He Broke Me, I Broke Us

Vincent did all the housework, gave up his love for racing, and did every romantic thing imaginable just for me. I never doubted his love.

Now, watching him passionately kiss Camellia made my heart crumble into pieces. Did he truly love me?

I trembled with pain, reaching out to him, but he was too engulfed in his steamy kiss with her.

The executioners were prepping their blades. I struggled with all my might, trying to break free from my bonds, but it was no use.

When Vincent left, Camellia removed my hood and blew a cloud of smoke into my face. "Aw, he didn't recognize you. I mean, I get it. You're usually so elegant and pristine, but now, you're filthy and covered in blood.

"You know what? I do want him to destroy you with his own hands. That way, I'll take over and become the most significant woman in his life.

"I bet you didn't know that he was with me at the riding club whenever he told you he was too busy to go to art galleries with you.

"When your grandma was in a dire situation, he told you he couldn't come back to the country. Well, actually, he was looking for my missing cat with me for three whole days.

"Every second he was away when you needed him the most, he was with me."

With every word Camellia spoke, my heart grew colder until it was completely consumed by pain. She watched my expression with satisfaction, clearly enjoying the sight of me falling into despair.

In the distance, I heard Vincent's footsteps approaching. Camellia quickly pulled the hood back over my head. They pinned me down on a cold metal table, where sharp blades lay neatly beside me.

Lucas glanced at Vincent, hesitation in his voice. "Mr. Hawthorn, her fingers have calluses… They look like Mrs. Hawthorn's…"

"That's impossible. She's just texted me back. There's no way this is her."

Tears trickled down my face. Even Lucas recognized my hands, yet Vincent didn't.

He stepped forward and suddenly stomped on my palm. The crushing pain nearly made me black out.

"Pathetic," he sneered coldly. "You thought you could climb your way up by copying every detail of her?"

Without a flicker of emotion, he pressed his lit cigarette into the burn on my wrist and told the executioner, "Carry on."

I trembled, desperately trying to pull away my hands—to protect the hands I used to paint—but it was futile.

Right then, Vincent's phone rang. The moment he answered, his expression softened with a glow.

"Ash's solo exhibition has been confirmed? That's amazing. Book the best gallery in the city, and go all out with the marketing. I want my wife to have the most spectacular exhibition in the world!"

His face was full of contentment and affection, but it felt like a knife lodged straight through my heart. I was right before him, his pride and hope, yet he was about to destroy my everything.

Jealousy flashed in Camellia's eyes as she motioned for the executioner to hurry up. The scalpel sliced across my wrist, and I couldn't hold back a bloodcurdling scream.

I thrashed violently, desperate to break free. Vincent turned around and cast his cold gaze toward me. "Why does she sound like… Ash?"

A spark of hope flared. Maybe—just maybe—he had finally recognized me.

However, Camellia quickly clung to his arm, her face painted with dramatic fear. "She even copied Ashley's voice? That's insane! How twisted can someone be?"

The doubt in Vincent's eyes was quickly replaced with disgust. He ordered his men to cover my mouth, forbidding me from making another sound.

"You'll never be here, no matter how much you try to imitate her."

When I kept struggling, he scoffed and instructed his men coldly, "Don't hold back. She needs to be taught a lesson."

I didn't know how much pain I endured after that. My consciousness began to blur.

…

Suddenly, a shrill ringtone cut through the room. Vincent answered it, and after a few words, his brow furrowed with traces of worry.

"Ash hasn't been home? You can't reach her? What are you guys doing? Go out and find her! Nobody gets to keep their job if I don't see her soon!"

He hung up the phone, agitated. When he noticed his men setting up high-powered floodlights, an idea struck him.

"Turn the power to the max!" he ordered. "Ash's afraid of the dark. I want the entire estate lit up to its every corner!"

He turned, pacing around. "She's probably upset because I haven't been by her side. That's it—she's just mad at me and hiding somewhere to teach me a lesson!"

A cruel smile tugged at the corner of Camellia's lips as she leaned in and whispered something into Vincent's ear. Just like that, he turned away and covered his eyes.