
"You pathetic excuse of a man!" Clarissa spat, her voice cutting sharper than glass. "It's exhausting pretending you mean shit to me!"
Her words lingered in the air like poison, her beauty doing nothing to soften the sting. She was flawless by society's standards: high cheekbones, red lips, hair that cascaded down her shoulders like waves. But Ryan had long since stopped seeing her beauty. To him, she had become a monster the moment the cameras went down, when the public no longer watched their fairy-tale marriage unfold. Two years. Two long years. That was how long Ryan had endured this sham. He had learned to silence his tongue, to swallow his pain until it rotted inside him. Clarissa was not just any woman, she was a Whintrop. The Whintrops were a dynasty, a grand name that carried weight in every boardroom, every gala, every political circle. And Clarissa's mother, Eleanor Whintrop, was the queen at the centre of it all, a woman who corrupted her daughter into believing she was untouchable, too high to stoop to the level of the man she had married. Ryan, on the other hand, was nothing. At least, that's what they told him. A mere employee in the family's conglomerate, a "lowly worker" who should be grateful they even allowed him into their gilded world. He had worked in their company for years, devoting himself fully, pouring sweat and sleepless nights into projects that pushed their empire forward. But his sacrifices meant nothing. They discarded his efforts like scraps on the floor, crediting others, laughing behind his back, reducing him to little more than a shadow. And Clarissa? The woman he had once loved, the woman he had sworn to cherish, she discarded him most of all. He had done everything for her. He'd surprised her to make her smile, enduring the humiliation of her sharp tongue and her cold stares just to hold onto the hope that she might one day soften. He would have given her the world if she asked. But to her, he was a leper. She hadn't let him touch her since the second year of their marriage. Every night he reached for her every night he was met with disdain, as though his very existence dirtied her. Ryan lived in silence, but silence was a wound that never healed. So when he went on a business trip, sent on behalf of the company like the obedient pawn they thought him to be, he threw himself into the work. He delivered, as always. And when the deal closed earlier than expected, he thought he'd surprise her. A small, foolish part of him still clung to the idea that if he just tried harder, if he showed her he cared, she would look at him the way she once had. He boarded the plane home with that fragile hope. But hope has a cruel way of breaking. The Whintrop mansion loomed like a fortress as he stepped inside, his suitcase still in hand. It was quiet, almost too quiet, until he heard a sound drifting down the hallway, faint but unmistakable. Low moans, muffled gasps. His heart thudded, confusion rising like bile. He followed the sounds, dread clawing at his gut, until he reached the master bedroom. The door was half-open. And that was when his world shattered. Clarissa was inside, naked, her beautiful body on full display. She was on her knees, her lips wrapped around another man's with obscene devotion. The sight rooted Ryan in place, his breath stolen from his lungs. He wanted to believe it wasn't real, that his mind was conjuring a nightmare. But it was real. Too real. And the man? None other than Matthias Reed. A billionaire. Ruthless, arrogant, untouchable. He came into their lives and had been a guest at their galas. Matthias, represented everything Ryan wasn't--power, wealth, the kind of man Clarissa's mother made her believe was worthy of their bloodline. Clarissa's moans filled the room as if Ryan didn't exist. His throat closed, rage and heartbreak colliding in a storm that nearly choked him. He wanted to storm in, to drag her away, to crush the smug bastard before him. But his legs felt like lead, frozen in the doorway, watching the woman he loved degrade him without even knowing he was there. And then Matthias looked up. The bastard smirked. That smirk was worse than a knife. It wasn't just arrogance, it was mockery. A deliberate, silent message: I've taken what's yours, and there's nothing you can do about it. Ryan's fists clenched until his nails dug into his palms, drawing blood. Every sacrifice he had made, every humiliation he had endured, all of it boiled over into a fury that made his vision blur. He stepped inside. The sound of his foot hitting the floor made Clarissa freeze. She pulled back, lips slick and eyes widening in horror as she turned. "Ryan--" she gasped, scrambling to cover herself with the sheets. Matthias didn’t flinch. He leaned back against the headboard, utterly at ease, his smirk widening. "Well, well. Look who decided to come home early." Ryan's jaw tightened, his voice hoarse with the weight of betrayal. "What the hell is this?' Clarissa's eyes flickered with guilt for a moment--only a moment--before her face hardened, her chin lifting with defiance. "What does it look like?" she hissed. "Something you could never give me." The words hit harder than any slap. Ryan staggered, his chest burning as though the air itself turned to fire. "After everything I've done for you--everything I've given--this is how you repay me?" Clarissa laughed, sharp and cruel. "Given? You’ve given me nothing. You think your pitiful salary, your pathetic efforts in the company, mean anything? You’re nothing, Ryan. Nothing but a charity case. Do you know what it’s like, being tied to you? Do you know how humiliating it is for me, to smile beside you in public while everyone whispers that I could do better?" Matthias chuckled, the sound dripping with condescension. "She's not wrong, you know. A man should know his place. And yours… isn't here." His fury fought with the cold realisation that this was the final straw. Whatever love remained had been ground into dust. He stared at Clarissa, the woman he once believed he could save. "I gave you my loyalty," he said quietly, his voice trembling with restrained rage. "I would have given you my life. But you--you've made me regret every second of it." Clarissa sneered, her eyes like shards of ice. "Good. Then maybe you'll finally get the point." "I do," Ryan said finally. "I want a divorce."
