Ex-Lover Married 99 Wives, Begged Me to Revive Him

To protect the elves, I had no choice but to seek out my former lover, Garrett Jackson — now the Empire's Supreme Judge.

He was consumed by obsession.

No matter the time or place, he would seize me, pull me into his burning embrace, and whisper my name like a curse and a prayer.

A month later, just as I allowed myself to surrender once more to the warmth of his body, a nail drove deep into my collarbone.

He gripped my chin and sneered.

“Elven blood is red too?” he hissed. “But how does a few drops of yours compare to the river that flowed when my sister was sacrificed — by you?”

“If you won’t tell me where the forbidden land of the elves lies… then I’ll drag you through hell, alive, until you beg for death.”

He made me watch as he married 99 women — each more beautiful and venomous than the last — and forced me to bleed, daily, so their skin could stay flawless.

He shattered my wings, forced me to kneel beside their bed, and listen to the sickening sounds of their intimacy.

When the 99th wife gave birth, he ordered my spirit bones to be torn from my body and boiled into soup — nourishment for her and the child.

He loathed me… yet he refused to let me die.

“Tell me the truth,” he whispered again and again, holding my crumbling form in his arms. “Don’t die… not yet.”

I bore his twisted love in silence.

But he would never learn the truth.

Because I had only five days left to live.

——

A sharp object struck my forehead. Warm blood trickled down my cheek.

I wiped it away — my palm was soaked in red.

“What are you spacing out for?!” the housekeeper shrieked. “Get in there and clean the master’s room — now!”

Silently, I rinsed the blood from my skin, dragged my bruised and battered body through the hallway, and limped toward Garrett’s chamber.

The moment I pushed the door open, a thick, cloying scent overwhelmed me — sickly sweet, laced with lust.

“Clean it properly, or I’ll beat you to death!” The whip cracked across my back, sending tremors through me.

“I will,” I muttered, kneeling to scrub the floor.

Garrett reclined lazily on the sofa, his chiseled upper body bare, a towel slung low on his hips. He didn’t even look at me.

Silently, I wiped away the obscene stains — one shameful trace at a time.

Everything in the room had been replaced more than once. The carpets changed too often to count.

Garrett was addicted to pleasure, and each wife more savage than the last.

Suddenly, a pair of delicate feet stepped into view.

The 88th wife smiled sweetly as she crawled into his lap.

The rag in my hand brushed her toes by accident. I recoiled immediately — but too late.

“You filthy whore!” she shrieked. “How dare you touch me with that disgusting thing?!”

She turned to him, pouting. “My lord, please… chop off her hand?”

Without hesitation, Garrett’s foot slammed into my chest. I hit the floor hard, gasping for air.

“Useless creature,” he spat. “You can’t even clean the floor right.”

I curled into myself, trembling. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, ma’am…”

His eyes darkened, voice cold as ice. “Seems I’ve been far too lenient with you lately.”

Fisting my hair, he dragged me across the marble floor, leaving streaks of blood in our wake.

In the courtyard, he tossed a dagger to the ground.

“Let’s begin,” he said casually, adjusting his sleeves. “My wives are waiting for this month’s beauty soup.”

A circle of women gathered around me — dazzling, cruel, hungry.