After Marrying a Fake Heiress, She Regretted Losing Me

She didn’t flinch. Instead, she lazily trailed a finger down my chest, then my abs, a smirk tugging at her lips.

"In our world, purity doesn’t matter. Only status does. You’re taking this too seriously."

I caught her hand mid-motion, twisting it back just enough to make her gasp, then pulled her into my arms, locking her against me.

As punishment, I bit her earlobe, my teeth grazing her skin.

"Don’t talk nonsense. Whatever you want, I can give it to you. Don’t go."

She winced, barely, before breaking free. The warmth in her eyes vanished, replaced with ice.

"Edmund, you’ve crossed the line. You’re being punished. Go stand guard at the gate as a security officer for three days. Come back when you’ve calmed down."

I stood frozen in disbelief, tightening my chest. But she didn’t wait for a response.

"Before you go, pick out a dress for me and help me get ready."

Like dressing up a doll, I slipped her into the red dress I had chosen, my hands moving with practiced ease as I styled her hair. Her scent lingered on my fingertips, but I swallowed the frustration burning in my throat and turned away.

Without another word, I stormed off to the security post.

She left right before my eyes.

Got into a car.

And by midnight, she still hadn’t returned.

Anxiety clawed at my chest as I called her again and again.

No answer.

By two in the morning, I dialed once more. This time, a man picked up.

His voice was heavy with exhaustion, with a drowsy satisfaction that made my stomach turn. I knew exactly what he had just finished doing. My heart plummeted.

He let out a low chuckle. "Juliet’s asleep. Who’s this?"

My throat tightened. A long silence stretched between us before I finally forced out two words.

"Her bodyguard."

That seemed to wake him up. Amusement seeped into his voice, slow and deliberate.

"Oh, so you’re Juliet’s bodyguard? She talks about you a lot. Says you’re always meddling where you shouldn’t. Guess she was right."

For the first time, I realized how she spoke about me behind my back.

His smugness was unmistakable.

"Your lady spent the night here. Stop calling. I’ll personally bring her back tomorrow."

He dragged out the word personally, savoring it, before hanging up.

I clenched my jaw and called again. No answer.

The thought of her lying in another man’s arms sent a surge of fury through me. Without thinking, I hurled my phone to the ground. The screen shattered into a thousand pieces, just like the last shred of restraint I had left.

I stood at the entrance all night, hoping, praying, that Juliet would change her mind and come back.

But hope was a foolish thing.

Morning arrived and a familiar car pulled into the driveway.

I stared at the license plate, my mind struggling to process what I was seeing. Then, before I could react, Juliet was carried out in a bridal-style embrace.

Their gazes met, soft, intimate like newlyweds.

When they reached me, they both hesitated. The man lingered, studying me with quiet amusement.

I stepped forward, instinctively reaching for Juliet, but she turned away, dodging my touch.

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest. "It was her first time last night; she’s a little sore. I figured I’d bring her back myself. No need for a security guard’s help."

His tone was light, teasing, as if the entire situation was nothing more than a joke to him.

Juliet buried her face against his chest, looking fragile. Shy.