Chapter 4

Elisabeth Ward POV:

Chase stood in the doorway, his eyes dark with fury, his gaze fixed on Joy's reddening cheek. He hadn't seen the true monster, only the victim she pretended to be. His face contorted with rage as he strode into the room, shoving me aside with a force that sent me sprawling against the wall. A sharp gasp of pain escaped my lips.

Joy, ever the actress, dissolved into tears, clinging to Chase's arm. "She hit me, Chase! She said terrible things!" she wailed, her voice thick with feigned fear. "She's so cruel! She tried to hurt our baby, she's trying to hurt me now!"

Chase' s eyes blazed, his concern for Joy overriding any shred of decency. He glared at me, his face a mask of cold fury. "What the hell is wrong with you, Elisabeth? Have you lost your mind?"

He turned to his bodyguards, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "Teach her a lesson. Make sure she understands the consequences of hurting Joy."

Joy, with a sickening display of false compassion, whimpered, "No, Chase, please. She's injured. Don't." But her eyes, as they flickered to me, held a malicious gleam.

He stroked her hair, his gaze never leaving mine. "She needs to learn, Joy. She needs to understand that you are under my protection."

The bodyguards advanced, their hulking forms casting long shadows over me. I stared at Chase, my mind reeling. This wasn't the man who had promised to protect me, who had sworn to be my shield. This was a stranger, a monster wrapped in a familiar skin.

"You promised!" I screamed, my voice raw and ragged. "You promised you'd protect me! You promised you'd always be my anchor!"

He flinched, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by a stone-cold resolve. He pulled Joy closer, his voice strained. "I did love you, Elisabeth. Once. But that's over. Joy is my love now. And anyone who hurts her, hurts me. You will pay for this."

He turned, leading Joy out of the room, his back a solid wall of indifference. The door clicked shut, severing the last fragile thread of hope.

The first blow landed, a searing slap across my face. My body, already battered and weak, crumpled. But I didn't resist. I didn't cry. There was nothing left inside me to break. I was a broken doll, a shattered vessel.

One hundred slaps. Each one a chisel, chipping away at the remnants of my love, my hope, my belief in anything good. One hundred times, the sting, the burn, the humiliation. And with each one, a piece of me crumbled into dust. My deep affection for him, my foolish fantasies, my very faith in our shared history-all shattered.

I collapsed to the floor, a guttural cough tearing through me, and a trickle of blood stained the white tiles. A choked, bitter laugh escaped my lips, a sound devoid of mirth.

"May every person who betrays a true heart suffer a thousand times worse," I whispered, the words a chilling curse that hung in the sterile air.