Jamie POV:

The moment Elijah's eyes locked onto mine, the soft grief on his face vanished, replaced by a flash of pure, unadulterated fury. It was a physical force, a wave of animosity so intense it made me flinch.

"What are you doing here?" he snarled, his voice like the crack of a whip in the hallowed silence.

He took a step forward, his handsome face twisted into a mask of contempt. "You have no right. Get out."

I pushed myself up, my hand flat against Corine's cold headstone for support. My legs felt weak, my whole body trembled. "Elijah, I just wanted to… to see her." My voice came out as a ragged, desperate plea.

He let out a bark of laughter, a sound completely devoid of humor. "See her? You? That's the funniest thing I've heard all year." He stalked towards me, his shadow falling over me, engulfing me. "You, who ran away and left her to die, have the audacity to come here and pretend to mourn?"

He was so close now I could feel the heat radiating from his body, the scent of his cologne mixing with the damp earth. His hand shot out, and his fingers wrapped around my throat.

The pressure was immense. Black spots danced in my vision.

"You should have been the one in this grave," he hissed, his face inches from mine, his eyes burning with a pain so deep it was terrifying. "She pushed you out. She saved you. And you just ran."

I couldn't breathe. The world was narrowing to a dark tunnel. But I didn't struggle. I didn't fight back. A strange, serene thought drifted through the panic: Let it end. Please, just let it end here. It' s a fitting punishment. A way to atone.

Just as my consciousness began to fray, he abruptly let go.

I collapsed to the ground, gasping, coughing, sucking in desperate gulps of air that felt like fire in my lungs. Through my watery eyes, I saw it. A flicker of something in his own. It wasn't pity. It was a complex, agonized torment, a war raging within him before it was brutally suppressed.

For a wild, foolish second, I wondered if there was still a part of him that couldn't bear to kill me with his own hands.

"Elijah, darling, what are you doing?" Kiley's petulant voice shattered the moment. She trotted over, wrapping her arm possessively through his. "Don't waste your time on… her. Corine is waiting for us."

Elijah's eyes went shuttered and cold. The fleeting vulnerability was gone, locked away. He turned from me as if I were a piece of trash on the ground, taking the flowers from Kiley and gently placing them before Corine's headstone.

He didn't look at me again. "Let's go," he said to Kiley, his voice low.

"But my feet hurt," she whined, leaning against him. "These heels are killing me."

Without a word, Elijah crouched down, his broad back facing her. She giggled and climbed on. He rose effortlessly, piggybacking her as he walked away from his sister's grave, away from me.

I watched them go, her arms wrapped around his neck, her head resting on his shoulder. The image was a knife, twisting in my heart, scraping against old wounds until they bled anew.

I remembered a time, years ago, when we had gone hiking. I'd sprained my ankle, and he had carried me down the mountain just like that. He had complained the whole way, teasing me about how much I ate, but his arms had been a fortress, his back a safe harbor.

" You' re going to get so fat, Jamie-bean," I remembered him grunting with a grin. " I' m going to have to start working out twice a day just to carry you."

Corine had trotted alongside us, laughing. " Don' t listen to him, Jamie! He loves it. My brother, the big strong hero!"

Now, all of it-the love, the laughter, the tenderness-was gone. It all belonged to someone else. It had all been a lie.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, forcing myself to my feet, and silently followed them.

When we reached the car, Elijah glanced at me over his shoulder, his eyes filled with disgust. "Get in."

I froze.

"Don't you dare defile my sister's resting place with your presence any longer," he spat, each word a venom-tipped dart. "I'm taking you back to that cage you call a home."

My jaw tightened, but I said nothing. I slid into the back seat, a prisoner being escorted back to her cell. I had a feeling I would never be allowed to visit Corine again. This was my goodbye.

The drive down the winding mountain road was excruciating. Kiley, now in the passenger seat, was all over Elijah, her hands roaming his chest, her lips pressing against his jaw.

"Baby," she purred, her voice loud enough for me to hear clearly. "It's been so long since we've been in the car together."

Elijah' s jaw muscle jumped. "Kiley, stop. I'm driving." His voice was a low growl, strained with a desire he was trying to suppress.

