Missy’s POV

I knew him. Derrick—the bastard son of the Carmichaels. He groped my hand at a charity gala once. I slapped him across the face in front of everyone.

Now, his tongue darted out to wet his lips as he looked at me with that same greedy gaze.

I was shaking. My stomach churned violently.

“It’s mine!” I said, my voice trembling.

The auction room went dead silent for a beat. Then—laughter. Explosive, mocking laughter.

“Holy shit!” Micah’s buddy Aries Cavendish nearly fell off his seat. “Didn’t you just buy one last month, Missy? Micha’s rich, sure, but not ‘burn-money-for-fun’ rich.”

He snorted and leaned back, eyes dripping with contempt. “Come on. Let the others take a look. It’s not like you’re giving away your dignity. That ship already sailed.”

More laughter. They caught the scent of blood. Micah didn’t even look at me. Didn’t defend me.

They could all see it—I meant nothing to him.

“Acting like some pure saint? Bitch, weren’t you grinding on camera?”

“Micah doesn’t even give a damn. What the hell are you playing at?”

“Maybe this is his kink—humiliation in high def.”

I bit down hard on my lip. Blood flooded my mouth.

The auction assistant handed me the confirmation slip, hesitant. “Miss, are you sure you want to place the bid?”

“I’m sure.” I signed without hesitation.

“Missy!” Micah shot to his feet, his prayer beads tightening in his hand as he stormed toward me and gripped my wrist hard. His eyes were dark, swirling with rage. “You’re coming home. Now.”

Becca trailed after him with that fake little laugh. “Missy, Micah hates losing face. Do you really need to humiliate him like this?”

She blinked those fake-innocent eyes. “Besides, you’re using his money to buy it anyway. Letting someone else win that disc is a better investment for the company!”

I ignored her.

“Ohhh,” she said, louder this time. “So is it someone else’s money? Got a sugar daddy funding your little rebellion, huh? I mean, it’s not like Micah ever even touches you…”

She smiled sweetly. “Tell you what, if it’s really that big a deal, I’ll pay for it myself.”

Micah’s face darkened. “My money isn’t for you to blow like this.”

I looked at him—at that face I loved for eight years. All I saw now was disgust.

“Charge it,” I said, shoving him aside and handing over the card.

They gave me the disc. A thin, shiny little circle with my humiliation pressed into its grooves.

“Micah,” I whispered, tracing its edge. “Do you even remember why I fought for that prayer beads the last time?”

His brows furrowed slightly.

“It was the last thing my father ever made before he died,” I said. “I told you that. More than once. But you never listened.”

That night, when I parked in front of the Abbotts's place, my hands were still shaking on the wheel.

“Missy…” Barbara, Micah’s mother, came out, wrapping my frozen hands in hers. “You look pale. Did he hurt you again?”

“I want a divorce.”

His father Rudolph slammed his newspaper down. “What did that little bastard do this time?”

I pulled out my phone. Played the clip from the auction.

“Son of a bitch,” Rudolph muttered, his face livid. “How the hell did we raise a kid like that?”

Barbara squeezed my hand. “You’re a good girl. This family owes you far too much.”

By sundown, the lawyer delivered the divorce papers. Two crisp copies on the coffee table.

That’s when the door slammed open.

Micah walked in—with Becca on his arm.

I stood up so fast the fruit knife clattered to the floor.

Missy’s POV

Micah shoved Becca behind him like I was some kind of threat. “Missy! What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m divorcing you.” My voice was calm. I held out the papers. “I’ve already signed mine.”

He gave me this cold little smirk. “You think this reverse psychology is gonna work on me?”

My eyes stung. “You sold my tape. How do you even call yourself a husband?”

Becca marched over and grabbed my arm. “Missy, don’t be so dramatic. The auction? That was just a joke. Chill.”

I yanked my arm back. My sapphire pendant snapped off my neck and shattered on the floor.

It was the only thing my mom left me!

I slapped her.

And then—he smacked my face.

Blood filled my mouth. My ears rang.

He rushed to help her up. She sniffled and looked at me with those crocodile tears. “Missy, I’m so sorry. I’ll pay for the pendant, I swear…”

Micah didn’t say a word. Just pulled out a wad of cash and threw it at me.

“Twenty grand. You can buy ten of those cheap trinkets. Want to go crazy? Do it outside.”

I dropped to my knees. Picked up the shattered sapphire pieces one by one. My hands were bleeding by the end of it.

It rained hard at the cemetery.

I clutched my mom’s headstone and sobbed until my whole body shook.

“Mom… I was wrong. I thought if I loved him enough, if I worked hard enough… he’d see me. But…”

Even the wind sounded like it was crying.

Suddenly—I heard the click of heels.

Becca stood there under a black umbrella, smirking.

I glared at her. “Get out of here. You’re not welcome.”

She said nothing at first. She just smiled. Then she pulled out a lighter.

One flick, and she dropped it into the dry grass.

The fire… roared to life.

“Mom!” I lunged at the flames, slapping at them with my bare hands.

But then—Becca started coughing violently.

Through the rain, Micah’s figure appeared. He ran toward us, hisbeyes widening when he saw the fire.

“Missy, are you out of your damn mind?!”

Becca collapsed against him, crying like a damsel in distress. “Micah, I was worried about her. We came to find her—and she tried to burn me alive!”

He wrapped his arms around her. Didn’t even look at me. “Let’s go. She’s not worth it.”

