From Jilted Bride To Ruthless Queen

Avery Bright POV: The man holding my face in a painful grip was a stranger. This wasn't the Alexander who had protected me, who had cherished me. This was a monster, his eyes filled with a cold fury that was all for another woman. A single tear escaped and traced a path down my cheek. It wasn't a tear of sadness, but of utter, soul-crushing disillusionment. The boy I loved was truly gone, replaced by this cruel, possessive man. My tear seemed to break the spell. Alexander' s eyes widened slightly, as if seeing me for the first time. He released my chin, taking a half-step back. "Avery, I…" His phone rang, saving him from having to finish the thought. It was Mark. "We found her," he said, relief flooding his voice. "She was just at a friend's house. Crying her eyes out, said you two had a fight." Alexander closed his eyes, his shoulders slumping. He hung up the phone and looked at me, a flicker of something like guilt in his eyes. But it was fleeting. He didn't apologize. He just got in his car and sped away, leaving me standing alone in the parking lot, the imprint of his fingers still burning on my skin. I touched my cheek, a humorless laugh escaping my lips. It was funny, in a tragic sort of way. I had spent my entire life loving a man who was willing to destroy me for someone he barely knew. That was it. The final cut. There was nothing left to salvage. I got back in my car and drove straight to the airport. I didn't know where I was going, only that I had to get away. I was halfway there when three black sedans boxed me in, forcing me to the side of the road. My heart hammered against my ribs. Alexander got out of the lead car, his face grim. "Get out of the car, Avery." "What do you want now, Alex?" I asked, my voice weary. "Where are you going?" he demanded, yanking my car door open. "Does it matter? Aren't you supposed to be with Kiara?" He ignored my question, his eyes hard. He grabbed my arm and pulled me out of my seat, practically throwing me into the passenger side of his car. "We're going to the hospital." "I'm not the one who needs a hospital." "No," he said, his voice tight as he slammed the car into drive. "But you're the one who is going to apologize. Kiara is a mess because of you. She thinks you hired people to rough her up. To scare her." The accusation was so ridiculous, I could only stare at him. "You can't possibly believe that." "It doesn't matter what I believe," he snapped. "What matters is Kiara. She needs to hear you say you're sorry. She needs to feel safe." He dragged me through the hospital and into Kiara's private room. She was sitting up in bed, looking pale and victimized. The moment she saw me, she burst into tears and threw herself on the floor at my feet, banging her head on the linoleum. "Please, Avery, don't hurt me!" she shrieked, a mad glint in her eyes. "I know you hate me, but I didn't mean to fall in love with him! Those men you sent… they said they'd kill me if I didn't stay away!" "What men?" I was completely bewildered. "I didn't send anyone!" Alexander cut me off. "The kidnappers already confessed, Avery. They said you paid them. Just apologize so we can put this behind us." He knelt beside Kiara, stroking her hair, murmuring soothing words. It was a scene of such tender devotion that it made me sick. "I will not apologize for something I didn't do," I said, my voice shaking with rage. "Kiara, you're lying. Let's call the police right now and have them investigate." I reached for her, intending to pull her to her feet. She flinched away as if I'd burned her. "Don't touch her!" Alexander roared, slapping my hand away. "Have you no shame? She's been through a traumatic experience! The last thing she needs is to be interrogated by the police, having her name dragged through the mud!" He stood up, his towering frame casting a shadow over me. "Apologize to her, Avery. And promise me you will never, ever go near her again." I thought of all the times he had stood up for me, for my pride, for my honor. And now he was asking me to sacrifice it for her. "And who is she to deserve my apology?" I asked, my voice dripping with ice. His hand flew, the crack of his palm against my cheek echoing in the sterile room. The force of it sent me stumbling backwards. My cheek stung, but the pain in my heart was a thousand times worse. He looked at his hand, a flicker of shock in his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by cold resolve. He turned to the two large bodyguards who had followed him into the room. "She needs to cool off," he said, his voice flat and emotionless. "Take her to the morgue. Let her spend some time in there and think about what she's done."