Chapter 10

I wore clothes borrowed from a maid, kneeling on the cold marble floor, my knees throbbing with pain.

When family traditions were upheld, every member of the Thorne family was expected to witness the proceedings.

There were people I knew, people I didn't, and many enemies who had always resented me, now eagerly gathered to witness my downfall.

"I knew it. Damian never cared for that woman, no matter that she bore him two children. A self-degrading harlot!"

"She's a pitiable soul, too. Ah, a mother subjected to family law means those two children are out of the running for inheritance."

"Thirty lashes! Will that woman even survive?"

The surrounding voices were fragmented and annoying.

Naked, undisguised malice fell squarely on my shoulders, on my back.

I remembered a time, long ago, watching a similar proceeding in the Thorne family, clutching Damian's sleeve, terrified.

I asked if one day I, too, would kneel there and be beaten.

He smiled, stroking my head.

"Silly girl, you belong to me. Who would dare touch you?

"I'll protect you. Don't be afraid."

And now, the man who promised to protect me was wiping dust from a dust-covered leather whip with a handkerchief.

He was going to carry out the punishment himself.

I trembled and closed my eyes.

The crisp sound of leather shoes on the ground.

The whip tapped my shoulder.

Damian didn't look at me. Instead, his gaze was fixed on the grand portrait of his stern-faced grandfather above the fireplace, his voice melodious.

"You can still regret it now, it's not too late."

I smiled faintly.

"Master, I have no way back."

"What do you mean, no way?"

He bent down, closer to me, wiping a tear from my eye, and whispered:

"With me, you could practically bring down the sky, and no one would dare question you.

"Come back. I'll marry you. You'll be Mrs. Thorne. Everyone who's cursing and mocking you now will cower at your feet, desperate to please you.

"Think it over carefully, don't be stubborn, Seraphina."

Damian, with his immense pride, always used to being worshipped, was practically showing weakness by saying such things to me.

His dark eyes watched me unblinking.

A clear meaning shone in them:

He was waiting for me to turn back.

If I did, a grand future, a life of luxury, awaited.

But I looked up, meeting his eyes, my fingertips trembling with an odd, almost exhilarating thrill.

I heard myself say:

"No, Master.

"I've fallen in love with him. I won't marry anyone else."

The dull sound of the whip lashing my back.

Damian struck five times.

An unprecedented chill and ruthlessness permeated him, and Mr. Finch didn't even know how to intervene.

I knelt on the ground in a sorry state, my back streaming with blood.

Crimson drops dripped one by one, and tears, from the pain, uncontrollably welled up.

Damian's voice was cold.

"I'll give you one last chance. Do you want to come back?"

I shook my head.

Damian scoffed coldly.

"Stubborn."

He raised his hand again, bringing it down hard.

The whip's tail cut through the air with a chilling *whoosh*.

But it didn't land on me.

He dropped the whip.

His eyes were shadowed, and a terrifying aura enveloped him, like a vengeful demon from the darkest depths.

"You may go."

He said.

"From this moment on, you and the Thorne family are no longer connected."