Page 7 of My Ruthless Husband

I cover my aching chest with a trembling hand. Trying to swallow a sob, I say, “Me.”

“Does it matter?”

I step forward and clutch fistful of his shirt desperately. “It does. I want to know why you married me when you never wanted me to begin with!” I sob. “I want to know why you played with me like that. You isolated me from everyone I loved. You made sure I was dependent on you financially, emotionally, and in every way possible.” I stare at him through the onslaught of tears. “Just tell me, damn it!” My voice trembles, and when he still says nothing, the silence hits harder than words ever could. I shake my head. “It was easy, wasn’t it?” I say, quieter now, almost to myself. “I was too easy. Too easy to push, too easy to fool. Too easy to manipulate.” I pause for a beat, then, “Actually, you didn’t even have to manipulate me because I was happy with the mere crumbs you gave me!”

“You’re upset,” he remarks.

I release a humorless laugh. “Yes! Thank you for noticing. God knows how much I craved to be noticed.” The last part was a silent murmur. A confession that really isn’t a confession because he knows how much I begged for his time.

I’m an introvert. I never enjoyed socializing or crowded rooms. Always preferred solitude. But even I can’t survive like this—cut off from the world. And that’s how my life was back home. When he’s away on his endless business trips, the loneliness becomes unbearable.

His guards won’t so much as glance at me for more than a second. The housekeeper and the maids keep their distancedespite my numerous attempts to talk. It’s as though everyone in that house was instructed to treat me like a ghost.

And Damian? He’s no better. Even when he’s touching me, even when he’s inside me, he says nothing. He gives nothing. Just cold indifference. The thought of going back to that life grips me with panic. I press my trembling hands against my chest, trying to hold myself together as the words spill out. “I can’t live like this.”

He tenses. “It’s not uncommon to feel caged in our house given the huge space and few people. I’ll tell my secretary to ease up my schedule so we could go on a holiday every once in a while.”

I shake my head. “You know damn well a holiday won’t fix this.”

He checks his watch. “It’s late. Get some sleep. We leave in a few hours.”

I stare at him, unable to move, unable to speak. Did he even hear me? Or does he just not care? I poured my heart out, laid my pain bare, and he brushed it off like it was nothing. Tears sting the corners of my eyes, but I blink them away. He doesn’t deserve them.

I should confront him about the files I found in his home office. I should demand answers, force him to explain. But after watching him dismiss me so ruthlessly, I can’t find the strength.

This marriage has made me feel like a fool, desperate and pathetic. I’m already carrying more than I can handle, and if I add anything else to this weight, I’ll fall apart. I just can’t do it.

Right now, I should stick to what’s important. “I’m not coming back.”

He walks over to the chair and picks up his tumbler. Bringing it to his lips, he takes a sip, savoring the drink.

“Didn’t you hear what I just said?” I cry out.

He finishes the drink then sets the tumbler down. Without a word, he crosses the room. When he’s in front of me, he reaches out and cups my cheek. “I did. But what you’re asking, angel is simply out of the question.”

“You can’t force me.” I sniffle.

Tilting my face, he kisses my lips softly. “I won’t.” He then reaches into his pockets and retrieves something. He extends both his closed fists in front of me.

When I just stare dumbfoundedly, he sighs and says, “Choose one, angel.”

I reluctantly touch his right fist. He twists his hand, palm facing up, slowly revealing what he’s holding inside.

“My sleeping pills?”

He kisses my cheek. “Good choice, angel.”

My heart sinks. “What do you mean?”

He opens the other fist, revealing a syringe. I stagger back in shock.

“I would hate to hurt you unnecessarily. So the sleeping pill is the safe bet.”

Did he… Did he just? No. There’s no way he just implied that. I am speechless. He can… sedate me to take me home? A chill runs down my spine. He didn’t say it outright, but the implication was there.

He wants me unconscious, to keep me out of the way while he drags me back home like a possession. I’ve never seen this side of him before. Was he always this ruthless? Did I miss the signs? Or was I too blind to see the darkness in him?

I cry out in surprise when I’m swept off my feet. I clutch at Damian’s neck. “What are you doing?”

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