Amara's POV

I was kidnapped by Grayson Locke’s ex-wife, the woman he hated the most. Right in front of him, she beat me with a steel rod until the three-month-old baby in my womb was gone.

“Grayson, this is the price for loving her! If you want revenge, kill me in this bed!” she screamed.

Later, when I was rescued, he stabbed her womb, stripped her naked, and threw her into the slums.

After that day, everyone in Chicago knew that I was Grayson’s weakness.

But a week before our wedding, I walked into the bridal shop’s fitting room and froze. There he was, pinning her against the wall. His hands trembled as he kissed the scars on her bare back, tender and full of guilt.

Alyssa Hartwell bit down hard on his throat. “These scars are what you owe me, Grayson. How are you planning to repay them?”

He whispered hoarsely, “How do you want me to pay you back?”

Smirking, she answered, “I want Amara to suffer like I did. I want her to live through the same hellish slum I did.”

Grayson went quiet for a moment, then let out a cold laugh. “Fine. If that’s what you want.”

——

But she saw him hesitate, so she sneered, refusing to let go. “What’s wrong? You pity her now? Wasn’t it you who said you wished you could die in my arms?”

Grayson scoffed. “She’s my wife. If I don’t care about her, should I care about you?”

He then pulled on his shirt and turned to leave.

Alyssa’s eyes darkened with resentment. She grabbed him by the neck and bit his lips so hard he flinched.

He leaned back, muttering coldly, “What are you, a mad dog?”

“For you, I'm willing to be one,” she whispered.

Grayson’s face hardened. “You’re pregnant and still this wild? I swear, I could kill you right now.”

Alyssa laughed, proud and unbothered. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Shut up!” he roared.

I couldn’t listen anymore.

Pregnant? So, Alyssa’s womb wasn’t ruined after all.

Grayson lied to me.

My hand went to my stomach. Three months ago, she beat my baby to death. I could still feel the warmth of that blood on my palms.

I could still remember the rage in Grayson’s eyes that day.

“You killed my son,” he said, voice trembling with fury. “You’ll never bear a child again.”

Then he stabbed her eight times. When she was barely breathing, he stripped her naked and dumped her in Chicago’s largest slum.

In the rearview mirror, I saw filthy hands drag her into a tattered hut.

Now I knew that the entire scene had been a show for me.

Wiping away tears that burned with hatred, I smiled bitterly.

He must’ve forgotten. I might’ve played the good girl for years, but I was raised to be ruthless and fearless.

When I stepped out of the fitting room, the clerk noticed my pale face. “Miss Wells, are you all right? Do you need any help?”

I looked up at the center of the hall, where my wedding dress hung, a one-of-a-kind piece Grayson had custom-made for me.

Just an hour ago, I’d imagined every bit of happiness our future could hold when I first saw it. Now, it looked like a blade, sharp, gleaming, and twisted right through my heart.

Pain spread through me like wildfire. I bit my lip until I tasted blood.

“Burn it,” I said quietly, pointing at the dress.

Without waiting for her response, I walked out.

By the time Grayson came home, it was past midnight. He hugged me from behind just as I turned off my phone, the same phone that had just received five gigabytes of videos and photos.

“You didn’t like the wedding dress?” he asked softly. “Why’d you have them burn it?”

“It was dirty,” I replied flatly.

He froze, tightening his arms around me as if sensing something off.

“Alright,” he murmured. “If you don’t like it, we’ll get a new one. I’ll order something better for you.”

He then leaned down, about to kiss me.

But the moment his lips neared mine, all I could see were the images from the video, their bodies entangled, lost in each other.

My gaze then fell on the fresh hickey at his throat and got a sniff of the faint scent of lily lingering on his skin, which wasn’t mine.

Amara's POV

The nausea hit me so hard I almost threw up right there. I shoved him away and bolted for the bathroom, vomiting until my whole body trembled.

When I came out, the entire hall was filled with servants, all standing stiff and terrified.

Grayson sat on the couch, flicking a lighter open and closed. The flame danced across his face, casting a cold, shadowy glow.

“I’m paying you all a fortune,” he said slowly, voice low and sharp, “and this is how you take care of my wife?”

Every one of these servants had been handpicked by him. After what happened with the kidnapping, he’d made sure they were bound by life-and-death contracts. If anything happened to me, none of them would survive either.

One young maid collapsed to her knees, crying, “Mr. Locke, we all know Miss Wells means everything to you! So, we’ve done everything carefully, her meals, her clothes, her bedding, everything’s the best we could find!”

Before she could finish, a bodyguard stormed in, grabbed her, and, without hesitation, cut off both her hands before dragging her out.

The hall went dead silent after that. No one even dared to breathe.

“No one can tell me what happened?” Grayson said coldly. “Fine. Each of you, leave me a pair of hands.”

I stepped forward quickly, lips trembling. “It has nothing to do with them. It’s my problem. Let them go.”

He looked at me, his expression softening instantly. He pulled me into his arms and gently wiped my face with his sleeve, as if nothing had just happened.

“My wife has spoken,” he murmured. “Forget about today.”

But the next morning, every servant in the villa had been replaced. But even with scented candles burning in every corner, the smell of blood still lingered in the air.

Yet, Grayson acted like nothing had happened and even personally fed me spoonfuls of nourishing porridge, one bite at a time.

