The Man Who Destroyed Me Is Now Begging to Mend Me 40
An image of Emily’s face surfaced instantly in Lucas’s mind. It wasn’t something he’d ever allowed himself to consider before, but now with Sophia’s body failing them, he couldn’t help it.
She watched his eyes, and after three years of marriage, she knew him better than he knew himself. She saw it. The unspoken name.
‘It shouldn’t hurt this much. There was no love between us, she reminded herself. But there should have been respect. Instead, every move he made felt designed to strip her of dignity.
“Lucas Westwood,” she said, her voice dangerously low, “I don’t care who you’re thinking of. I will never, ever agree to carry another woman’s child.”
She was shaking, raw anger coursing through her. She huffed inside, ‘Does he really see me as nothing more than a vessel, a surrogate for him and his mistress?‘
Seeing that she saw right through him, Lucas dropped the pretense, his voice turning cold and utilitarian. “You carried the Westwood name, you married the job. Heirs are in the fine print.”
He folded his arms, every inch the CEO closing a hostile takeover. “Emily’s offering the eggs. It was no anonymous donor. You should be sending her a thank–you card.”
Tears of fury burned behind Sophia’s eyes. “Then find another Westwood daughter–in–law. I resign.”
Lucas’s expression frosted over, his eyes turning to chips of ice. “Repeat that.”
As she stared at the man she once loved, a wave of pure, unadulterated hatred washed over her, so intense she wanted to drag them both down into the abyss. “If I could, I wish I had never met you, Lucas.”
Just when she thought he couldn’t sink any lower, he always found a new way to surprise her with his despicable nature.
She thought, ‘If he wants to be with Emily and have a child with her, then get a divorce! Give her a proper place by his side. But no. He has to choose to torment me. What did I ever do to deserve this?‘
Something cracked behind his eyes. In two strides, he had her pinned to the wall, fingers bracketing her throat.
Too late for do–overs, sweetheart. Emily can’t carry. But you…” his free hand splayed over her belly, “you only have an ovulation disorder. Everything else is in perfect working order. Destiny, right?”
The words landed like a physical blow, crushing the air from her lungs. A horrifying thought struck her. ‘Did he marry me three years ago just for this?‘
Her heart clenched with an agony so sharp she felt like tearing it out of her own chest. She once believed he was her salvation, but now she knew. He was her own personal hell.
“You make me sick,” she choked out, her voice strained against his grip. “Forcing me to carry your and your mistress’s child… You really know how to destroy a person, don’t you?”
Lucas’s jaw tightened. He ran his tongue over his canine, fighting back the violent urge shaking him from within. “Think whatever you want. Do the job, and the Westwood platinum card stays yours.”
“Go to hell!” she swore, her fury boiling over. She huffed, ‘How could anyone be so utterly shameless? Why did I ever love
this monster?‘
His patience snapped. He tightened his grip on her jaw, making her gasp. “Sophia, if I hear you curse at me again, I’ll make
sure you can’t.”
A sharp, stabbing pain shot through her jaw, bringing instant, humiliating tears to her eyes. The face that once made her heart flutter now only filled her with revulsion.
In a final act of defiance, Sophia spat directly in his face.
Lucas, caught off guard, froze for a split second. Then, his face twisted in fury. He snatched the silk handkerchief from his suit pocket, wiping the spit away with jerky, furious movements, his eyes promising murder. “Sophia, you’re begging for it.”
She lifted her chin, exposing the line of her neck in a dare. “Do it, Lucas. Strangle me. I don’t want to breathe the air with trash like you anyway.”
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