Chapter 4
Her voice came out hoarse and trembling. “Declan, can’t you see what I’ve become?”
She raised her arm–covered in swollen welts, barely a patch of intact skin left. Deep gashes ran
down her forearm, gruesome and raw.
But after a moment of silence, Declan still steeled his heart. “Vivienne hasn’t slept all day. That bracelet needs to be finished tonight.”
“What if I say no?” Sloane’s eyes were rimmed red, but there were no tears left. “Will you lock me
up again and let those damn bugs chew me alive?”
Declan couldn’t bring himself to meet her eyes. He shut his own briefly, his voice low with
exhaustion.
“Sloane… just hold on a bit longer. Once Vivienne’s fully recovered–once I’ve repaid her for saving
my life–things between us will go back to the way they were.”
He said it like a promise. Then he placed several thick thorn–covered branches on the bedside table. His tone cooled. “Remember, if you won’t do it, the guards will. That bracelet? They say it works
best when the thorns draw real blood.”
The guest room door slammed shut behind him.
Two guards stood silently at the edge of the room. “Ma’am, Mr. Hawthorne gave clear instructions. You’re to pull out every thorn with your own hands. And sand each bead yourself–start to finish.”
That night, they dragged Sloane out of bed. She didn’t sleep a second.
Her fingertips were torn open, red and raw from plucking thorns. The sandpaper peeled her skin until her hands were nothing but cracked, bleeding wrecks. Every breath she took burned like fire.
By dawn, Vivienne’s voice drifted in from the master bedroom–light, sweet, and smug. “Declan, this bracelet really works. The dizziness is gone the moment I put it on.”
Declan chuckled gently. “That’s good. Get some rest. I’ll stay with you.”
In the guest room, Sloane curled into herself on the bed, her hands trembling and torn, blood dripping onto the sheets. She couldn’t stop the stinging in her eyes. She almost laughed.
There had been a time when a rose thorn prick on her finger would send Declan into a panic. He’d apologize for hours. Now, he could take a bracelet stained with her blood and give it to another
Chapter 4
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woman–with a smile.
Declan Hawthorne, you really think things could go back to the way they were?
How could they?
The love she once had for him… was gone.
The next day, Vivienne–well–rested thanks to her new protection bracelet–dragged Declan out for a relaxing trip.
Sloane only learned about it from Vivienne’s daily posts. They were in Greece, watching the sunset.
The photo showed Santorini’s iconic white walls glowing orange in the light. Vivienne’s hand was locked in Declan’s, and the caption read: Ten years of loving you. I finally got what I wanted.
Sloane stared at the picture. Her heart didn’t hurt anymore. Just… empty. Like a breeze was blowing right through her chest.
She quietly slipped the ring off her finger. Then she went to the garden. The bellflowers–once covering the whole flowerbed–she yanked them out by the roots, one by one. Chopped them up.
Threw them away.
Afterward, she opened her laptop, logged into that cursed account flooded with hate comments, and scheduled a post to go live in one month. It read: By the time you’re reading this letter, I’ll
probably be gone…
She had spent a long, long time writing that planned “farewell letter.” And just as she typed the final period, the sound of a car stopping echoed through the yard. Declan hurried into the villa.
“Why did you destroy the bellflowers, Sloane? I thought you loved them. I planted them for you
myself.”
There was something off about his face–pale, almost shaken. A small streak of blood had seeped through his sleeve.
Sloane gave him a calm glance, said nothing, and shut the laptop with a sharp snap. “The roots
were rotten. Might as well plant something else.”
At the mention of “something else,” Declan seemed to relax, just a little. “Alright. I’ll plant you
something new.‘
Chapter 4
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