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—”

Amara's POV

At that moment, Grayson completely lost control and burst into the lounge like a madman.

Shortly, gunshots echoed through the hall. His bodyguards stormed in right after, dragging out Mr. Bishop, bloody, broken, and barely breathing.

Grayson went berserk. He kicked the man again and again, wild with rage, his blows landing on Mr. Bishop’s lower body until the man no longer moved.

It wasn’t until Alyssa’s sobs broke through the chaos that he finally stopped. He picked her up, his eyes still burning, and brushed past me without a word.

But as they passed, Alyssa suddenly lifted her head from his chest, her expression twisting into a vicious smile.

“Amara, did you really think you mattered? Grayson’s always loved me! And I bet you don’t even know. After I beat that little bastard out of your womb, Grayson had your uterus transplanted into me.”

“Shut up!” Grayson’s face went pale as he turned to me, panic flashing in his eyes.

But Alyssa only sneered triumphantly. “You’re nothing now but a useless woman, an empty shell who’ll never bear a child again.”

The room went silent. So silent that it hurt.

I stood frozen, my mind blank, a sharp ringing filling my ears.

No wonder my body had felt strange after the surgery. So that was what it was. The man I loved for six years had taken away my ability to ever be a mother for the woman who had killed our child.

My heart twisted violently. Pain spread through my chest, so sharp it felt like my ribs might crack. I bent over, every breath cutting through me like knives.

Seeing me like that, Grayson’s eyes flickered with guilt. He took a step toward me, but before he could reach out, Alyssa whimpered and went limp in his arms.

“Grayson, my stomach… it hurts… the baby, is something wrong with the baby?”

At that, his hesitation vanished. All the remorse in his eyes disappeared in an instant as he turned and ran out with her in his arms.

I watched him leave without looking back, and the last bit of warmth in my heart went cold.

Leaning against the wall, I stared blankly at the floor for a long time before pulling out my phone.

“I’ve made my decision,” I said quietly when the line connected. “I’ll go through with the engagement with the Harlows in Milwaukee.”

That night, Grayson returned home. He knelt in the middle of the hall and, right in front of me, ordered his bodyguards to whip him ninety-nine lashes.

Blood pooled into the gaps of the tiles, and the metallic scent was thick enough to make me nauseous.

Yet, I turned away, picked up the divorce papers from the table, and handed them to him.

"Sign it. We only registered the marriage, but the ceremony never happened. No one else really knows. It’ll be simple.”

It was like I’d struck him with lightning as the color drained from his face, and he shook his head violently, reaching for my hand. “No, Amara. I’m not signing. I love you. I only love you!”

But I stepped back, and he fell forward onto the floor.

Then his gaze caught the fruit knife on the table. Without a word, he grabbed it and stabbed himself in the stomach.

Grayson had built his empire in the shadows. He’d always been ruthless, even with himself.

He stopped the servants from calling a doctor, stopped the guards from coming near. Instead, he just looked at me, bleeding out, and smiled weakly. “Does this make it up to you? If not, I’ll stab myself again.”

I stared at the blood spilling from his wound, then finally lowered my eyes.

“Divorce,” I said quietly. “Or the baby in Alyssa’s belly. You can only keep one.”

The smile on his face froze.

After that day, he disappeared for three days. When he came back, he looked like he’d been hollowed out.

He then threw an abortion certificate on the table and hoarsely said, “Alyssa had already lost the baby. Are you happy now?”

But I didn’t even glance at it.

He let out a heavy sigh, exhaustion written all over his face, then crouched down to hold my hand. “Sweetheart, I’ve already sent Alyssa away. Let’s just go back to how things used to be, okay?”

He had killed my child. He had taken away my ability to ever have another. And now, with one simple sentence, “I sent her away," he thought that would erase everything I’d lost.