I ate mechanically, my heart frozen solid.

Before, I might’ve told myself this was love, that his cruelty came from how much he cared. But now, it just felt pathetic. Like a cheap, poorly acted play, and I was sick of watching it.

“Baby,” he said, smiling as if nothing was wrong, “you look beautiful today. What’s the occasion?”

I smiled faintly. “There’s an auction later. I’ve got a surprise for you.”

As we were about to leave, his phone rang. A strange ringtone, two long tones, one short, like a secret code.

Before he could answer, I took it from his hand and ended the call.

“Today, you’re spending time with me,” I said, watching his face closely. “Or is that call something… special?”

He looked startled, rubbing the bridge of his nose with a nervous chuckle. “Just work. Nothing special. Of course, you come first.”

But on the drive there, the phone rang again with the same tone, over and over, each time more insistent.

This time, I could see the irritation tightening his jaw.

Just before he lost his composure completely, we arrived at the venue.

I handed his phone back and said, “Go ahead. Answer it.”

He grabbed it quickly, not noticing the frost in my eyes.

Just as he started to dial, the massive auction hall doors swung open. The giant panoramic screen flickered to life, and the moment he saw it, the color drained from his face.

It was a sex video. The man’s face was blurred out, but the woman’s wasn’t.

The audio filled the room, breathy and familiar.

I walked calmly to the front row and sat down.

“I don’t know who was kind enough to send me this,” I said lightly.

Ignoring Grayson’s thunderous expression, I added with a mocking smile, “Grayson, did you know your ex-wife’s quite the performer? Seems like she doesn’t mind any man at all.”

The crowd erupted in whispers.

Someone laughed, “That body though, it kind of looks like Mr. Locke, doesn’t it?”

Another jumped in quickly, eager to please, “No way! Mr. Locke only loves Miss Wells. Everyone knows his ex-wife caused Miss Wells’ miscarriage. He hates that woman. He wanted her dead. There’s no chance he’d ever touch her again.”

With that, the tension broke, and people started laughing more boldly.

Someone at the back even whistled and said crudely, “Say what you want, but damn, that woman’s got one hell of a body. My blood pressure’s through the roof just watching her.”

Amara's POV

“That’d be worth any price if I could take her to bed for a night.”

The lewd shout sliced through the air, and Grayson’s face went from dark to darker by the second.

He clenched his fist but kept his voice low. “Honey, Alyssa was my woman once. You can’t just do this. Take the video down. If you’re angry, I’ll handle her myself.”

Handle her like what, kill her in bed? I laughed coldly. “Fine.”

Quickly, the video vanished cleanly from the screen.

Finally, Grayson let out a breath, but then his pupils suddenly widened as a huge gilded cage dropped from above the stage.

Alyssa was bound, her hands and feet tied, tape over her mouth. She shrank into a corner and trembled. Scars raked across half her body like a jagged landscape. Through her thin clothes, they showed plainly, stirring the crowd’s worst instincts.

The room exploded with noise. Men shouted bids like animals.

“One million! I want her!”

“Five million. She’s mine today!”

“Not a chance! I’ll bid the highest!”

I smiled, mild and sharp. “Grayson, auction the money for Alyssa and buy me a new wedding dress.”

“That’s enough!” Grayson could no longer pretend. His eyes were bloodshot as he glared at me and yelled, “Amara, put her down this instant. The man in that video is me!”

Silence crashed over the hall. I looked up slowly.

He locked eyes with me and, for a moment, I saw a frantic flicker beneath his bravado. His voice softened, pleading. “Sweetheart, it’s my fault. I can explain. Punish me however you like. But Alyssa’s innocent. She’s carrying my child.”

Alyssa? The woman he’d claimed he wanted dead for revenge.

I stared at him, cold as death. “What about our child? Do you expect me to just accept that he’s gone?”

He launched into a rehearsed line as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Alyssa agreed. When her baby’s born, she’ll give it to you to raise. Boy or girl, the child will inherit our wealth. We’ll be a happy family of three.”

His shamelessness stunned me. I stood there for two seconds, then laughed through my anger. “You lied to me. You tricked that woman, made her lose her child, and now you expect me to raise your bastard? You actually think that’s a gift?”

“Grayson,” I said slowly, “aren’t you afraid my child will come back to collect?”

His face hardened. “What do you mean by ‘bastard’? It’s our child. When did you get so cruel and petty? I’m disappointed in you.”

When I stayed silent, he sighed theatrically. “Amara, please. Let her go. I’ll only let Alyssa see the baby five times a week. Isn’t that punishment enough?”

I was so furious I laughed. Then I slapped him hard across the face, each word squeezed out between my teeth. “Let her go? Don’t make me laugh.”

I pointed to the man who’d just bade the highest and stated, “Mr. Bishop, Alyssa’s yours. Enjoy.”

Mr. Bishop hesitated for a heartbeat, so I reminded him, cool as ice, “Whether you want her or not, I'm not going to refund your money.”

That pushed him over the edge. He quickly grabbed her and dragged her offstage toward the lounge.

Grayson started forward, but I stepped behind him and warned, “If you go in there today, Grayson, we’re finished.”

He froze, body stiff, eyes nearly bleeding. Then a woman’s scream rang out from the lounge.

“Grayson! Help me… ah—”