The Stranger Who Slept with Me Is the Ice God

Addie POV:

"We stage an accident," Kendra said. Her voice, stripped of all its fake sweetness, was as sharp and cold as a shard of glass. "A tragic overdose. She gets confused, disoriented... and falls from the window. This is the 28th floor, after all."

My world went silent. A roaring vacuum sucked all the air from my lungs, all the blood from my head.

She wanted to kill me.

Any flicker of hope I had ignited was instantly extinguished, leaving behind nothing but a vast, frozen wasteland of despair.

I could already see the headlines. "Socialite Addie Sullivan Dies in Tragic Fall After Apparent Drug Binge."

No one would question it. My father, blinded by Kendra, would mourn his foolish, reckless daughter. The world would see a tragedy, not a murder.

I waited for Chayce's response. A tiny, insane part of me held out for him to refuse. He had loved me once. He must have.

The silence from the hallway stretched on. It was more chilling than immediate agreement. He was considering it. Weighing the pros and cons of my murder.

Every second was an eternity.

Finally, he spoke. His voice was dry, decisive. "Too risky. And it's letting her off too easy. A quick death is a gift. I'd rather she live in hell."

"Oh?" Kendra's interest was piqued.

"After we've destroyed her reputation," Chayce laid out his vision, his voice thick with venom, "I'll arrange for a little car accident. Nothing fatal. Just enough to put her in a wheelchair for the rest of her life. A cripple with a drug and sex scandal hanging over her head is no threat to anyone."

Tears streamed silently down my face, hot against my cold skin. The last, pathetic ember of my love for him died, leaving behind only the blackest ash. This was the man I had promised my life to.

"That's a brilliant idea," Kendra purred, her voice filled with admiration for his cruelty. "A living, broken Addie is so much more useful than a dead one. We can even play the part of her devoted caretakers."

I almost choked. The sheer audacity of their evil was breathtaking.

Their footsteps finally faded down the hall. They were satisfied with their perfect plan. They were gone.

The moment I was sure, a sob tore from my throat, raw and ragged. It was the sound of a life shattering.

Why did I love a monster? Why did I trust a snake?

Grief and fury washed over me in a tidal wave. But then, something else rose from the depths. Something stronger.

The will to live.

I would not die. I would not be crippled. I would live, and I would make them pay a thousand times over for what they did tonight.

That single thought was a jolt of pure power. I tried to move again, and this time, my body responded. It was slow, clumsy, but it was mine again.

I fought my way to the edge of the bed and rolled off, landing with a heavy thud on the plush carpet. The jolt of pain was clarifying.

I began to crawl.

Like a wounded animal, I dragged myself across the floor, inch by painful inch, toward the door. My only goal was to escape this room.

I finally reached it, my trembling fingers closing around the cold, brass handle. I turned it.

Locked.

It wouldn't budge. They had locked me in from the outside.

Despair crashed over me again. I collapsed against the door, the drug-fueled heat surging back, threatening to swallow my remaining sanity.

My eyes darted around the room, searching for anything, any tool, any weapon. My gaze landed on the room service cart left in the corner.

And on it, a small, gleaming fruit knife.

A spark.

I gathered what was left of my strength and began to crawl again. The cart was only a few feet away, but it felt like miles.

I grit my teeth, Kendra and Chayce's voices echoing in my head, their poison fueling my resolve.

Chayce Wheeler. Kendra Sullivan. The names were a curse on my tongue. If I survive this, I will drag you to hell myself.

Tears and sweat mingled on my face. In the silent tomb of that hotel room, I made a blood oath.