She giggled, undeterred, and leaned in to whisper something in his ear. Her hand slid lower, disappearing from my sight.

His knuckles went white on the steering wheel. I saw his throat work as he swallowed hard.

His eyes flickered to the rearview mirror, meeting mine. There was no warmth, no apology. Only a cold, cruel challenge.

Then he slammed on the brakes and wrenched the steering wheel, pulling the car over onto the narrow shoulder of the road.

He turned, his gaze locking onto me. His eyes were dark, his voice devoid of any emotion.

"Get out."

My blood ran cold. "What?"

"I said, get out," he repeated, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Now."

My fingers clenched the fabric of my coat. I stared at him, my heart hammering against my ribs.

"Jamie," he said, his voice laced with venomous impatience. "Don't make me say it a third time."

Trembling, I pushed the door open and stumbled out onto the gravel shoulder. The car door slammed shut behind me with a sound of finality.

And then, I heard it. The car began to rock. The windows were tinted, but I didn't need to see. Her soft moans, his guttural groans, the rhythmic creak of the suspension-it was all a symphony of my own personal hell, performed for an audience of one.

Jamie POV:

The sounds from the car were a physical assault. They weren't just sounds; they were memories, stolen and perverted, now used as instruments of torture against me.

I turned away, my body shaking, and stumbled towards the guardrail, my knuckles white as I gripped the cold metal. Tears streamed down my face, hot and silent, whipped away by the biting wind on the high mountain pass.

I remembered our first time. His reverence, his gentle hands, the way he' d whispered my name like a prayer. He had treated my body like a sacred temple. Now, he was defiling that memory, turning our sacred moments into a cheap, sordid spectacle with my carbon copy, right in front of me.

I wanted to run, to flee, but there was nowhere to go. I was trapped on this desolate stretch of highway, a piece of trash discarded on the side of the road. I just stood there, a statue of misery, as the sky bled from orange to purple.

An eternity later, the rocking stopped. The passenger window slid down, and Kiley' s face appeared. She looked flushed, her lipstick smeared, her eyes glittering with a smug, cat-like satisfaction.

"You can get back in now," she said, her tone the one a queen might use to address a beggar.

I moved like a robot, my limbs numb, my mind a hollow cavern of pain. I opened the back door and slid in. The air inside was thick, cloying with the smell of sex and Kiley's triumphant perfume. It made me want to gag.

"Elijah," Kiley whined, stretching languidly. "What if I get pregnant? You were so rough."

My blood turned to ice.

Elijah chuckled, a low, pleased sound. "Then we'll have it," he said, his voice laced with a deep, possessive satisfaction. "I'd love to have a child with you, Kiley."

The world went silent. All I could hear was a roaring in my ears.

A child.

A child.

"I want a little girl," he had whispered to me one night, his hand resting on my flat stomach. "One with your eyes and my stubbornness. We' ll spoil her rotten."

"And if it' s a boy?" I' d asked, tracing the line of his jaw.

"Then he' ll be a genius, just like his father," he' d laughed, pulling me closer. "And handsome, just like his mother."

That beautiful, hopeful future we had painted together now felt like a story from another lifetime. The gentle caress of his words had become a blunt instrument, and he was using it to bludgeon my heart to a pulp.

"Then you'll have to try harder," Kiley purred, her voice dropping to a seductive whisper.

The rest of the drive home was a blur of torment. Kiley and Elijah were relentless, their whispers and laughter a constant, grinding assault on my sanity. When we finally reached the mansion, they disappeared into his bedroom, and the sounds began again, louder this time, echoing through the cavernous, empty house.

I locked myself in my own room, on the opposite side of the sprawling estate. But it didn't matter. The sounds seemed to seep through the walls, a poison in the air.

I curled up on the cold floor of my bathroom, my arms wrapped around my stomach as a wave of nausea and pain crashed over me. I barely made it to the toilet before I was retching, coughing up the bitter bile and the mouthful of blood that followed.

The door to my room was a barrier between two worlds. Outside, a world of carnal celebration, of hedonistic joy, of the potential for new life. Inside, a world of decay, of silent suffering, of the certainty of death.

