My Husband Begged for My Love after Destroying Me

I didn’t argue. Didn’t flinch. I already knew how this went.

I walked away. Hands clenched. Nails digging deep. Because now my plan was ruined.

I was supposed to disappear before the wedding.

Everything was ready. Clean IDs. Offshore account. Exit route.

But I couldn’t leave Aziel behind. Not now. Not when Margaret wanted him in that ceremony. Not when Hakeem was looking at her like she was part of some future he’d built with the woman who ruined my life.

So that night, I picked up the burner phone I kept under the loose floorboard.

Dialed the number.

The line clicked after one ring.

“It’s me,” I whispered. “I need the exit plan changed. I’m not leaving alone.”

“Understood, ma’am,” the voice replied. “We’ll move everything.”

This time, I wasn’t running.

This time, I was taking back what was mine.“The plan changed,” I whispered into the burner phone. My voice was tight. Quiet. “Aziel’s gonna be the ring bearer. I can’t leave without him.”

I paused, fingers shaking slightly. “And there’s one more problem. Eight years ago, after I faked my death... Hakeem had a tracker put inside me. He never told me where, just said it’s somewhere I wouldn’t be able to reach. He knew I’d try to run again.”

There was a long silence on the other end before the response came.

“No problem, ma’am. I’ll handle everything on our side. But you need to get that tracker out. It’s the only way this works.”

I exhaled slowly. Finally, a bit of relief. “Alright. I’ll wait for your signal—”

“Harmony.”

His voice hit me like a gunshot. I turned. Hakeem stood by the door, watching me. Eyes sharp. Face unreadable.

I hung up immediately, slipped the phone behind me, heart thudding against my ribs.

He stepped closer, gaze locked on me like a hunter.

“Who the hell you waitin’ on, huh?” he asked, voice quiet but full of warning.

I didn’t get the chance to answer. His hand was on my throat, tight. Not enough to choke me yet, but the message was clear. I wasn’t the one in control here.

“You trying to run again?” he muttered, his mouth too close. “What is it this time? Another man? Or you just gonna fake your own damn death again and think I’ll let it slide twice?”

I gasped, “I told you—I was waiting for Aziel. He doesn’t know where the ceremony is. He’s just a kid.”

His grip loosened, but his eyes didn’t soften.

Then, without a word, he dragged me in.

His mouth crushed against mine, hard and cruel. There was no tenderness. No care.

His hands pulled me down, shoved me to the floor. My skirt ripped as he pushed in. Rough. Ruthless. No warning. No mercy.

I bit my lip to keep from making a sound. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

By the time it was over, I lay there on the cold marble floor. Breathing in silence. Still.

He leaned over, brushed a piece of hair off my face, and pressed a kiss to my temple like he hadn't just wrecked me.

“Harmony,” he murmured, voice calm now. “Don’t betray me again. You still got my tracker inside you. Don’t forget it.”

His thumb brushed against the ring on my finger.

The one he gave me when he promised forever.

“The Eternal Bond collection,” he said, like it was some goddamn joke. “Margaret wants it on the wedding day. Give it to her.”

My vision blurred. The back of my throat burned.

“That ring was ours,” I said. “It meant something.”

He smiled like I was being dramatic. “It’s a piece of metal. I could get you ten more if that’s what you want. Don’t start acting like a child now.”

Of course. Just a ring. Just another lie.

I took it off slowly. My fingers were shaking, but I didn’t let it show. I dropped it into his hand. He didn’t even look at it.

Once he was gone, I let myself breathe. Then I got up and started moving.

The tracker. The money. The plan. I had to keep going. I had to stay ahead.

I’d already started selling everything he ever gave me. Jewelry. Cars. The yacht. All of it was converted into clean money, stashed in offshore accounts under new names.

I still had Aziel to protect. He was the only reason I hadn’t burned this entire place to the ground already.

---

That night, I dragged a steel barrel into the back of the estate. Photos. Gifts. The leather jackets he had made for us with our initials stitched inside. The love notes. Hundreds of them.

Then came the black journal.

His obsession in print.

He wrote down everything about me. What time I woke up. What tea I drank. The way I tied my hair when I was stressed. What kind of music calmed me down after nightmares. He knew every part of me.

He loved me like a project. Like a blueprint. Not a person. I tossed the journal in and lit a match.

I watched the fire grow.

It swallowed everything.

The letters. The fabric. The photos. His twisted version of love. I stood there in the dark, smoke curling into the night air, heat brushing against my face.

One tear fell. Just one.

It hit the ashes at my feet.

I didn’t cry again.

The fire died down fast. No trace left.

Just smoke. Just silence. I looked at the sky and whispered, “Goodbye, Hakeem.”

And this time, I meant it.