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He Made Me Bark Like a Dog Before Choosing His Mistress Novel Cover

He Made Me Bark Like a Dog Before Choosing His Mistress

I've struggled with emotional detachment since childhood. I remained distant from everyone, with one notable exception—Camden Perry. When I was mocked, he would go all out defending me; when I was bullied, he fiercely stood up for me. Out of gratitude for his kindness, I worked hard to overcome my condition. The day I was declared free from this affliction, I excitedly headed to the bar to share the good news with him immediately. But the Camden who once cherished me seemed like a different person. With a cold, mocking tone, he said, "Just the daughter of a convict, you guys can have her as your plaything." "And honestly... she's probably as lively as a wet noodle. Don't blame me if she's a letdown in bed." My blood ran cold instantly, and tears followed belatedly, sliding down my face. - Suddenly, the door was pushed open, and my expressionless face was exposed to everyone.
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Chapter 2

The city blurred into streaks of neon and raindrops, the cold biting into my skin like tiny knives. I walked without purpose, my legs aching, my vision hazy from exhaustion and heartbreak. My hands still trembled from where they had been forced against the floor. Bark like a dog. Camden's voice echoed in my skull, a cruel reminder that the boy who once protected me had been the one to shatter me completely.

Camden didn't come home last night.

There was no explanation, not even a quick message, as if the person who had stayed by my bedside through the night when I was sick wasn't him at all.

When I woke up the next morning, my head ached slightly, and my forehead felt a bit warm.

Suddenly, the phone rang—it was Camden.

A flicker of hope rose within me. Yesterday must have been a misunderstanding; he couldn't possibly treat me that way.

"Isla," Camden's voice was soft, "bring the bracelet I gave you and meet me on the rooftop."

The bracelet.

It was a family heirloom passed down through generations to the daughters-in-law of his family. He must be apologizing for what happened yesterday.

I didn't even change my clothes. In my slippers, I rushed to the rooftop, completely forgetting my fear of heights.

Camden was there, smoking.

Hearing my footsteps, he turned and smiled, motioning for me to come closer. As I reached him, he gently touched my face and smiled softly, "Isla, don't blame me."

In the next moment, he gripped the back of my neck and pressed me against the railing at a dizzying height, making a wave of nausea rise within me.

Yet, he laughed.

He untied his tie and wrapped it around my hands, securing me to the railing. "Isla, I'll come back for you in ten minutes."

The rooftop door closed, and my pupils dilated.

"Isla, I'm sorry, if there's a next life, I'll make it up to you," echoed my father's words.

Memories of him bleeding before me replayed continuously in my mind. I struggled desperately, but the tie only tightened.

Something fell, landing bloodied on the ground below.

I retched but couldn't make a sound, only silent tears rolled down my cheeks.

With a loud crash, the rooftop door flew open.

Camden hurriedly untied the tie and pulled me into his arms, apologizing repeatedly.

Adriana snatched the bracelet from my wrist and slipped it on hers. "Only I can be the Perry family daughter-in-law. A fool like you thinks she can be the lady of the Perry family?"

Camden remained silent.

The earlier chaos gradually subsided. I pushed Camden away, my legs weak as I slowly turned and walked off, my body still shaking violently.

The moment I got home, a high fever set in, and I drifted into unconsciousness.

In my dreams, I saw scenes of my parents' deaths, Adriana's bullying, and Camden standing up for me.

But then, the scene shifted.

Now, Camden pressed my head against the railing, forcing me to bark like a dog.

Half-conscious, I fumbled for my phone and made an international call, my voice barely a whisper.

One call. One ticket. One escape.

"I need to leave the country," I whispered, barely hearing my own voice over the storm outside.

Suddenly—the door slammed open.

The stench of whiskey filled the air before I saw him.

Camden.

His eyes were red-rimmed, his grip brutal as he yanked the covers away. The room spun, the weight of his body pressing into me.

"What do you think you're doing, Isla?" His voice was low, dangerous. "Running away?"

My breath hitched. I was too late.

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