It went on for days. The house became a stage for their debauchery. I became a prisoner in my own room, my only companions the relentless pain in my gut and the sounds of their ecstasy.

One afternoon, the house fell silent. The quiet was so abrupt, so unusual, it was unnerving. I crept out of my room, my body weak and trembling.

In the vast, open-plan kitchen, Kiley was attempting to cook. Flour dusted her nose, and the stovetop was a disaster zone. Elijah was sitting at the massive marble island, reading a newspaper, a rare portrait of domestic tranquility.

"Oh, look who's here," Kiley said, spotting me. Her tone was condescending. "Want some lunch? Though I doubt you'll like it."

"No, thank you," I said softly, turning to leave.

"Jamie." Elijah' s voice stopped me. It was low and commanding. He folded his newspaper. "Come here."

I had no choice. I walked over, my feet silent on the cold stone floor.

On the table was a plate of what looked like scrambled eggs, but they were burnt on the edges and runny in the middle. A piece of toast was blackened beyond recognition.

Elijah picked up his fork and took a bite of the eggs without a change in expression.

"Is it good, darling?" Kiley asked, her voice hopeful and eager for praise.

He put down his fork and reached out, stroking her cheek with a tenderness that made my own cheeks burn with shame. "It's the best I've ever had," he said softly.

My heart constricted so violently it felt like it had stopped.

I remembered the first meal I ever cooked for him. I had been so nervous, my hands shaking as I served him a simple pasta dish. He had taken one bite, his eyes closing in exaggerated bliss. "Jamie," he' d said, his voice full of wonder. "Anything you make is the most delicious thing in the world."

Now, that same look of adoration, that same gentle praise, was being given for a plate of burnt garbage. It wasn't about the food. It was about twisting the knife.

"Why aren't you eating?" Kiley asked, her eyes sharp and malicious. "Don't you like my cooking?"

I knew it was a test. I forced myself to pick up a fork and take a tiny bite. The taste of burnt eggs and salt was acrid in my mouth, and a wave of nausea rose in my throat. I swallowed hard, the effort making my eyes water.

"I… I have to use the restroom," I mumbled, pushing my chair back.

I ran, but I didn't make it. I barely reached the sink in the powder room before I was coughing violently, spitting a stream of bright red blood onto the pristine white porcelain.

Frantically, I turned on the tap, trying to wash the evidence away. But it was too late.

"What is wrong with you?" Kiley shrieked from the doorway. "You can't stand to see him praise me, can you? You have to ruin everything!" Tears welled in her eyes, a performance of practiced victimhood.

Elijah was there a second later. He saw Kiley's tears, he saw my frantic attempts to clean the sink, and his face hardened into a familiar mask of rage.

He strode over, wrapping a protective arm around Kiley's shaking shoulders, comforting her with low murmurs.

Then his icy gaze fell upon me.

"You're so desperate for attention, you'd even pretend to be sick," he said, his voice dripping with disgust. He looked at me as if I were the most pathetic creature on earth. "Since you're so determined to spoil everyone's appetite, you won't be eating at all."

He turned to the two hulking bodyguards who had appeared silently in the doorway.

"Break her jaw."

Jamie POV:

My eyes widened in disbelief. The world seemed to slow down, the sound fading to a dull buzz. "Elijah, no…" The words were a choked whisper.

He didn't even look at me. He just gave a curt nod to the bodyguards.

One of the men stepped forward. His face was impassive as he grabbed my chin, his grip like a vise. I tried to pull away, but I was as helpless as a doll in his massive hand.

He twisted.

A sickening crack echoed in the small bathroom, followed by a wave of white-hot, blinding pain that exploded behind my eyes. I felt my jawbone shift, dislocate. A scream tore at my throat but was trapped, unable to escape. My vision went black for a second, and I sagged against the wall, the agony so intense it was surreal.

Through the haze of pain, I saw Elijah turn away, his arm still wrapped around Kiley, leading her out of the room as if nothing had happened. He didn't spare me a single glance.

The next two days were a living hell. My jaw was a source of constant, throbbing agony. I couldn't speak. I couldn't eat. I could only sip water through a straw, each swallow sending a fresh spike of pain through my head.

