He Cursed Me To Death, But He Died For Me

The tension between us seemed to deepen by the minute. Anthony shoved me roughly onto the couch, his eyes burning with fury.

"Where's your man, Emilia? Can't he afford you? Why are you out here selling yourself?" he spat, each word laced with contempt.

My manager had left me alone with him, locking the door on his way out, desperate to seal the deal. Before I could explain, Anthony's towering figure loomed over me, cutting off my words. His lips crashed down on mine, hot and forceful, trailing downward as he crushed me beneath his weight.

I winced, trying to pull away, but he pinned my arms down, leaving me helpless. His touch ignited an unbearable ache everywhere he went.

"Anthony, stop! You're a monster!" I tried to shout, but the next moment, his mouth was back on mine, silencing me until my protest turned into a soft whimper.

When he finally pulled back, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, a twisted satisfaction gleaming in his eyes.

"Emilia, don't pretend to be some innocent little thing if you're out here selling yourself," he sneered, tossing a credit card onto the table. "You look like you need the cash. Be my mistress. Whenever I call, you'll show up. No questions asked."

Tears welled up in my eyes, the humiliation cutting deep. "Anthony, why do you have to degrade me like this? You're engaged. You've got a beautiful fiancée. Why can't you just leave me alone?"

His laugh was cold and unfeeling. "Because I want to keep you close, Emilia. I want to watch you suffer."

He hadn't forgiven me for leaving him all those years ago. And now, he was determined to make me pay.

Shame washed over me as I pulled my clothes back together, my dignity shattered. "I won't be your mistress, and I don't need your money."

His face twisted with rage. He grabbed my neck, his grip tightening as if he wanted to choke the life out of me.

"You need money, don't you? If you're going to sleep with men, it might as well be me. It's better to get paid by someone you know, right?"

I struggled to breathe, a metallic taste rising in my throat. "I've got other clients, Anthony. I don't need you."

His hand shot out, striking me hard across the face, the blow ringing in my ears. My vision blurred as the pain spread through my body.

He gripped my wrist so hard it felt like it might snap. "Emilia, why are you doing this to yourself? If you need money, just ask me. I'll give you whatever you need."

I laughed bitterly, feeling the weight of every word. "How am I supposed to ask you for money, Anthony? As your ex-girlfriend? Or as some prostitute selling herself?"

The door creaked open just then, and Bella walked in, oblivious to the tension that hung thick in the air. Her pristine white dress fluttered as she moved, her innocent smile making her look so pure, so untouched.

"Emilia, right? Anthony's told me about you," she said sweetly, extending her hand. "I'm Bella, Anthony's fiancée. It's nice to meet you."

I quickly tried to hide the red marks on my neck, the disheveled state of my clothes making it impossible to conceal what had happened.

Anthony casually draped his jacket over my shoulders, his voice cold as ice. "Get out of here. You're embarrassing yourself. You'll only dirty Bella's sight."

Bella stood there like a delicate flower, unaware of the storm that had just raged through the room. I pulled the jacket tighter around me, stumbling out of the room in shame.

Outside, my best friend Lydia was waiting for me, frustration written all over her face. "Why didn't you explain everything to him?"

Leaning against the streetlamp, I struggled to keep the nausea from rising, the alcohol burning in my stomach. The cold wind stung my eyes. "He's got a fiancée now. They look perfect together."

"Wait—he's engaged?" Lydia asked in disbelief.

I blinked back the tears. "Nobody waits forever, Lydia."

"You came back to Florida to fix this misunderstanding," Lydia said gently. "You've worked so hard for this. Don't give up now."

I smiled bitterly. "He's moved on. I shouldn't disrupt his life anymore."

Some things are better left unsaid. Saying them out loud only adds to the pain. It's easier to keep them locked away, buried deep.

My thoughts drifted back to that night when I broke up with him. It had been raining hard, the drops piercing through me like a thousand needles.

The news had crushed him, and his heart condition flared up. He started coughing up blood right there in front of me.

On the way to the hospital, one of his friends called me, his voice shaking with anger.

"Anthony was the best shot we had. He was going to make it big. Why couldn't you wait for him?

"He gave up so much for you, even cutting ties with his father. He's proud. But for you, he broke himself, willing to eat dirt just to be with you.

"If anything happens to him, I'll make sure you regret this for the rest of your life."

His words echoed in my head as I watched Anthony being rushed into surgery. The cold light from the operating room cut through the darkness as I crumbled to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.

Now, standing on the sidewalk, my face was streaked with tears again, the memories overwhelming me.

Two months ago, everything started to fall apart. I'd been working late on a project when I started bleeding uncontrollably. The hospital's test results hit me like a freight train.

The diagnosis: uterine cancer. Late stage.

I stared blankly at the report, standing at the hospital window, not knowing what to do or where to go. There was only one thought running through my mind: I wanted to see him.

I wanted to see Anthony one last time before I died. So, I asked my boss to transfer me to the branch office, hoping for a chance to run into him again.

I should've known better. On my first day, I got dragged into a client dinner, and of course, the client was Anthony.

Years of struggling to survive, trying to claw my way out of the mud, and this was how we met again—me being tossed around by a manager willing to sell me for a deal.

Anthony stood beside me now, his eyes unreadable as he looked down at me.

"Where are you going? I'll give you a ride," he offered, his voice laced with sarcasm.

I refused quickly. "I'll call a cab."

He smirked. "You must be desperate for cash. Any guy willing to pay is good enough for you, huh?"

The icy air filled my lungs as I choked on the words. My throat burned, and I coughed violently, but I still managed to hold my head high. "I may not make my money the way you think I should, but at least I'm not ashamed of myself."

I turned to leave, but he grabbed my wrist again, pulling me into his chest.

"Trying to draw a line between us, only to run back into my arms? What kind of game are you playing?"

His eyes bore into mine, searching for something.

"Why did you follow me out here, Anthony? What do you really want?"

He toyed with the engagement ring on his finger, his expression hard. "Bella can't have children. Her health's too fragile for it.

"Give me a child, and I'll give you half a million dollars."

He didn't know that when we broke up, I was already pregnant. He already had a daughter. Her name was Claire, and she looked exactly like him.

I met his gaze, my voice firm. "I won't be your mistress, and I sure as hell won't give you a child."

He smiled darkly. "If you don't close this deal, you'll be fired tomorrow."

The sound of my slap echoed in the cold night air.

"You're disgusting."

He grabbed me by the waist, his eyes hazy, and his voice dropped to a low, commanding tone. "Kiss me, Emilia."

And as my lips met his, I felt myself fall into the abyss.