shoulders. She drew in a shaky breath, every inhale a reminder of last night’s horrors. She’d been beaten—tortured—for protecting Tessa—and yet she still lived. Guilt coiled around her like a serpent. Every fiber in her body screamed in protest, but her spirit burned more fiercely by the memory of freedom still possible. Bruised and battered, she strained to sit up. The iron taste of blood on her lips reminded her why she’d suffered: Ferdinand’s men had accused her of inciting rebellion, of poisoning the girls’ minds. Because she had spoken up—softly, firmly—to protect Tessa. She had dared to help one soul, and now she lay broken on a bed she no longer recognized. With effort, she pushed aside the thin blanket. There was no other light in the room except a flickering lamp on a bedside t

AUTHORS POVAll these while it had been a long painful dream!Clarissa felt like screaming as eyelids fluttered open against the thick darkness of her room. For a moment, she lay still, heart pounding, the remnants of her dream clinging like wet clothes: the look in Ferdinand’s eyes the moment she raised the knife, the slick of red spreading across his crisp white shirt. She blinked, disoriented, and rolled onto her back. The digital clock beside her bed glowed 2:17 AM, its red numbers unexpectedly loud in the silence. She sat up sharply, sheets slipping from her shoulders as she swung her legs to the floor. Her chest heaved; sweat beaded on her skin. It had only been a dream—only a dream. Her hands trembled in the dim light as she knelt by the bed to steady herself. A single kerosene lamp was lit on the dresser, its flame flickering against the peeling wallpaper. Shadows danced like phantoms, and sparks of memory from her nightmare flared. She pressed her palms into her eyes. It’s