I Died in His Arms, Now He Lives in Regret

Damien's face turned deathly pale, then twisted into a furious snarl. "What did you say?"

"I said, I want a divorce," I repeated firmly, enunciating each word.

"You dare!" He advanced on me in one swift step, his finger nearly jabbing my face. "The contract still has five years left!"

I laughed, an earnest chuckle escaping my lips. "It's fine; I'll find a way to pay off the penalty. I'd rather spend my life in debt than spend another single day as your substitute."

"Who do you think you are? Without me, you're nothing!" His fury was palpable.

I shook my head gently. "I am Sienna, not Isla, or anyone's shadow."

Five years ago, I thought marrying him was my salvation; now, I understand that leaving him is my true rebirth.

I turned and walked towards the door, and this time, I didn't stop.

Behind me, the sound of a glass shattering and Damien's furious roar filled the air, "Sienna! Come back here!"

Once I stepped out of the banquet hall, a cold wind blew, making me shiver and bringing a stark clarity.

Clarity that finally gave me the courage to say, "I want a divorce."

A sleek black car pulled up slowly, the window rolling down to reveal Damien's stern face.

"Get in." His voice was cold, devoid of any emotion.

I shook my head, hugging my arms tightly around myself. "No, I will never go back."

"Sienna!" He practically spat out my name through clenched teeth. "Don't forget what you owe me!"

Those words triggered a flood of painful memories from five years ago...

The rain pattered outside, the bedroom filled with the familiar scent of cologne.

Damien stood by the closet, a light purple silk nightgown dangling from his hand.

"Put it on." He tossed the nightgown onto the bed, his eyes cold as ice.

I picked up the nightgown, the musty scent of old perfume hitting my nose.

"This... is her dress?" I whispered in disbelief.

Damien lit a cigarette, his gaze dark and brooding through the swirling smoke.

"The contract clearly states you only need to do as I say."

Touching the silk gown, a sense of defilement overwhelmed me.

Biting my lip, I walked into the bathroom, tears streaming down my face.

Staring at my reflection, draped in another woman's clothing, I looked like a pathetic puppet, a cruel jest of a clown.

The nightgown was a size too big, hanging loosely on me, a constant reminder of my "stand-in" status.

When I left the bathroom, only a dim bedside lamp illuminated the room.

Damien leaned against the headboard; the moment he saw me, his eyes burned with a heated and unfocused desire.

"Come here." He patted the spot beside him, his voice unnaturally tender.

My steps were rigid, like a marionette on strings, as I moved towards him.

As I got closer, his fingers traced my cheek, but his eyes didn't see me.

"Isla..." he whispered the name that wasn't mine.

I closed my eyes, letting his lips brush my neck.

"Do you know how much I've missed you?" His voice was hoarse, laden with insanity.

I didn't respond because I knew those words weren't meant for me.

His actions grew more intense, as if trying to release years of pent-up longing.

In the heat of passion, he suddenly gripped my throat, the force suffocating me.

"Why did you leave me?" His eyes were bloodshot as he roared, "Why!"

"...Damien..." I struggled to breathe, "I am... Sienna..."

His grip tightened violently, "How dare you impersonate her?"

I was on the verge of passing out, breath strangled from my lungs. I clawed at his wrist desperately, my nails digging into his skin.

Just when I thought I would die, he finally let go.