When Love Cuts Deep, Loneliness Bleeds

Having said that, Clinton shot Martin a look. Soon, several bodyguards in black came up behind me, grabbing my shoulders and forcing me down onto my knees.

Landon looked me over, his gaze full of lust. Then, he lifted my chin and said, "So, it's you. Five years ago, I told you I'd sign that contract if you spent one night with me. But you'd rather die than agree. Now, look at you—on your knees before me."

Five years ago, when Clinton's company was just starting out, I went to Landon to discuss a potential partnership. Over dinner, he got handsy.

As soon as Clinton heard about it, he burst into the private room, grabbed a wine bottle, and hurled it at Landon.

"I'm telling you right now—Gabriella is my woman! No one touches her! I don't care if I have to give up the company—I'll never let her suffer even a shred of humiliation!" he had yelled.

But now, he had me pinned to the floor, forcing me to do Landon's bidding for Roxanne's sake.

At that moment, Roxanne shot Landon a knowing glance, then turned to Clinton with feigned concern.

"Clinton, Mr. Porter is one of our biggest clients. I doubt a simple apology will do. He seems to fancy Gabriella. She's not marrying Mr. Sterling until tomorrow, so why not let her spend the night with him to smooth things over?"

A flicker of hesitation crossed Clinton's eyes, but after a moment of her coaxing, he nodded. "Gabriella, it's just one night. Do it for the company. Once Mr. Porter cools off, I'll make it up to you."

A bitter smile tugged at my lips. I couldn't believe how completely he had let me down.

In the next instant, I broke free from the bodyguards' grip. I grabbed a glass of wine and threw it at their faces, then another, and another.

"Don't even think about it, Clinton!"

Ignoring the furious shouts behind me, I turned and stormed out of the venue.

…

By then, the Sterling family had already sent over wedding gifts worth millions of dollars.

My lips curved into a wry smile as I stared at the boxes of glittering jewelry. Maybe Mr. Sterling wasn't such a bad man, after all.

…

The next morning, I slipped into my wedding gown and waited for the Sterlings to arrive. But before them, Clinton and Roxanne showed up first.

Without missing a beat, the bodyguards behind him dragged me into the bathroom and started ripping my wedding gown.

"What the hell are you doing, Clinton? I'm about to get married!"

Roxanne clapped her hands, and a doctor stepped in. With a sweet smile, she said, "Gabby, Clint's only thinking of what's best for you. He thought it'd be better if you got your tubes tied before marrying into the Sterling family.

"It's one thing that you're no longer pure, but you can't come back here with another man's child, can you?"

The second her words settled, the bodyguards yanked up my dress.

I was shaking all over as I shouted, "Clinton! Make them stop! How dare you lay a hand on me? Aren't you afraid the Sterlings will make you pay?"

Yet, he stood there with his arm around Roxanne's waist.

"It'll be over in a few minutes. Just bear with it," he replied coldly. "Gabriella, when you come back, you'll still belong to me. But I won't let you bring another man's child into my life."

With that, he addressed the man, "Doctor, go ahead."

Clinton's words hit me like a bucket of ice water, chilling me to the bone. He knew my only wish was to have a child with the man I loved. And still, he crushed it without a second thought.

The doctor stepped into the bathroom, pulled down his mask, and reached for me with a twisted grin.

To my horror, he wasn't a doctor at all. It was Landon!

"Let me out, Clinton! Roxanne's played you! He's not a doctor—"

Before I could finish, Roxanne looked at me with a triumphant smile. "Enjoy yourself."

Then, she closed the door behind her.

Tears streamed down my face, and I trembled from the pain.

…

20 minutes later, I lay on the floor like a crumpled ball of paper, tossed aside without care.

Clinton yanked me to my feet, impatience written all over his face. "It was just a minor procedure. Stop crying! You've gotten way too dramatic lately. The Sterlings are here. Get downstairs."

Outside, the Sterling family's procession had arrived.

A man stepped slowly out of the lead limousine. But as soon as he saw the state I was in, his expression turned grim.

"Clinton Whitfield! What have you done to Gabriella?" he roared.

Clinton froze at the familiar voice. A moment later, his head snapped up.

When he saw who it was, he went pale, too shocked to speak. "H-How is it you?"