Where His Love Became My Hell

So after he and Lori returned from Monaco, I began to swallow my pride and desperately try to win him back.

I brought him the blood test results, but no matter how I explained, Magnus refused to believe me, convinced it was just evidence I'd paid a doctor to fake.

Helpless, I tried to win him back with the art supplies he had given me, the only photograph he had ever taken, the small mementos that held our secret memories.

But for every memento I showed him, he burned another.

Eventually, I even put on the black silk dress he once loved and clumsily danced for him, hoping my nominal husband would stay in my room for just one night.

Magnus did stop. For the first time since the wedding, he approached me.

But just as his lips were about to touch mine, he pinched my chin, a cruel smirk twisting his lips.

"Isabella, are you really this cheap?"

"Too bad I'm particular about cleanliness. I don't touch anything filthy."

The next day, he appeared with Lori at a private poker game for the heads of Chicago's most powerful families. He threw a file containing my most private information onto the table as his bet.

When his bodyguards dragged me into the room, my eyes landed on the file immediately.

Magnus watched the color drain from my face, relishing my horror with a cruel laugh.

"Do you like it, my dear wife? A gift for our first wedding anniversary."

The room filled with jeers as countless slimy gazes crawled over my body.

Lori leaned languidly against Magnus's chest, her eyes triumphant as she flaunted the rare black diamond on her finger.

"Our dear Bella has always been so artistic. Magnus, this gift is perfect for her."

"But since you got with me, it seems you haven't touched her, have you? For someone like our Bella, who looks so pure but is so fiery inside, it's no wonder she'd get so desperate."

"I'm not a petty woman. She is your wife in name only. Why don't you find some time to satisfy her, Magnus? Otherwise, with how rough you are with me every night, my body can barely take it."

At her words, the look Magnus shot me was one of pure disgust.

"Touch her? I'd be afraid of dirtying my hands."

He turned and kissed Lori's forehead affectionately.

"Good girl. I only want someone as clean and pure as you. With my winnings from this game, I'll buy you that Scottish castle. How does that sound?"

Watching the two of them, so hopelessly in love, I closed my eyes. Tears streamed down my face as a profound despair finally consumed me.

My voice was low and deliberate. "Magnus, let me go."

Hearing my words, Magnus shot me a sideways glance and burst out laughing.

"Isabella, what right do you have to talk about leaving?"

He stood up, leaning down to admire my pained expression, and roughly wiped away the tears on my face with the thumb of the hand that wore his family signet ring.

"You haven't forgotten what I said, have you? I want you to suffer for the rest of your life. We're just getting started, Isabella."

"As long as I say no, you are the property of the Moretti family for the rest of your life!"

And so, to punish my defiance, Magnus moved Lori into the manor.

He desecrated every space I cherished. My art studio, my study, my piano room—each morning I would find them littered with their used wine glasses and Lori's discarded lace underwear.

Insomnia took hold.