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Love Has Become a Blade Novel Cover

Love Has Become a Blade

As Soren accepts his dual Best Actor award on television, he praises his current wife and publicly condemns his ex-wife's "heartless abandonment." He has no idea that his path to stardom was paved with her silent agony. To shield him from ruthless industry moguls who wanted to destroy him, she sacrificed her own body and dignity, enduring three years of horrific torment. Watching his glory while recovering from her latest ordeal, she bears his undeserved hatred to keep him safe.
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Chapter 3

Soren, standing nearby, furrowed his brow, seemingly unable to comprehend how I, who used to cry and whine over the slightest scratch, could now endure so much.

"Melody, you still haven't answered my question?!"

"You abandoned me, our promises, our future, just to live like this?!"

I gave a wry smile:

"Yes, even if my life now isn't great, it's still better than living in a basement with you. Please, Mr. Langdon, stop pestering me."

Hearing this, Felicity quickly stepped forward and embraced Soren, gently mediating, "Miss Jefferson, I understand you're going through tough times. Back then, you abandoned Soren when his life hung in the balance, all for money. Now that you see he's powerful and influential, it's only natural you'd want to squeeze some cash out of us. But there's no need to use your body as part of some sob story. Given your past connection, if you need money, just say so directly."

She finished, then turned to Soren, blinking innocently, "But maybe Miss Jefferson really is desperate for cash?"

"Even though you nearly died because of Miss Jefferson's abandonment back then, that's all in the past now."Since she's now resorting to stalking and self-harm schemes just to extort money from us, why don't we give her a hand?"

Felicity's tone was remarkably generous.

But Soren fell silent at her words, his gaze growing colder by the second.

Soon, he turned his attention to my blood-stained sleeve.

His large hand gripped my wound tightly, as if venting his frustration.

"Self-harm scheme? You think you can still make me feel sorry for you? This little scratch of yours is nothing compared to what I went through during rehab. Even if you were to drop dead in front of me right now, I wouldn't spare you a second glance!"

With that, Soren left, supporting Felicity as they walked away in long strides.

I wiped the metallic taste from the corner of my mouth and smiled bitterly at their retreating figures. "Fallon, I hope you mean what you say."

When I returned to my rented apartment.

All my belongings were packed and placed by the door.

Looking at the luggage piled up on the floor, I felt a wave of panic.

This place held so many memories of us.

So even though my doctor had repeatedly warned me that living in a damp basement was bad for my condition.

Fallon had also suggested that I move into the detached house he had rented for me.

But for me, this place was my emotional anchor.I pulled out the only remaining photo of Soren and me from among my many bags, pressing it tightly against my chest. Only then did that overwhelming sense of unease subside.

After calming down, I knocked on landlady Sister Shaw's front door.

I offered to pay ten times the previous rent to stay here.

Sister Shaw finally showed a hint of sympathy, kindly asking if I had offended someone.

Being a divorced mother with a child wasn't easy for her, so I didn't want to make things too difficult. I could only try to recall.

Just as I was feeling lost, my phone vibrated with a text from Soren.

[Melody, what right do you have to live there?!]

This message reminded me of when I had just agreed to Fallon's proposal.

To make me his sharpest blade, he dressed me up like a porcelain doll.

When I appeared in this dim basement wearing an expensive gown, Soren clutched my suitcase tightly.

His eyes were bloodshot as he begged me repeatedly not to leave.

In the end, the usually proud Soren knelt before me, swearing he would work hard to give me everything I wanted if only I wouldn't leave him.

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