And Elijah made sure I was present for every moment of his idyllic life with Kiley. I was forced to sit in the living room while they watched movies, her head on his lap. I was forced to sit at the dining table while he fed her, piece by piece, from his own plate.

The physical pain was nothing compared to the humiliation. I was a ghost at their feast, a silent monument to his cruelty.

Then, just as suddenly as it had been inflicted, the punishment ended. It was Kiley's birthday, and Elijah had plans. He had a doctor come to the house to reset my jaw. The procedure was excruciating, but the relief of being able to close my mouth properly was immense.

"You will plan Kiley's birthday party," Elijah told me that morning, his voice cold and clipped. "It will be perfect. If she is anything less than ecstatic, I will make you wish your jaw was still broken."

I nodded, a hollowed-out shell of a person. I spent the day directing caterers and florists, my movements robotic. The garden was transformed into a fairy-tale wonderland, twinkling with lights and filled with the scent of a thousand roses.

The party was a lavish affair. Elijah was the perfect host, the devoted lover. He gifted Kiley a diamond bracelet that cost more than my childhood home. He held her as they cut a towering cake. He led her in a slow dance under the stars, his eyes never leaving her face.

I stood in the shadows, a forgotten relic. The pain in my heart had become a dull, constant ache. It was too tired to break anymore. I watched them, and I remembered my own twenty-first birthday. Elijah and Corine had thrown me a surprise party in this very garden. He had held me just like that, whispering promises of forever in my ear.

"Forever," I murmured to the darkness. What a fragile, foolish word.

"Enjoying the show?"

I turned. Kiley stood there, a glass of champagne in her hand, a malicious smile playing on her lips. "I don't see a gift," she said, her eyes scanning me up and down. "Surely you brought something for the birthday girl."

I dropped my gaze. "I didn't prepare anything."

Her eyes narrowed, then lit up as they fixed on the thin silver chain around my neck. It was a simple locket, the last thing my mother gave me before she died. "I like that," she declared, pointing a perfectly manicured finger. "I'll take that as my present."

My hand flew to my neck, clutching the locket protectively. "No," I said, my voice shaking. I took a step back. "You can't. This was my mother's."

Kiley's face fell. Her lower lip trembled, and her eyes instantly filled with tears. "But… I just thought it was so pretty."

"What's going on?" Elijah's voice cut in. He was by her side in an instant, his brow furrowed with concern as he saw her feigned distress.

"It's nothing," Kiley sniffled, leaning into him. "I just told Jamie I liked her necklace, and she got so angry. I didn't mean to upset her."

Elijah's gaze turned to me, and it was glacial. "Give it to her."

I stared at him, horrified. "Elijah, you can't," I choked out. "You know what this is. It was my mother's." He had been with me when she gave it to me. He had held me as I cried after her funeral. He knew.

My silent plea hung in the air between us. Please, not this. Don't take this from me, too.

He looked away, his jaw tight. "Get it for her," he ordered the bodyguards.

Panic clawed at me. "No! Elijah, please!" I struggled as two men grabbed my arms, their grips like iron. One of them reached for my neck. I thrashed wildly, screaming his name, begging him.

The chain snapped.

The guard handed the locket to Elijah. He didn't look at it. He simply turned and, with a tender smile, fastened it around Kiley's neck.

"It looks beautiful on you," he murmured, kissing her forehead. He took her hand and led her back to the center of the party, leaving me on my knees, my world shattered.

My mother. The last piece of her was gone.

I stumbled away from the party, seeking refuge in the darkest corner of the garden. A group of Kiley's friends, drunk and emboldened, followed me.

"Look at the sad little wretch," one of them sneered.

"Think you can compete with Kiley? You're just a washed-up hag."

They surrounded me, their taunts turning to shoves, then to kicks. I curled into a ball on the ground, not even trying to fight back. What was the point?

A sharp kick to my stomach sent a jolt of agony through me, and I gasped, a hot, metallic taste filling my mouth. I coughed, and a spray of dark blood spattered on the pristine grass.

The girls shrieked and jumped back, their drunken cruelty dissolving into fear.

"What the hell is going on here?"

Elijah's voice was a low growl. He stood at the edge of the circle of light, his face a thunderous mask.