His Cruel and Twisted Atonement

The silky fabric did little to hide the hard muscle beneath.

Just as I was about to undo the last button, Griffin seized my hand.

His face was a cold, indifferent mask as he stopped me with immense force.

"Cora, do you have any idea what you're doing?"

I nodded, looking up at him.

"Your father wants us to build a life together, to have a child."

Griffin slowly pried my fingers away.

He smiled, but his eyes were glacial.

"You're just as cheap as your mother."

"Then again, what can one expect from a woman with no morals?"

He shoved me away, throwing a prototype necklace I cherished at my feet.

The silver chain and gemstone fragments scattered across the hardwood floor.

I stumbled, crashing hard against the mahogany coffee table behind me.

He stepped on my fingers, his gaze burning with disgust.

"Don't think having a child will clear the slate and let you leave me."

"Cora, no one will ever truly love you."

"You will stay here like a piece of furniture—quiet, useful, and without a single thought of your own."

Griffin's expensive shirt hung open, buttons undone, revealing the solid muscle honed by years at the gym.

I glanced at him once, then calmly looked away.

Since that disastrous wedding night, Griffin had never touched me again.

He was disgusted by the very thought of me and always surrounded himself with other women.

Consequently, the grandchild his father so desperately longed for was never conceived.

"Cora," Griffin called my name, his voice unusually soft.

It was a rare, almost gentle tone from him.

I looked up. He stared at me, his eyes filled with undisguised mockery.

"Perhaps you should find someone new to try, too."

"Youth and vitality make all the difference."

I smiled and turned to leave.

I knew he only said it to humiliate me.

If I ever actually did it, he would lose his mind.

"Cora," Griffin suddenly called from behind.

I turned, a puzzled look on my face.

He waved his phone, the screen displaying an electronic invitation.

"We're going to a charity gala tonight. Be ready."

…

I was confused. Griffin had never taken me to a public event of this scale.

After our marriage, he wanted nothing to do with me in public.

But this time—

It wasn't until we stepped into the art gallery's main hall that I understood.

I was on his arm when my eyes fell upon a familiar figure not far away.

I froze, my feet feeling as if they were bolted to the floor.

Rowan Sinclair… he was back.

Griffin noticed my stiffness and leaned in, whispering in my ear, "What's wrong? Excited to see your high school sweetheart?"

He looked up, his gaze following mine.

Their gazes locked across the room.

Griffin didn't flinch, a smirk playing on his lips.

He picked up a glass of wine and strolled toward Rowan.

"Mr. Sinclair, I've heard so much about you."

His taunting gaze flickered to me for a moment.

Then he raised his glass to Rowan. "I hear you and Cora were in the film club together. It's a shame you couldn't make it to our wedding."

Rowan gave him a cool glance, then his eyes slowly settled on me. "Long time no see, Cora."

I took a deep breath, my voice slightly hoarse when I spoke. "Hi, Rowan."

The air between them crackled, thick with unspoken history.

Rowan's appearance had blindsided me, stirring memories and emotions I had long since buried.

Griffin's grip on my arm tightened, a silent assertion of his control.

He continued the conversation, his tone light, almost cheerful, but I could hear the sharp edge beneath it.

"You know, Rowan, Cora rarely talks about her past. I'm sure the two of you have a lot to catch up on."

I glanced at Griffin, trying to decipher his game. Was this just another attempt to humiliate me, or was there another motive?

Rowan's gaze never left my face. Those eyes, which once shone with sunlight, were now an unreadable abyss. Griffin's voice slithered on, a venomous current in the frozen air between us.