"So what if you’re on your period? Last year, Kade and the guys even threw a game night for this, and not a single soul ended up in the hospital."

Bronson’s grip on Estelle tightened, his fingers digging into her arm with ruthless force.

Estelle gasped, her voice trembling as pain seeped into her words. Through gritted teeth, she hissed, "This is marital rape!"

Bronson let out a cold, mocking chuckle, his tone dripping with disdain. "And then what? What are you going to do about it, Lawyer Maddox?"

His smirk grew darker. "Go ahead, sue me. But when you do, I’ll bring your mother’s ashes into the courtroom. From then on, if you want to pay your respects to her, you’ll have to visit me in prison first."

The fire in Estelle’s eyes dimmed, her fury fading into helplessness. She collapsed onto the bed, her body limp and lifeless, like a marionette whose strings had been cut.

"Bronson, why don’t you just die?" she whispered, her voice hollow, the words a fragile echo of her shattered spirit.

Bronson, the master of cruelty, stroked her cheek with unsettling tenderness as though her words had been mere whispers in the wind. "If I die, Estelle, you’ll come with me. Don’t think you can escape. Even if you run to the ends of the earth, I’ll find you. And when I do, I’ll break your legs and keep you locked up at home. I’ll take care of you for the rest of your life, whether you like it or not."

By the time Estelle woke up, Bronson was already gone, likely at an urgent meeting. These fleeting moments of solitude were her only reprieve.

The torment of the previous night had left her feverish. She fumbled for fever-reducing pills, swallowing them with cold water that burned her throat like fire. It was swollen, painfully so.

This routine had become mundane, almost second nature. Bronson seemed to revel in her silent endurance.

The first time Estelle had endured such humiliation was at a dinner party. Her mother was still alive then, and Bronson forced her to skip work to attend.

While he could drag her to the gathering, he couldn’t make her feign politeness. Her disdain had been etched on her face, growing darker with every passing minute.

Normally, the icy tension between them was enough to keep others at a distance. But by the time she arrived, most of the guests were already drunk. One of Bronson’s friends, unsteady on his feet with a wine glass swaying in his hand, stumbled toward her.

“Sister-in-law, Bronson’s told us so much about you. Finally, we meet! Come, let me toast to you!”

Estelle ignored him, her focus entirely on her meal, radiating an air of aloof detachment. She was like a mountain flower, untouchable and out of place, her indifference a stinging slap to Bronson’s pride.

The man was caught off guard and fidgeted awkwardly, unsure of how to recover.

On Bronson’s other side, Kade, ever the peacemaker, noticed the tension and stepped in quickly.

“Have you had so much to drink that you’ve forgotten yourself? Do you even realize how much Bronson protects her? He’s finally brought her out, and you have the nerve to push her to drink?”

Kade gave the man a subtle nudge with his foot, trying to steer him away. But before he could take more than a step, Bronson’s cold voice cut through the air.

"Estelle, didn’t you hear my friend speaking to you?"

A chill settled over the room. Kade’s stomach tightened, sweat forming at his temples. Bronson was never one to tolerate defiance, and Estelle’s stony demeanor had clearly worn thin on his patience.

“Are you deaf?” Bronson growled, snatching the chopsticks from her hand.

Though his voice was low, it carried a weight that silenced the rowdy room in an instant.

Estelle drew in a steadying breath, rose from her seat with her wine glass in hand, and approached the trembling man. Without hesitation, she clinked her glass against his and drained its contents in a single swallow.

Then, as if delivering a verdict, she hurled the empty glass at Bronson’s feet. Her voice, calm but cutting, sliced through the thick silence.

“Is there anything else? If not, I’ll take my leave.”

Bronson’s lips curled into a smirk, his gaze sharp and unyielding. He didn’t bother to rise. Instead, he reached out, grabbing her arm with an iron grip and yanking her down to the floor at his feet.

The movement was so sudden that Estelle couldn’t brace herself. She landed on her knees amidst the shattered glass.

Kade cringed at the sight, an involuntary hiss escaping his lips, but Estelle didn’t so much as wince.

“Bronson, she’s a woman. Don’t…”

"Wait outside."