They walked away while I stayed on my knees in the mud. My hair smelled like burnt ends.

When the staff finally came to put the fire out, I collapsed in front of my mom’s tomb.

“Thank God… You’re still here…” I whispered, trembling.

One of the workers hesitated. “Ma’am, why did you try so hard to protect it?”

I blinked at him. “It’s my mother’s grave.”

He looked confused. “But this… this is an empty grave.”

I froze. “What?”

He scratched his head. “A few days ago, your husband’s assistant—Becca, I think—called and paid to have the remains moved.”

Becca.

She was never a secretary.

My fingers trembled as I pulled out my phone and called Micah.

He took forever to answer, and his voice came cold. “What?”

“Where is Becca?”

His voice turned sharper. “Missy, I’m running out of patience.”

He was about to hang up when I heard something in the background—a server, saying the name of a hotel.

I bolted upright and headed straight there.

The hotel ballroom was glowing with lights and laughter.

Micah was the same cold, self-important bastard as always—dressed like royalty, glass of water in hand, laughing with business elites like he wasn’t made of ice. And then there was Becca, floating around in a red mermaid dress. They looked like the perfect couple.

She spotted me instantly. Her lips curled into that smug little smirk, like she’d already won something. She walked toward me, hips swaying like a damn performance.

She held out a glass of champagne. “Drink with me?”

I stared her dead in the eyes and spoke slowly. “Where. Are. My mother’s ashes?”

She blinked in all fake innocence. “Ashes? What ashes?”

I stepped in, close enough to feel her flinch. Rage rolled off me in waves.

“My mother’s ashes,” I hissed. “Where the hell are they?”

She laughed, and then she blew on her nails like this was a goddamn spa day. “Oh, those? Who knows what kind of dirt we dug up. Wind caught it, poof, gone!”

I snatched the champagne from her hand and smashed it against her head.

Screams erupted. Chaos. Someone shrieked. I didn’t care.

Micah’s face turned thundercloud black. He stormed over and hit me hard in the belly. I flew backward and crashed into the long table behind me.

“Missy! Are you insane?!”

Becca was sobbing now, blood running down her face, her hands clutching her head. “Micah… Micah it hurts.”

Micah’s eyes practically burned through me. “Security! Get her the hell out of here!”

A bunch of guards grabbed me and dragged me across the floor like I wasn’t human.

And behind me, Micah’s unforgiving voice rang out. “Take her to the northern meditation quarters. Maybe that’ll calm that demon in her the fuck down.”

The scent of incense clung to the air.

I was kneeling on a meditation mat, tears spilling quietly down my cheeks.

They desecrated my mom’s grave, dug it up, and threw her ashes into the wind like garbage!

I pulled out my phone with shaking hands and dialed the number I hadn’t touched in years.

It only took one ring. A lazy, familiar voice answered. “Well, well. The princess finally remembers me?”

My mouth opened, but no sound came.

Then I broke.

“I want to go home…” I sobbed, my shoulders shaking, my voice cracking.

The other end went dead silent.

Then came a voice cold enough to freeze hell. “Who touched you?”

I choked on my own breath. “He doesn’t love me… They—they dug up Mom’s grave… and now he’s locked me away—”

“Stay put,” the voice growled, a storm beneath it. “I’m coming.”

The moment the call ended, Micah’s name popped up on my screen.

I picked it up and shouldn’t have.

“You lunatic,” he spat. “Thanks to you, Becca can’t bear a child anymore!”

“You couldn’t leave it alone, could you?” His voice twisted into something cruel. “She recommended a spiritual teacher. Says he’s good at taming wild women like you.”

As soon as he hung up, the door creaked open.

A tall, lanky man in monk robes stepped in. There was something wrong with his eyes—wet and greedy. He walked toward me, slow and steady, like a predator.

Then—he grabbed me.

I screamed, pushing and fighting. “Get off me! This is supposed to be sacred ground!”

He leaned in, breath hot and filthy against my ear. “Sir Micah says to reform you… thoroughly.”

“Help!” I shrieked.

But all I got was a slap.

My world spun, and blood filled my mouth.

He grinned, lifted his foot, and stomped on my phone. It crushed it into pieces.

“Let’s see who comes now.”

That son of a bitch threw me down. My skull hit the floor with a crack, and my vision blurred.

But I saw it—a white porcelain vase on the coffee table. Without wasting a second, I grabbed it with the strength of the damned.

Missy’s POV

The vase shattered against the son of a bitch’s temple. His eyes rolled back, and he dropped like a sack of trash.

I stumbled to the door—it was locked. I ran to the window.

‘I’m on the third floor. Shit!’

Behind me, I heard footsteps. “She’s trying to escape!”

There was no time to think.

I jumped.

Agony exploded in my leg as I hit the ground. I couldn’t move, not even scream.

Ansel, the “spiritual” freak, appeared above me, and I could see rage twist on his face.

He mercilessly stomped on my broken leg.

When I almost passed out, he dragged me back.

“You want to run?” he snarled, tearing off his belt. “Here’s your final lesson.”

His greasy hands reached for my collarbone. “So soft…”

The red light on the camera blinked. ‘He’s fucking recording!’

I wanted to puke.

Just then—a blade flashed, and it drove straight through his hand.

He screamed at the top of his lungs.

Behind him, a figure stepped in.

Tall. Calm.

I watched as bloody gloves slid off the figure’s hands casually.