All Chapters of The Duke who walked out of Hell: Chapter 1
- Chapter 10
10 chapters
Chapter One
It was Damian’s third wedding anniversary. He didn’t want to go to work; all he wanted was to be with Vanessa. But he had no choice. Today was payday, and he finally planned to buy her the bag she had been dreaming about. He had imagined this moment countless times, rehearsing every word he would say when he surprised her. The thought of seeing her smile carried him through even the hardest days. His stomach fluttered with anticipation, and a small warmth spread through his chest just thinking of her. Vanessa was still asleep when he left. He stood quietly beside the bed, watching her chest rise and fall with peaceful breaths. Part of him wanted to wake her just to whisper, Happy anniversary, but he didn’t want to disturb her rest. They were expecting a baby in just a few months. The least he could do was make her happy. He had planned an anniversary outing later on -all to see her smile, to bring some joy to her, and to the little life growing inside her.He leaned down, press
Chapter Two
“I am saying I don’t want to be with you anymore. I want a divorce. Are you hard of hearing?” Vanessa’s voice was cold, precise, like ice sliding across glass. Damian froze, the words hanging in the air like a jagged blade. “What do you mean… you want a divorce?” His voice trembled, disbelief wrapping every syllable. His chest felt as if someone had tied a steel band around it, tightening with each heartbeat. Vanessa turned slowly toward him, her gaze cold, unyielding, eyes glinting with a sharp edge. Her lips pressed into a thin, unforgiving line. “Exactly what you heard,” she said, voice low, icy. His stomach dropped, nausea rising. “Is… is this because I hit Mr. Martins?” His throat constricted as he tried to make sense of the chaos. His mind scrambled, replaying every moment, searching for the mistake he’d missed. “You can’t possibly want to end our marriage of three years over a stranger,” he said, disbelief and hurt mingling, each word trembling on his tongue. “Well, that s
Chapter Three
It had been a year since Damian was locked away like an animal. Life in prison was brutal—merciless, unrelenting. Every day was a battle, every night a reminder of the mistakes that had destroyed his life. The walls were cold, the air heavy with dust and despair, and the echoes of shouting guards and clanging doors made it feel like the world outside had disappeared completely. He lay on his cot most nights, staring at the ceiling, thinking about how everything had gone wrong. How could the same woman he had loved with every ounce of his being betray him so completely? How could the woman he had married—who carried his dreams, his hopes, and now their unborn child—turn her back on him in such a final, cutting way? Vanessa. Her name still burned on his tongue. Even now, thinking of her made his chest tighten, made his stomach twist into knots. He understood that their marriage had never started the right way. Her father, Uncle Simeon, had pleaded with him to marry her after Damia
Chapter Four
“I told you to work, didn’t I? Why are you still lazing about? Get on now!” the warder barked, striking Damian. “Damian turned back and noticed the stranger he was talking to had left. A jolt of panic shot through him, his chest tightening as fear clawed at his thoughts. His heart pounded, and for a moment, his legs felt like lead. “The guy was here… just now. Was he imagining it?” Damian muttered to himself, a shiver running down his spine. His pulse quickened, and a flicker of doubt gnawed at him. "He must have left when he saw the warder coming." He thought to himself, that was the only explanation for what had just happened. The warder stroke him again without hesitation and pain shot through his back, but he bent lower, forcing himself to continue tilling the ground. His hands ached, dirt pressed into his palms, but his mind refused to stay with the work. It was elsewhere—on the stranger, on the plan, on what might happen tonight. Who was that guy? Damian thought, a shiv
Chapter Five
Damian arrived at the meeting point just as dusk was bleeding into night. The shadows stretched long across the cracked pavement, and the chill in the air gnawed at his skin, though he barely noticed it. His eyes darted to every corner, every alley, searching for a sign, a silhouette, anything. But there was nothing. Not a single soul. He waited, muscles tensed, tapping his foot on the ground out of impatience and unease. Minutes stretched like hours. He kept pacing, back and forth, his mind racing with possibilities. Was this a trick? Was someone watching him from the shadows? A trap? The stranger had promised help, and now… now it felt like he had been abandoned. Damian’s chest tightened. He stopped and looked toward the looming cellblocks in the distance. The lights flickered in the windows as inmates disappeared into the night, retreating behind locked doors. By now, everyone would have gone to bed. His fists clenched at his sides, nails biting into his palms. He had been so
