Page 5 of My Ruthless Husband

The next morning, I ran. You might think I left because I was angry or hurt. But that’s not the truth.

Yes, I was heartbroken when he missed our first wedding anniversary. Devastated, even. But to leave my husband over that? Who does that? Who walks out just because their feelings were hurt?

No, that wasn’t why I ran. I left because, on the very day that should’ve been a celebration of us, I discovered something so earth-shattering, it broke me.

For the first time, I was thankful for his absence. It gave me the space—the courage—I needed to walk away. If he’d been there, if I’d had to face him, I know I wouldn’t have dared. He’s not the kind of man who’d let his wife walk away.

He looks almost unrecognizable, harsher, more dangerous. The sharp lines of his jaw are coated in dark stubble. His velvety black eyes, once a source of comfort, now burn into me with a predatory focus that makes it hard to breathe.

His suit jacket lies discarded on the bed, leaving him in a black button-down that clings to his broad shoulders and his powerful frame. The top three buttons of his shirt are undone, revealing his tanned chest and the hint of dark hair beneath.

The half-empty tumbler resting on the table beside him tells me he’s been here for a while. Waiting.

With a gaze that could pierce through steel and a presence that demands obedience, Damian is a force to be reckoned with.

A part of me longs for the days before we were married. Back then, everything felt so much easier. So much better.

He was always the silent type. I used to think that his silence was just part of who he was. It didn’t bother me. In fact, I told myself that after marriage, he’d open up more, that things would change, that our love would grow into something deeper. But I was wrong. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Back then, there was warmth in our connection, even in the quiet. Now, it’s all just ice. And I don’t know how to break through. Now, his silence terrifies me.

Looking back on everything, the truth is undeniable. Damian’s emotional detachment wasn’t just a result of poor communication. He just didn’t care. He never loved me, not in the way I craved, not in the way I needed him to. Coming to terms with that truth is like swallowing broken glass. The love I believed in was nothing more than a fantasy I held onto far too long.

Damian is a self-made multi-billionaire. His empire is everything to him. A workaholic to the core, he always put his business above everything, including me. There were moments I’d needed him—whether it was for support or just to feel seen—but all I got was silence and distance. I told myself it didn’t matter, that it was just the pressure of running his empire but the truth was I was always an afterthought.

So, when I ran away, I assumed Hal and his team would track me down. Damian had never made me a priority, never once took a break from his empire to care for me. But now, here he is. In Paris. The man who’d never put me before his work, who had never once made time for me, has come all this way to find me himself. The very same man who built his world around business has stepped out of it, for me.

It wasn’t until I left that he finally paid attention to me. A sharp pang of sorrow twists my heart as I think about all the times I begged him to come home early, to just be with me. The calls I made, the voicemails he never bothered with, the texts that went unanswered. But it wasn’t until I left that he finally acknowledged me.

It wasn’t always like this, though, I admit to myself reluctantly. After those trips, Damian would spend a week or two with me. How could I ever forget those days?

Those weeks were everything. In those rare moments, he became someone who couldn’t seem to get enough of me.

It was as if a switch flipped, and suddenly, his desire was undeniable, consuming. Every touch, every look, was filled with a hunger that took my breath away. For those days, he was mine. Entirely mine. We spent every second wrapped up in each other. Only stopping for meals before falling back into each other’s arms.

I mistook his voracious sexual appetite, blazing passion for affection. Based on those weeks, I convinced myself that he really loved me.

But his insatiable appetite for me had never been about love. It was a temporary distraction, a means to satisfy his own desires without ever truly connecting with me on an emotional level.

He never saw me as more than an object to fulfill his cravings. The moments when he held me weren’t filled with love, but with a need to claim, to mark his territory.

But now, with clarity seeping through the cracks of my shattered illusions, I see the truth for what it is. He never wanted me beyond my body.

I ignored all the signs that were always present. It was entirely my fault.

One of the things I also learned about him is that he doesn’t like to lose. Ever. He is a ruthless man. He has clawed his way to the top, leaving a trail of rivals and adversaries in his wake.

His empire stands as a testament to his prowess, a kingdom built on the foundation of his ruthless work ethic and unyielding drive.

If you crossed him, he wouldn’t think twice before destroying your life as well as of those you love.

That rule applies to me, too. Being his wife doesn’t mean he’ll spare me. If anything, it makes me an even bigger target. I haven’t seen anything about my disappearance in the news yet, but I know I didn’t just risk ruining his reputation; I threatenedeverything he’s built. And now, with him breaking into my suite, I know exactly what this means. I’m in deep trouble.

I swallow hard “Damian.”

He leans back in the chair, spreading his thighs. “Come here.” He pats his right thigh, stealing all the air from my lungs.

Beyond the fear, something else tightens inside of me at his command.

It’s humiliating to even think about it, but being near him does things to me. He’s always had this effect on me, this way of getting under my skin and making me crave him, even when I shouldn’t.

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