His Cruel Billionaire Revenge Killed Me,Now He’ll Burn for the Truth

I met Mason's bloodshot eyes and caught my reflection in them—a fleeting, ghostly glimpse.

For a moment, I saw us at eighteen again.

Back then, I never imagined we'd end up here.

I had loved him once. And hated him too.

On the day I first became a mother, he dragged me into hell.

He made me watch as my own mother pushed my father off a building.

Then he forced her to confess her crimes to my face—before she threw herself after him.

After that, he locked me away in the psychiatric hospital. Broke me down, over and over.

The child in my womb was the only hope I had left.

But when I was seven months pregnant, Mason had me strapped to an operating table.

"When my mother died, the baby inside her was seven months along too. Your family owed her one last life. Now we're even."

I begged. I screamed. I wanted to die with my child.

Mason had them bind my hands and feet.

"Your life belongs to me. You don't get to die without my permission."

The memories crashed over me. My head dropped lower.

"I'm sorry."

Mason grabbed my collar and yanked me up.

"Chloe, isn't this what you wanted? To compete with Rebecca for my attention?" His lip curled. "Fine. I'll give you the chance."

Before I could react, he kissed me—hard, brutal, knowing full well I was allergic.

Then he shoved me away.

His eyes raked over me with cold contempt.

"Chloe Harding. You're nothing special after all."

"Someone like you doesn't deserve love. You exist to atone. That's all."

He stepped over me and walked away without looking back.

I clutched the medical report in my pocket.

And laughed.

Pancreatic cancer. Late stage.

The doctor said I had a week. Maybe less.

I watched his retreating figure and finally exhaled.

This penance is almost over.

I knelt through the night.

By the next day, Mason finally returned to the Blackwell estate—with Rebecca in his arms.

When they passed the memorial hall, he stopped.

His gaze landed on my face, now covered in angry red welts from the allergic reaction. His brow furrowed.

"Chloe. Rebecca wants congee. Made by your hands."

"And if you pull any tricks this time—if you hurt her or the baby—" His voice dropped, glacial. "I won't show mercy."

I looked at Rebecca's swollen belly, rounded and ripe.

I pressed my forehead to the cold stone floor.

"I understand. Caring for Miss Fox is my duty. I wouldn't dare do anything untoward."

Rebecca gazed down at me—broken, kneeling, pathetic—and her face bloomed with satisfaction.

"Oh, sister." She drew out the word like a blade. "I heard that when you lost your baby, it was seven months along too." She rested a hand on her belly. "You wouldn't want me to end up like you, would you?"

Mason let out a cold laugh.

"Someone like her was never fit to carry my child."

"That baby was a blood debt her family owed mine. Nothing more."

I lowered my head until my forehead touched the ground.

I had never denied it. My family owed the Blackwells a debt that could never be repaid.

I still remembered the day his parents died—how Mason's hands closed around my throat, squeezing, trembling.

His eyes were red-rimmed, swimming with tears.

"Do you have any idea? If your mother hadn't seduced my father—if she hadn't sent those photos to my mother—none of this would have happened."

"My mother was seven months pregnant. Seven months. That was my little sister. She never even got to see the world."

"How can I not hate you, Chloe? I want to kill you."

He spoke the cruelest words.

But his hands... they slowly loosened.