Chapter 3

“Seraphina! Don't push your luck!” Damian warned, his voice low and dangerous.

I retorted, “*I’m* pushing my luck?”

Whether it was the searing pain in my legs or the chilling realization in my heart, large tears streamed down my face.

Seeing me cry, Damian’s expression softened:

“Let’s not talk about that now. I’ll take you to the hospital.”

He started to reach for me, but I instinctively recoiled. My wound hit the table leg, and the bandage instantly turned crimson.

“Get out! I don't need you to take me! Remember this: we’re already divorced!”

The moment he abandoned me, gravely injured, to take Chloe, I stopped trusting him completely.

Damian’s fists clenched, his body trembling. Then, with a roar of suppressed fury, he slammed the door and left.

After Damian left, I drafted my resignation letter and sent it to HR.

HR was incredibly shocked, replying with a dozen messages, saying he couldn't approve it without Damian's permission.

I braced myself for a standoff with Damian.

But within a minute, my resignation was approved.

It seemed Damian no longer had any feelings for me whatsoever.

The next morning, I went to the office to pack my things.

All my colleagues were gossiping about my resignation.

I ignored them, focusing on my packing.

Suddenly, Chloe slammed a half-empty bubble tea down in front of me, her lipstick stain still on the straw:

“Seraphina darling, can you print this contract for me? I’ll buy you a bubble tea.”

Chloe looked at me with a smirk of provocation.

I stood up and immediately splashed the bubble tea onto her face:

“I’ve resigned, and I’m divorced. Stop with your roundabout attempts to flaunt that trash Damian and disgust me!”

The sticky bubble tea dripped from Chloe's hair, and she looked pathetic, her eyes welling up.

Damian rushed over, his heart aching as he meticulously wiped her face with tissues.

His gaze turned icy, sharp as a blade, when he looked at me:

“Seraphina, you’ve gone too far! Apologize to Chloe, now!”

A flicker of triumph crossed Chloe’s eyes. Then she tugged at Damian’s sleeve, shaking her head:

“It’s not Seraphina’s fault, Mr. Thorne. I just wanted to share my favorite bubble tea, but I forgot she's a sophisticated city girl and, well, *different* from me.”

Damian looked at Chloe’s tearful face, veins throbbing in his neck, and raised his voice:

“Just because you were born in the city makes you superior? Gives you the right to trample on others' kindness?”

“Drink that bubble tea off the floor!”

Hearing his words, the colleagues, who had been openly eavesdropping on the drama, all turned to stare.

My eyes reddened as I looked at Damian, backing away step by step.

He grabbed my wrist and forced me down onto the floor. The bubble tea on the ground was now a muddy mess.

“Apologize!” Damian commanded.

I bit my lip hard, shaking my head.

Damian suddenly remembered something, his eyes hardening, his voice turning chilling:

“Seraphina, why are you always defying me lately?”

“If you still refuse to apologize to Chloe... you'll need to *reflect* on your actions.”

He tightened his grip on my wrist and dragged me towards the warehouse.

I pulled with all my might to free my hand, but his grip only grew tighter.

Damian yanked me into the hot, cramped warehouse. He looked around, then pinned both my hands with one of his, while picking up a dusty rope from the corner.

My eyes reddened, and I shook my head, “Damian, you can’t.”

Before I could finish, Damian had already tied my hands, securing them with a knot that was impossible to undo. He lightly bit the back of my hand:

“Seraphina, you’ve been too spoiled lately. You can stay here and think about what you did wrong…”

“I didn’t do anything wrong…”

He placed his index finger over my lips, making a shushing gesture:

“Shh, think clearly before you speak.”

Then, with a sharp *rip*, he tore off a piece of duct tape and sealed my mouth.

I twisted, trying to run while he adjusted the tape.

But he yanked the rope, pulling me back and pushing me onto a chair.

He brutally secured me to the chair, the rope wrapped dozens of times around me.

I writhed and struggled, but I couldn't move. The wounds on my legs bled again.

Damian slammed the heavy metal door shut.

From beyond the door, his voice, muffled but cutting like an icy blade, drifted in:

“You better reflect deeply. You can come out when you realize your mistake!”