Chapter Six
“Happy married life, Vanessa,” Damian said, and his voice trembled with restrained fury. Then the restraint snapped. “I hope you rot in hell.” The words escaped before he could stop them. They sounded harsher than he had intended, sharp and bitter, and filled with a venom that startled even him. The moment they left his mouth, he realized there was no way to take them back. Something inside his chest felt as if it had split open. Rage, heartbreak, humiliation, disbelief, and helplessness collided all at once and crashed through him in violent waves. His entire body began to shake, not from weakness, but from the overwhelming force of emotions he could no longer contain. For a brief second, he searched Vanessa’s face for regret, guilt, or even the smallest trace of the woman he once loved. However, whatever he hoped to find was not there, and that absence hurt more than any insult could have. The pain became unbearable. He slammed his fist against the table. The loud crac
Chapter Seven
Days had gone by since Vanessa’s visit. Damian hadn’t expected this. He hadn’t imagined that after so long without seeing her, the mere memory—or even the thought of her—could still cut this deep. The pain sat heavily in his chest, quiet yet relentless, refusing to ease. It gnawed at him with a slow, merciless persistence, and no amount of time seemed to dull it. For days, Damian remained in his cell, heartbroken and withdrawn. He barely moved, barely spoke, and even the simplest necessities had lost their meaning. Food felt tasteless; water was lukewarm and hollow. Time had become a blurred monotony, stretching endlessly like a dull ache he could not shake. One evening, Jayden returned from the dining hall and approached him cautiously. Concern was etched across his face, furrowing his brows as he studied Damian. “You didn’t come to eat,” Jayden said softly, his tone almost hesitant. Damian didn’t reply. He didn’t even blink. He stared straight ahead, eyes distant, as thoug
Chapter Eight
Damian still couldn’t wrap his mind around what was happening—or who had pulled the strings to get him out. Confusion and a gnawing unease twisted in his chest as they moved through the corridors. When they reached the counter, the other warder looked at him sharply. Damian’s stomach knotted. His heart thumped nervously against his ribs, and he struggled to meet the man’s eyes, feeling exposed and on edge. “You are free to go, —you should leave now and stay out of trouble if you know what’s good for you.” “How is this possible? What changed? We didn’t even go to court…” Damian’s voice trembled with disbelief, his hands clenching at his sides. “Well,” the warder said, shrugging slightly, “Mr. Martins decided to have mercy on you.” Damian’s eyes narrowed. Something didn’t feel right. He had seen Martins just days ago, instructing one of them to make absolutely sure Damian never left. A cold knot of suspicion tightened in his stomach. “Are you sure about that?” he asked, his
Chapter Nine
“Yes, Your Grace.” “Excuse me?” Damian let out a short, bitter laugh that scraped against the rawness of his split lip. “I just got out of jail. There is nothing grace about me,” he said, his voice edged with sarcasm, though the exhaustion beneath it made the words waver. He wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing blood across his knuckles. “Grace… about me?” He shook his head slowly, fatigue and disbelief heavy in his chest. “If you would excuse me, I have a life to catch up with.” “Your Grace, we implore you to come with us. We know you have suffered for so long here. Please… allow us to repay the lost time,” the man said, his voice gentle but firm, carrying a weight of sincerity that Damian wasn’t used to hearing. Damian’s brow furrowed, confusion tightening his chest. “What are you talking about?” His voice was rough, almost breaking, betraying the frustration he had carried through months in confinement. “You are a duke, the Duke of Ravensmere.
Chapter Ten
“Your Grace, Ravensmere welcomes you,” a voice called, low and smooth, carrying an authority that made Damian pause mid-step. He looked up at the entrance, and his gaze froze. The figures before him were clad in unusual, almost archaic attire—long robes of deep velvet embroidered with silver thread, collars stiff as armor, and faces shadowed beneath hoods. Every detail felt as if he had walked straight into a history painting. Damian frowned, a sharp crease forming between his brows. Who are these people? His stomach gave a nervous twist, a twinge he hadn’t expected to feel at the sight of strangers dressed like relics from a forgotten era. The air itself seemed different here—thick, almost fragrant with incense, though he couldn’t see any source. As he walked further into the hall, he noticed another set of people, this time dressed in crisp uniforms, their movements precise, almost rehearsed. House staff, he guessed, though their polished composure made even that uncertain.