Three Years of Humiliation, Finally Got Revenge

He invested it in his new project.

With that, he became the richest man in Newport’s social circle, with a limitless future.

He let me be tortured until I was barely hanging on.

That day, I cried every tear I’d ever had.

I looked up, and Lucas was already standing before me.

He stood against the light.

I couldn’t see his expression, but I saw the necklace around his neck—matching Sophia’s.

He lowered his head and said,

“Sophie, I won’t abandon you because of your wretchedness.”

“But remember this—you have no family to return to.”

“If you want to marry me, if you want to become Mrs. Lawrence, you have to learn to be obedient.”

Everyone said this was Lucas softening, showing goodwill.

He knew I was spoiled, knew my unbearable past.

Yet he was still willing to tolerate, accept, and forgive me.

That alone proved he loved me.

But that so‑called love

sounded like a threat.

If it were the old Wendy, she would’ve raged, fought back, made a scene to the bitter end.

But after being crushed again and again by fate,

I was afraid.

I realized my life was completely in Lucas’s hands.

My future, my happiness, and sorrow,

all decided by him.

So I did as he wanted.

I learned my lesson.

At meals, I pretended not to see the elegant Sophia sitting across from me.

I silently swallowed whatever they put on my plate.

Even when my stomach was already sick.

Even when my heart was lodged in my throat.

I didn’t dare show even a trace of irritation.

Because I was terrified—terrified of that abyss of uncertainty.

Compared to the leaves and filth I ate while held captive,

forcing down the food in front of me was nothing.

I tried my best to play the obedient, docile wife, burying all my pride and temper.

But there was one thing I couldn’t do.

I couldn’t accept intimacy with Lucas.

Every touch, every breath against my skin,

dragged me back to those hellish fifteen days.

Back to those kidnappers crawling over me.

I was terrified.

Terrified of remembering.

Terrified of having those barely healed wounds exposed again.

Whenever Lucas came near and touched me,

I would shake uncontrollably.

Then scream and push him away.

Lucas didn’t hit me as the kidnappers did.

He only looked at me coldly and said,

“Sophie, haven’t you had enough?”

I no longer had the right to be willful.

But I didn’t dare speak, didn’t dare meet his eyes.

I could only curl up in the corner, trembling.

My arms wrapped tightly around myself, clinging to the last shred of dignity I had left.

But the more I did this, the angrier Lucas became.

On my birthday night, he had been drinking.

He yanked me close, gripping my head and demanding, “Speak! Why won’t you speak?”