The Duke who walked out of Hell

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 stranger is just a stranger,” Vanessa replied, her tone detached.

Damian’s eyes narrowed. Suspicion edged his panic. “You weren’t… having an affair with Martins, right? Were you?”

Vanessa laughed, a sharp, bitter sound that made him flinch as though struck. “I wasn’t having an affair—since this wasn’t a marriage you and I had. My dad forced this thing on us,” she said, her words slicing cleanly through him, precise, unrelenting.

Rage sparked inside Damian, bright and dangerous. “Vanessa, answer me! Were you sleeping with my boss all this time?” His voice grew louder, sharper, the desperation bleeding through the cracks in his composure.

Vanessa furrowed her brow, remaining silent, her eyes cool, detached.

“Vanessa, you better start talking before I do something I’ll regret! Were you… or were you not?” His fists clenched, shaking at his sides.

She had never seen him like this—furious, vulnerable, every emotion raw and exposed.

“Damian… I thought you were smart,” she said, almost softly now. “Didn’t you know he was my boyfriend?”

The world seemed to collapse beneath him. His chest tightened painfully, and a hollow, pained laugh escaped him. “You… you had a boyfriend… while we were married?” His voice cracked, disbelief and anguish colliding.

“Is the child mine?” Damian asked, his voice dropping, trembling with dread.

“No. It’s not,” Vanessa said plainly, her tone final.

Fury and heartbreak collided inside him, a storm of raw, unrelenting emotion. “You want a divorce, right?” he hissed, voice low, dangerous, trembling in equal measure.

Vanessa’s surprise mirrored his intensity. She hadn’t expected the level of his fury. “Em… yes, I guess,” she admitted, almost reluctantly.

Before Damian could respond, the door slammed open with a harsh, sudden bang. Police officers flooded in, their presence immediate, commanding, rigid.

“Police?” Both of them turned sharply, eyes wide, hearts racing.

“He is the one! Arrest him!” Martins shouted, his face swollen, bandaged, twisted in fury. Blood had dried along the edges of the wound Damian had inflicted earlier. “He assaulted me!”

Damian’s stomach lurched violently. “What? No! This isn’t—”

The officers moved with precise efficiency, grabbing his arms with firm, unyielding hands. “Sir, you’re under arrest,” one said, his voice cold, professional.

“What is this about? I have my rights!” Damian protested, straining against their grip, panic climbing like wildfire. “This isn’t fair! You’re making a mistake!”

His chest heaved violently, sweat prickling his temples. Every muscle was taut, coiled, trembling with adrenaline. His mind raced: Vanessa, Martins, the anniversary he had planned, the bag he had bought—all colliding into one unbearable reality.

Vanessa stepped back, expression unreadable, arms crossed. Her gaze was calm, detached, unbothered by the chaos she had unleashed. Damian felt the second stab of betrayal pierce his heart, deeper than any physical wound.

Martins’ smirk ignited another flame in Damian—a dangerous, searing mix of rage, shame, and helplessness coiling tight in his chest. “You’re lying! This is wrong!” he yelled, voice cracking, hands flailing as the officers guided him toward the door.

“Sir, calm down,” one officer warned, tightening their grip.

“I can’t! You don’t understand! She… she lied! She—” His voice faltered, broken under the weight of the betrayal. Every memory, every laugh, every small touch they had shared now felt like a cruel joke. He had loved her with everything in him, and now… it was gone.

As they forced him down the narrow hallway, the sound of his heart hammering in his ears drowned everything else. Every step felt heavier, as if the weight of loss were pressing him into the cold tiles. He could barely process the apartment, the anniversary gift on the table, the traces of their life together—all now irrelevant, swept away in a single morning.

Vanessa’s calm gaze burned into him, every second a quiet accusation, a confirmation of the truth he couldn’t deny. She wasn’t just walking away—she had erased him from her life entirely.

“Please… please, I didn’t do anything wrong!” he pleaded, desperation raw, seeping from every tremor of his voice. “This isn’t fair! You don’t know the truth!”

Martins’ voice sneered, cruel and triumphant. “The truth? The truth is you attacked me. That’s enough.”

Every nerve in Damian’s body screamed—humiliation, rage, heartbreak, disbelief. He struggled harder, but the officers’ grip was ironclad. Every protest, every plea, bounced uselessly off their rigid discipline.

As they descended the stairs, the morning sunlight cutting harshly through the windows, he saw Vanessa one last time. She stood motionless, arms crossed, serene in a way that made his blood boil. The man he had loved, trusted, sacrificed everything for… was nothing more than a stranger being dragged from her life.

He remembered moments they had shared: her laugh echoing in the kitchen, the way she had leaned on him during storms, the careful way she had opened gifts he had given her. Each memory now twisted, poisoned by betrayal.

The bag, the perfect anniversary, the nights spent imagining their future—all gone. He could feel his pulse hammering in his throat, the taste of bile rising as he realized the magnitude of the betrayal.

Martins’ smug face only made it worse, stoking the fire of humiliation and impotent rage inside him. “You—you’re lying! You have to believe me!” Damian shouted, voice cracking, body trembling from the adrenaline and heartbreak.

The officers remained impassive, guiding him steadily, efficiently. “Sir, step aside,” one said, voice firm, unyielding.

And then, the door closed behind him. The world shifted. Reality settled in its cruel, jagged way. Everything he had built, every hope, every plan, every ounce of love and trust—obliterated in a single, brutal morning.

Damian’s chest heaved violently, hands shaking as he was escorted down the street, surrounded by the chaos of the city. The stares of neighbors and passersby, the murmurs of confusion, the echo of Vanessa’s words—they all pressed against him, suffocating, unrelenting.

And worst of all… Vanessa had not only walked away. She had chosen this moment, this betrayal, with deliberate, cold calculation. Every lie she had told, every secret she had hidden, had been revealed in the sharpest, most cutting way possible.

Damian’s mind spun in circles—rage, sorrow, humiliation, disbelief. The storm inside him roared, shaking every nerve. He had loved her. He had trusted her. And now… he had nothing but the bitter taste of betrayal and the iron grip of handcuffs biting into his wrists.