Forced to Marry My Bully

The skin beneath his brows was flushed red, his eyes burning.

The moment he saw me, he let out a soft chuckle.

"Alice, you’re getting harder and harder to control."

He pressed me against the sofa, yet even now, he still placed a hand on my waist to keep me from hitting the armrest.

His gaze was dark, like a raging storm.

"Where’s Lily Shaws?"

I tilted my head up and asked, but he only scoffed lightly.

"She’s gone."

"You left the house with her this morning."

"I got rid of her a long time ago."

A strange, unnameable feeling stirred in my chest.

I looked away, unwilling to meet his eyes.

His forehead lightly rested against mine.

For a fleeting moment, I thought I saw a glimmer of wetness in his dark eyes.

"Alice, you didn’t drink your milk today, did you? Did you throw it away as soon as I left?"

I stayed silent.

Yes, I hadn’t touched milk in days.

Maybe I was just as stubborn as Ethan—once I didn’t want to do something, no one could make me.

But Ethan never cared whether I was willing or not.

A fresh glass of warm milk was soon placed in front of me.

He sat across from me, staring intently.

"Drink it."

I knew the milk itself didn’t matter.

What mattered to him was whether I would listen.

I pressed my lips together, refusing to look at him.

Over the past few weeks, I tried to resist, but the outcome was never in my favor.

Tonight would probably be no different.

I refused to drink, so Ethan grabbed my chin, ready to force it down my throat.

Somehow, I could tell that he was angry again.

I clenched my teeth and resisted until, in the end, he let out a sigh.

Holding my gaze, he tilted his head back and took a sip of the milk himself.

Then, gripping my chin, he kissed me.

My teeth were pried apart, and the liquid slid past my lips, invading my mouth.

The cloying sweetness of milk was mixed with the recklessness of a drunk man who had lost all restraint.

It made me feel sick—like something was stuck in my chest, suffocating me.

I couldn't hold it in any longer.

Tears welled up and spilled over as I sobbed, and only then did he finally stop.

The night was silent and merciless.

I stared at the vase of dried flowers by the entryway for a long time.

Eventually, his voice broke the stillness.

Low. Hoarse. Fractured.

He pulled me into his arms, his body always unbearably warm, burning against my skin.

Over and over, he murmured apologies in my ear.

"Don’t cry. I was wrong, Alice. It’s my fault..."

"Please, stop crying... okay?"

At that moment, I almost believed that, all along, I had been someone he cherished.

…

A man who was satisfied was always easy to reason with.

I tested his limits by saying I didn’t want to see Lily again.

The next day, I saw her tearfully packing her suitcase.

I couldn't understand Ethan anymore.

He wasn’t the kind of man who obeyed my words so easily.

And besides, wasn’t Lily his first love?

When something didn’t make sense to me, I usually just asked.

But all he did was narrow his eyes and ruffle my hair—his usual way of brushing me off.

"Alice, you were never anyone’s replacement."

See? Men always knew how to spin pretty words.

As long as he didn’t want to, he would never tell me his real intentions.

The only one being played here was me.

…

Maybe it was the stifling summer heat, but even the housekeeper’s best meals hadn’t tempted my appetite these past few days.

Forcing down the last bite of pork chop and pasta, I rushed to the bathroom and threw up, gripping the toilet for support.

At that moment, my heart suddenly skipped a beat—fast and erratic.