All Chapters of My husband's twin, my ruin: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Mark's POV.The heavy slam of the study doors cut through the room like a gunshot.Cassie jumped, her fingers instantly ripping away from the front of my shirt. The sudden distance she put between us felt like a physical chill hitting my chest. I didn't flinch. I slowly turned my head, my arm dropping from around her waist, my eyes narrowing into a dangerous glare at the threshold.It wasn't David.Julian stood in the doorway, completely out of breath. His face was pale, his hair messy, and his knuckles were white as he gripped the wooden frame to steady himself. He didn't even apologize for interrupting us. His eyes darted frantically from me to Cassie, his chest heaving with a panic I had never seen on him before.“Sir,” Julian gasped out, his voice raw. “You need to get down to the lower gates. Now. David’s private security detail just breached the main driveway. He brought a team of external corporate auditors with him. They’re launching an immediate, unannounced asset sweep of th

Cassie's Pov.Five days later the bruises on my upper arm had turned a deep, ugly purple.Every time the fabric of my dress brushed against the tender skin, a sharp ache reminded me of David’s fingers digging into me.He hadn't returned to the estate since two days now, doing God knows what. The house felt wider, emptier, and completely suffocating. David, I cared the least about but Mark? Julian said something came up at his motorcycle company. I couldn't stay inside these walls anymore.I stood in front of the mirror, carefully adjusting the sleeve of a cream, long-sleeved top to make sure the marks were completely hidden. Today was supposed to be a step toward my actual life. Months ago, before the wedding chaos swallowed me whole, I had sent out my interior architecture and textile portfolio to a small, prestigious boutique art gallery downtown. They had finally called me back for an interview to discuss a guest-curator layout plan. It was my dream—the only thing that belonged

CASSIE's POVThe kitchen was pitch-black, illuminated only by the weak, silvery moonlight cutting through the glass. The rest of the massive estate was dead silent. Every time Mark pressed the cold, antiseptic wipe against my raw palm, a ragged catch escaped my throat. I winced, the sharp sting of the alcohol biting into my torn flesh, making my chest heave as I tried to stay perfectly still.He sat on a low barstool, caging my trembling knees securely between his hard thighs as I sat perched on the edge of the marble island. The heat radiating off his body was overwhelming, trapping me in a sensory cage that I couldn't break out of."Stop moving," he muttered, his voice a rough, low blade slicing through the quiet room. His head was bent over my hands, his dark hair falling over his forehead, hiding his eyes in the shadows."It stings," I whispered, trying to pull my hand out of his grip. My voice sounded small, fragile, and completely broken in the vast emptiness of the kitchen.H

CASSIE'S POV“Well, this dinner or gathering has been dismissed,” Eleanor announced, dabbing her mouth and disposing the silk napkin like it was going to stain her manicured nails. The maids and kitchen staffs stepped forward to clear the table. I fled upstairs. I did not wait for David. I certainly did not look back at Mark, whose dark, piercing gaze had followed me all the way out of the grand hall.Now, inside the master bedroom, the silence was a heavy weight pressing down on my chest.I stood in front of the vanity mirror, my fingers trembling as I unzipped the emerald green velvet dress. I let the heavy fabric pool around my feet, leaving me in nothing but my thin white satin slip. Slowly, I turned my arm toward the mirror. The light from the crystal sconces caught the four distinct, dark purple fingerprint marks on my skin. They looked worse tonight. More defined. A grotesque branding of my husband’s ownership.A sudden, sharp click of the bedroom door handle made my stomach

MARK'S POVI didn’t wait for her to answer. I grabbed her wrist—delicately, entirely mindful of the deep purple fingerprint bruises my idiot brother had left under her sleeves—and dragged her out of that suffocating dining room. Behind us, David was still screaming, his voice cracking with a pathetic, paranoid rage that echoed off the high ceilings of the foyer."Mark! Get your hands off her! Cassie, if you walk out that door—"I slammed the heavy oak entrance shut, cutting his voice off entirely. The silence of the afternoon air rushed over us, thick and heavy with the smell of coming rain.Cassie stumbled behind me on the gravel driveway, her breath coming in short, jagged gasps. "Mark, stop. Please, just let go of me. You can't just throw her out like that. You can't just ruin his setup. The fallout... you don't know what he'll do to me when you're not looking.""He won't do a damn thing," I gritted out, my jaw aching from how hard I was clenching my teeth. The sheer image of Ser