Latest Chapter
Chapter 11
The rooftop was still. Only the night wind moved, tugging at Clarissa's dress, scattering strands of her hair across her damp cheeks. She clutched herself as though her body might splinter apart under the weight of everything she had seen. Her sobs came ragged, broken, clawing at the silence."You knew, mother!" Her voice cracked into the air, jagged and raw. She looked at her mother with wide, red-rimmed eyes that carried nothing but betrayal. "You knew what he was. You knew--and you let him near me."Her mother stood firm, though her hands trembled against her gown. For once her poise slipped, not enough to crumble but enough for the cracks to show. "Clarissa, you exaggerate. You think Ryan's little performance tonight erases what he has always been? He soiled everything. He humiliated you, humiliated us all. And still--still you cry for him?"Clarissa flinched as though struck. "He saved me!" she shouted, her voice breaking. "If he hadn't--if he hadn't--" The words died, choked by
Chapter 10
The hall shimmered with chandeliers and hushed anticipation. Cameras flashed outside the hall as limousines lined the red carpet. Society's most powerful men and women gathered for the night, the great unveiling of Grotech’s elusive owner. Clarissa stood beside her mother, her gown glittering with self-importance, her lips painted in smug satisfaction. At last, she thought, at last they would meet the man she had been chasing after for years through endless proposals. Whoever he was, tonight he would finally take her family seriously.Her mother whispered with pride, "This partnership will restore us, Clarissa. All of them will see."Clarissa smiled, already imagining herself shaking hands with a faceless titan. Then the announcement came. The host's voice rang across the ballroom."Ladies and gentlemen, Grotech’s founder and chief executive officer--Ryan Ardyn."The room stilled.Clarissa’s heart stopped.Across the hall, striding with calm authority, was no faceless titan. It was R
Chapter 9
Ryan sat alone in the quiet study of the mansion, the heavy tome spread across the desk before him. The Book of Contracts breathed with a life of its own. Its blackened leather cover pulsed faintly under his fingertips, as though it recognised the blood running in his veins. He had fought a demon now, looked into its hollow eyes, felt the terror of facing something not of this world, and since then, the book had changed.Pages that once lay dormant now stirred. Ink bled across parchment, words appearing where none had been before. Ryan leaned closer, and the script shifted, rearranging itself until it settled into something legible.Names. Old names. Prominent families threaded into the city's history. Families who held political sway, corporate empires, and generational power. Contracts written in their blood. Bargains sealed with something darker than law or finance.His pulse quickened when one name burned brighter than the rest--Whintrop.Ryan's jaw tightened. So that was why the
Chapter 8
The days that followed were brutal. The gentleman assigned Ryan mentors--fighters who pushed his body to the brink, scholars who buried him in texts about demons, and advisers who spoke to him about Grotech. The company was massive, sprawling across industries he had never even touched. He had to learn, quickly, how to command not only his body, but also businessmen.His nights belonged to combat. His mornings, to company boardrooms. Every hour in between, to study.Ryan had thought he knew exhaustion from working for the Whintrops, but this was worse. Yet, strangely, he felt alive for the first time. Each bruise, each scar, each decision in the boardroom chipped away at the man who had been mocked and cast aside.Still, shadows clung to his thoughts. Clarissa. The humiliation she inflicted on him. The way she’d spat in his face, the contempt in her eyes. And Matthias, always Matthias, smirking like he owned the world.Ryan swore he’d never have anything to do with them. But fate had
Chapter 7
Training had begun.Ryan stood in the centre of the chamber, sweat already dampening his palms though he hadn't moved yet. Across from him, shackled to a circle of iron sigils, waited the thing the Gentleman had called a lesser demon.Not that Ryan got a closer view of it. It looked wrong. It wasn't monstrous in size, not some slavering beast of fire and fangs as Ryan might have imagined from myths, but a gaunt figure with a human frame. Its skin was pale, almost waxen, stretched too thin over its bones. The eyes were pits, black, hollow, and yet filled with a terrible evil. Something that had once been human and had rotted away into emptiness.Ryan's throat tightened as he stared at it. The thing did not blink. It did not breathe. It only watched."This," the Gentleman said from behind him, his voice smooth as silk over steel, "was once a man. You see it now hollowed out. The soul long devoured, replaced by hunger. They were fathers, mothers, soldiers, thieves--anyone can fall, given
Chapter 6
The mansion was vast enough to swallow Ryan whole, every corridor humming with quiet wealth and authority, but when the gentleman led him down a winding staircase, Ryan realised he had only glimpsed the surface. Torches flickered along stone walls, casting shadows that moved like living things. At the bottom, the air was colder, denser, carrying the faint metallic tang of iron and something stranger, something that raised the hair on Ryan’s neck.They stepped into an underground hall. Ryan stopped short.It wasn't like anything he had seen before. Rows of weapons gleamed under pale light: blades etched with runes, spears tipped with blackened steel, guns modified with sigils scratched across the barrels. On one wall hung armours of different eras--knights’ breastplates, trench coats stitched with silver threads, even sleek tactical suits. And in the far corner, behind bars reinforced with glowing chains, something shifted. Its form was half-shadow, half-flesh, its eyes burning faintl
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