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Dead to Please Him Novel Cover

Dead to Please Him

In Dead to Please Him, a domestic accident triggers a billionaire’s lethal cruelty. After her sister falls ill from her cooking, the protagonist is forced by her husband to ingest the same allergen. Locked away without medical aid, she suffers a slow, agonizing death alone. Three days later, Mr. Henderson returns with a cold offer of forgiveness, unaware that his wife has already perished. This dark romance novel explores the horrific end of a marriage and a life turned to ashes.
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Chapter 1

After my younger sister suffered an allergic reaction from eating the food I cooked, my husband flew into a rage. He grabbed a whole crate of red wine from the house, pinned me down, and forced it into my mouth.

"You should feel Rosie's pain too!"

Soon, red rashes spread across my body, and my throat began to swell.

On the brink of death, I begged him to call an ambulance, but he locked me in the room instead.

"Take your time and enjoy it. Only when you suffer enough will you stop hurting others."

In despair, I felt my throat closing, and my skin itching unbearably as if pierced by needles. I scratched my skin until there wasn't a single patch of unbroken skin left.

Three days later, he finally decided to show mercy and make it up to me with a candlelit dinner.

"I bet you have learned your lesson. As long as you behave from now on, you'll still be Mrs. Henderson."

However, he would never see me again. By then, my body had already turned to ashes.

My Punishment

Blake Henderson idly spun his phone in his hand, the shifting glow from the screen flickering across his handsome face.

It had been three days, and I still had not called him once. In the past, I used to cling to him every second I could.

"I guess she finally learned her lesson." Blake chuckled softly. Melinda's tear-streaked face flashed through his mind, only to be quickly replaced by annoyance.

Just then, his phone rang.

Blake picked it up quickly and said, "Melinda, you—"

"Mr. Henderson, Mrs. Henderson's room hasn't been cleaned for the past two days. The smell is getting quite strong."

It was the butler.

"What trick is she playing now?" A trace of disgust flashed in Blake's eyes. "Is she trying to force me to go back just like this? Dream on."

Hearing his words, the butler hesitated for a moment before saying, "Mrs. Henderson may already—"

Before he could finish, Blake cut him off. "Leave her alone. Let her fend for herself."

Then, he hung up the call.

Blake frowned and thought about my pale face, tearful and pleading.

"Blake, what are you thinking about?" Rosie, who was nestled in his arms, asked in a soft voice.

Hearing Rosie's voice, Blake snapped back to reality. He gently stroked her hair and said, "Nothing. I just thought of something unpleasant."

"Did my sister upset you again?" Rosie grabbed his hand and looked at him with concern.

"I didn't want to punish her. Please don't be mad at her anymore, even though she treated me…" As Rosie spoke, her voice trailed off, and her eyes reddened.

Seeing her reaction, Blake pulled her into his arms and comforted her. "It's okay, baby. You don't need to speak up for her. She's only trying to get my attention. I won't fall for it again. Don't worry. I won't let her hurt you anymore."

"But… but…" A faint glint of satisfaction flickered in Rosie's eyes, so brief it was almost impossible to catch.

Watching their display of affection, I laughed out of anger, but no one heard it. I was already dead.

The moment I stopped breathing, I felt myself drift up above the room. Looking down at the body on the floor, I knew it was me, yet it also felt strangely unfamiliar.

I saw my face filled with agony, and my body was a bloodied mess with eyes wide open in terror.

What was most ridiculous was that even at the moment of my death, I had still hoped Blake would remember the good in me and come save me.

Yet, at that very moment, Blake was at the hospital with Rosie, gently comforting her as she received an IV drip.

"Blake, will Melinda be okay?" Rosie's voice sounded as sweet as honey, yet it made me sick.

"Relax, she won't die. She's so afraid of death, so what's a little bit of an allergy going to do to her?" Blake replied casually.

Hearing that, I froze, and a sharp ache spread through my heart.

Rosie had eaten a little peanut, and he had rushed her to the hospital in a panic.

On the other hand, I had been forced to drink an entire crate of red wine, yet he dragged me into a room and locked me inside.

I was afraid of dying, so that was why I endured the burning pain of alcohol and struggled desperately to stay alive.

After Blake left the room, I dragged myself forward with great difficulty, leaving a clear trail behind me.

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