After Marriage, My Good Luck Became a Curse

“How did Claudia’s leg get broken? I’m going to make you understand it today!”

Lawrence’s voice was low and venomous.

“Someone! Get a car!”

The bodyguards seized me at once. “Hold her.”

He climbed into the SUV, slammed the door, and floored the accelerator.

My legs were bound with thick rope, my upper body pinned by two men. I couldn’t move—only watch in frozen horror as the headlights bore down on me.

The impact came like a lightning strike. Pain exploded through me, white-hot and blinding. My legs crumpled beneath the weight of the car. I bit down so hard that a piece of flesh tore from my tongue, the copper taste flooding my mouth.

The SUV rolled back. Lawrence stepped out, eyes dark and unhinged.

“Selene,” he said slowly, “this is your last chance. Promise to give Claudia a good life in her remaining years—and speak to save Alex—and I’ll let you live.”

His mouth twisted in rage.

I met his gaze and gave him a bitter smile. I shaped the words with my lips: Dream on.

His expression sank into something black and soulless. He stalked over, then ground his heel into my shattered ankle.

Agony ripped through me, so sharp I saw stars. My nails dug into my palms, breaking skin, but still he pressed harder, over and over, eyes fever-bright with cruelty.

“Are you sure you won’t speak?” His voice was a growl. “I won’t give you another chance.”

I was half-conscious, my body trembling, the world narrowing into throbbing pain. Words were beyond me.

---

Barely fifteen minutes had passed when I heard shouting from outside the courtyard.

“Let me go!”

The sound jolted me upright—it was my brother.

The bodyguards dragged him in, struggling against their grip.

Ten years I had hidden him, always fearing Lawrence might use him against me. I had prepared for everything. And still, he found him.

Lawrence’s hand clamped around my brother’s throat. “I’ve changed my mind,” he sneered. “Instead of letting you and Alex die together, I’d rather make you watch your family suffer—piece by piece.”

His tone was almost casual. “From now on, every ten minutes I’ll take one of his hands. Should I chop them clean off, or break every finger first, one by one, before finishing the job?”

He yanked my hair, forcing me to look.

My brother met my eyes, shaking his head even as he gasped for breath.

“Sister,” his voice rasped, “don’t forget what our parents told you. Don’t do anything you’ll regret—no matter what.”

“Shut up!”

Lawrence snapped his fingers backward with a sickening crack.

“Ah!” My brother’s scream pierced the air.

Lawrence’s gaze pinned me like a knife. “Remember this, Selene—he’s suffering because of you.”