Kade’s attempt to excuse the growing noise died on his lips as Bronson’s commanding tone cut through the air.

The room emptied in moments, leaving nothing but silence in its wake.

“Is it really so unbearable to have a meal with me?” Bronson asked, his voice low and edged with frustration as he pinned Estelle against the glass, his grip unyielding.

“If you’re looking for a drinking partner, you’ve come to the wrong place,” Estelle shot back, her chin lifted defiantly, her composure unshaken despite the intensity of his gaze.

“I don’t need a drinking partner,” Bronson murmured, his tone laced with a dark undercurrent. “But I’m upset, and I need you to make me feel better.”

Before she could reply, he pulled her down onto his lap, his hold unrelenting.

Estelle struggled, her movements fierce, but Bronson released her without warning, leaning back with a look of amusement as she scrambled to her feet, poised to flee.

Calmly, he pulled out his phone and dialed.

“Director Parish,” he said, his voice taking on a chilling calmness, “the patient I asked you to look after, stop their medication for now.”

The words hung in the air, their weight undeniable.

Bronson ended the call, his smirk deepening as he leaned back leisurely, raising an eyebrow at Estelle, who froze in place.

Estelle’s face drained of color, her eyes widening with disbelief as they locked onto him.

“You never spent a single cent on my mother’s medication. What right do you have to stop it?” her voice trembled with restrained fury.

“Because my last name is Bradwell,” he replied with a smirk that carried an edge of menace. “And if I so choose, not a single doctor in this hospital or this city would dare treat your mother. Evergreen Valley would become a dead end for her care. Of course, you could take her elsewhere, but from what I hear, moving her in her condition is nearly impossible.”

His words cut deeper than any blade, but he wasn’t finished. “Estelle, I had hoped for something mutual. But if you insist on resisting, I can just take what I want.”

Her glare bore into him like a dagger, but each step she took toward him felt like walking through quicksand.

She closed her eyes, her knees hitting the floor with a weight that crushed her spirit.

When it was over, Estelle coughed violently, the metallic taste of blood stinging her throat. The fire in her chest burned, but her heart had gone cold.

She couldn’t resist him, couldn’t escape, couldn’t even die. She was no more than a hollow vessel, shackled to Bronson’s whims.

Estelle left for work despite her fever.

She had been caught in the web of a harassment case for weeks. The defendant was powerful and untouchable, a man whose wealth and influence allowed him to wipe away every trace of his wrongdoings. The case couldn’t be filed, leaving Estelle to navigate through the murky waters of litigation. The first trial had been a crushing defeat, and everyone had lost hope. But Estelle, undeterred, had taken on the case for free.

The victim, a young girl still in school and abandoned by her parents, had come to see Estelle as a beacon of hope, a savior in her dark world. Today, Estelle could have taken a break, but her determination to finish the case quickly had overridden her fatigue. The girl had exams looming, and Estelle didn’t want to drag the ordeal out any longer than necessary.

After her mother’s death, the only thing that kept Estelle alive was the pursuit of justice for her clients. It was her escape from the suffocating shadow Bronson cast over her life.

She had thought about ending it all, but Bronson had dug up her mother’s grave, the act cruel and heartless. He’d taken her mother’s ashes as a twisted reminder of his control.

“Bronson! Are you even human?!” Estelle had screamed, her voice breaking under the weight of her grief. But he had held her tight, his grip unyielding, preventing her from collapsing into herself.

“Marry me, or face the consequences,” Bronson had demanded, his words cold and final.

At first, Estelle had refused, her resolve fierce. She had gathered enough evidence to bring him down, to sue him for everything he had done.

The case had gone smoother than she had expected, with Bronson reluctantly returning the ashes after the matter was settled. But when Estelle checked, she realized that only half of her mother’s remains had been returned.

For over twenty years, Estelle had lived her life believing in black and white, trusting that the law would punish the guilty. That was until she met Bronson.

Powerless against him, Estelle had no choice but to submit and marry him.

Just as she sat down at her desk, lost in thought, the receptionist’s voice interrupted her. Someone was looking for her.

