Chapter 8
“Enough!”
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I looked down at him from above–this man I once idolized, this man I poured my entire being into loving. At this moment, he was utterly repulsive!
So repulsive I couldn’t bear another glance.
“Edward, your remorse, your tears, every pathetic excuse you scrape together for your despicable actions–they only make me sick to my stomach.”
His body stiffened violently. He stared up at me in disbelief, the last flicker of hope in his eyes snuffed out completely.
“You claim you finally see my love? See the damage you caused?”
I gave a faint, mocking twist of my lips.
“No. You never saw anything.”
“Your regret now? It’s just fear–fear of losing your freedom, losing everything–and rage at being betrayed by Samantha! What does any of that have to do with me?”
My gaze swept over his swollen forehead, his tear–streaked face. Not a shred of pity remained–only icy detachment.
“Get out. I never want to see you again.”
“Whatever end you and Samantha meet? You deserve every bit of it.”
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Just then, sharp, cold knocks echoed from the door, followed by a stern
male voice.
“Open up! Police! Edward Clark, you are under investigation for bigamy, commercial fraud, and coercion of a woman. Cooperate now!”
Edward jolted as if electrocuted, collapsing bonelessly to the floor. All color drained from his face, leaving only ashen despair.
His final look at me brimmed with desperate pleading, terror, and agony.
But I had already turned my back.
Police officers hauled him up from the floor, dragging him away unsteadily. As they crossed the threshold, he wrenched around, mustering his last strength to scream.
“Donna! I’m sorry! I was wrong! I swear I was wrong! Please-”
My answer was the decisive, echoing slam of the door shutting firmly in
his face.
My judgment in men had always been poor. I’d loved the wrong one. But at least now, I’d cut my losses in time.
News of Edward’s arrest spread like wildfire. David appeared before me almost instantly.
“Donna, come back with me.”
I curled my lip coldly. “Where? To Cater Manor? To be your caged songbird?”
His brows furrowed sharply, irritation flashing at my defiance. Yet he quickly banked it, forcing an unnatural, stiff “gentleness” into his tone.
“Donna, you’re intelligent. You know this place isn’t safe now.”
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“Reporters, Edward’s associates, even that madwoman Samantha–any could show up. You need the best environment for the pregnancy.”
Pregnancy. The word stabbed into my nerves like needles.
I lifted my head, meeting his fathomless dark eyes directly.
“Sorry, David. Like I said–I won’t be keeping these children.”
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The air around him plunged to freezing. His gaze turned lethally dangerous.
“And like I said–it’s not your choice. One day, you’ll walk willingly into my home.”
Thus began his “pursuit“-or rather, his self–righteous compensation.
A top–tier private hospital’s prenatal package landed before me. Leading obstetricians made house calls.
The nutritionist and nanny team followed closely, attempting to permeate every corner of my life.
Expensive tonics, jewelry, even a bank card bearing staggering figures- all were quietly arranged into my existence.
The more forcefully he tried to envelop me with material possessions and power, the clearer and firmer my resolve grew to strip this child away.
This wasn’t just because it was David’s child, but because this child carried the weight of my most humiliating and traumatic memory.
Every kick, every bout of morning sickness relentlessly reminded me of that drugged night when I was offered as a substitute.
David’s obsessive possessiveness terrified me.
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Keeping this child meant an eternal, unbreakable umbilical cord tethering me to him.
He’d forcefully intervene–even dominate–my future and the child’s, all under the guise of fatherhood.
Having barely escaped Edward’s cage, must I now plunge headfirst into David’s far sturdier gilded cage?
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