All Chapters of LOVE BENEATH RIVALRY : Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

Her words dissolved into the hum of the car engine.Leonard looked out his window, his jaw tightening. The faintest flicker of conflict passed through his eyes, but it was gone just as quickly.He turned his head slightly toward her and spoke, his voice a low growl.“You made your bed, Elisa. Now lie in it.”Her breath hitched — but she didn’t speak again.The car came to a stop. Two guards appeared outside, opening her door.“Take her,” Leonard ordered flatly.As they dragged her out, she didn’t resist. Her steps were slow, almost mechanical. She glanced back once — not at him, but at the rain that began to fall slightly outside the prison gates.It looked like freedom.Just in a matter of seconds the cell door slammed shut with a heavy metallic echo that seemed to rattle her bones.And then there was silence.Days bled into nights, weeks folded into one another until time lost its meaning.Elisa no longer counted the hours. She no longer marked the days on the wall with bits of chal

Elisa, breathing heavily, tried to sidestep, to move away, but her pregnant body weighed her down. Every step made her groan softly, her chest heaving. She could feel the pressure of her swollen belly with every movement, her small, aching feet protesting each shift. She was exhausted, physically, mentally, emotionally—but she refused to bend.Leonard’s hand shot out, gripping her hair with sudden violence. Pain lanced through her skull as he yanked her back toward him. “What makes you think you have the right to act freely?” he spat, his voice cold and unfeeling. He raised his free hand and struck her across the face. The slap landed with overkill, echoing in the sterile room. The guards flinched; even they, accustomed to his brutality, looked away, unease flickering across their faces.Elisa fell to the floor with a grunt, curling slightly to protect her abdomen as pain radiated up from her midsection. She gasped, wincing, each breath a laborious effort. “Stop… it… it hurts—” Her vo

The moment her eyes fluttered open, the sterile white of the hospital room pressed down on her like a tomb. Her body was stiff, sore, and every breath dragged through her chest with a dull, aching resistance. Bandages hugged her abdomen tightly, reminding her of the ordeal she had endured. The machine monitors that beeped softly beside her were the only companions in the room, constant and unyielding reminders of the trauma she had survived—yet barely.Her mind immediately recoiled to that day—the day Leonard had ripped her son from her arms, the cruel words he had uttered as if gloating over her pain. Her fingers twitched helplessly against the sheets, the heaviness in her limbs an anchor of despair. The memory of the boy, her son, alive yet slipping away from her forever, made her chest ache in a way that no physical pain could.A soft sound broke through the haze of her thoughts. The door to her room opened, the familiar figure of a nurse stepping in, face drawn with concern.“Miss

The days that followed Leonard’s last visit bled into one another with the slow, crushing weight of despair. Two days passed, and Elisa had stopped crying—not because the pain had dulled, but because the well of tears had run dry. She hadn’t eaten in what felt like ages, the meals brought to her by indifferent guards left untouched, rotting on the tray as her body slowly weakened. The echo of Leonard’s last words haunted her incessantly: “Sit quietly and await the day of your execution.” She had tried to imagine him softening, even once, but the memory of his smirk, the cold gleam in his eyes as he walked away from her, left her hollow.On the morning of her execution, a kind female officer approached her cell. Her presence was soft but deliberate, as if she carried a burden she dared not share.“Miss Darkhorse,” the officer said quietly, kneeling to her level. “I’ll be overseeing your final meal. Is there anything you’d like… before today?”Elisa looked at her blankly for a long mome

Elisa awoke with a sharp gasp.Her eyes snapped open to a ceiling she didn’t recognize — high, white, and softly glowing with recessed golden lights. For a moment, her mind felt hollow, floating, as if her thoughts hadn’t completely returned from the darkness. She lay stiffly on a bed far too plush, too warm, too luxurious to belong to a prison cell or an execution chamber.Where am I?Her breathing sped up. Her fingers curled into the silk sheets beneath her. She jolted upright instantly — far too fast — and dizziness crashed over her in a nauseating wave. But she forced herself through it, panic sparking in her chest, adrenaline cutting through the haze.Her last memory was—The blindfold.The chair.The needle touching her skin.The explosion.Screaming.Being hauled upward by a stranger.Running.The van.The gag, the ropes, the plane—A voice that sounded… familiar.Her heart hammered painfully.I was kidnapped. I’m still kidnapped. Oh God.She scrambled off the side of the bed d