Thinking it was a client, Estelle stepped out only to find Soleil Ruslan waiting for her. Soleil, the woman who had left her lingerie at Bronson’s house just the day before, Bronson’s childhood friend, the one who clearly had no intention of staying in the background.

Soleil’s gaze was sharp, her eyes sweeping over Estelle with an air of distaste as if she were studying something unworthy of her attention. Without saying a word, Soleil settled into the guest area, the silence between them heavy and thick with unspoken words.

"Bronson said you washed the lingerie I left behind yesterday?"

Estelle kept her eyes fixed on the case files, flipping through them with deliberate calm as if Soleil’s words were nothing more than a passing breeze.

Soleil slammed her cup onto the table, her anger spilling over as she hissed, "Estelle, how long are you going to keep clinging to Bronson?!"

Estelle’s response was cool, distant. "You’ll have to ask him about that."

The word divorce had once escaped Estelle’s lips, and at the very moment it did, Bronson had driven her to the seaside in the dead of night. He stood there, his coat whipping in the cold breeze.

“Estelle, if you don’t want to end up at your mother’s grave for a second time, go ahead and say it. Say you want a divorce.”

Estelle’s eyes lifted from the papers, her voice sharp as a blade. "If you could get Bronson to divorce me, you wouldn't be here. You and he are childhood friends, well-matched, but you couldn’t handle him. How do you expect me to?"

That struck a nerve with Soleil. At first, she thought Bronson was just playing with Estelle, but after returning from six months abroad, she found that Estelle and Bronson had already made it official.

Soleil knew Bronson. If he didn’t care deeply for someone, they would never make it onto his household registration.

If she could have moved him, she wouldn’t have been here now, testing Estelle’s devotion like a fool.

"I never wanted to be the young madam of the Bradwell family," Estelle stood, her voice steady but biting. "If you want that position, go ahead and find your way in. But don’t expect me to make it easier for you."

She paused, then added, almost casually, "And your lingerie? It wasn’t washed. It’s in the trash now."

With that, Estelle turned on her heel and left, leaving Soleil seething behind her, her teeth grinding in frustration.

Just as Estelle reached the door, Soleil’s phone rang—an incoming call from the private investigator she had hired to dig into Estelle’s life.

"Miss Ruslan, we have news," the investigator’s voice crackled through the line. "Estelle secretly had an abortion at the OB-GYN yesterday."

Soleil’s eyes gleamed with a spark of triumph. She knew that bloodline was sacred to Bronson’s grandfather, and this could be the key.

"What should we do next?" the investigator asked, his voice uncertain.

Soleil’s lips curved into a sly smile. "Not yet. Estelle threw away my things, so let’s make her regret it first."

She didn’t quite understand why Estelle had married Bronson. Still, Soleil was certain of one thing: Estelle wouldn’t agree to a divorce until she had been pushed to the breaking point.

Later that day, while Estelle was out picking up takeout, fate intervened. She found herself caught in a minor car accident.

Her left leg snapped, and though the driver was kind enough to take her to the hospital, the pain was unbearable.

As the doctor set the bone without anesthesia, Estelle’s face drained of color, cold sweat beading on her forehead.

Finally, after being discharged with a cast on her leg, Estelle’s phone buzzed. It was Bronson.

"You're not at the office?" he asked, his voice cool and controlled. He had a way of tracking her movements with uncanny precision.

"I had an accident, just heading back," Estelle replied, carefully weighing her words.

She knew the accident wasn’t a coincidence, but she had no intention of telling Bronson the truth. The Bradwell and Ruslan families were in the middle of a crucial deal, and if she caused any disruption, she knew the Bradwells would never forgive her.

She had reached a point where the only person she wanted to deal with was Bronson.

"Don’t go back. Come to the hotel and find me," Bronson’s voice came through, dripping with amusement. Estelle’s brow twitched in response.

"I still have a case to handle..."

"Why don’t you come and try?" Bronson replied before ending the call.

With no other choice, Estelle hailed a taxi, heading straight to him.

Today marked the anniversary of their wedding. Bronson had spared no expense, hosting a grand banquet. Having never courted a woman before, he wasn’t sure how to make her smile. After consulting Kade, he decided to surprise her with something special.