Chapter 108
Emily Windsor's POV
A scream tore from my throat, raw and ragged.
The last thread of my sanity snapped. Rage and despair erupted like a volcano, consuming everything in their path.
I lunged for the silver fork on the table. Like a cornered animal, I hurled myself at him with every ounce of strength I possessed, aiming straight for that smiling face.
Shock flickered across Lawrence's eyes—he clearly hadn't expected me to lose it so completely.
His hand shot up instinctively to block.
The fork didn't pierce his eye, but it plunged deep into the back of his raised hand instead.
All four tines sank to the base. Blood spurted instantly.
"Mr. Lowe!"
His bodyguards surged forward, pinning my arms behind me with crushing force. My shoulders screamed in protest as they slammed me to my knees on the cold marble floor.
But I didn't stop. I kept my bloodshot eyes fixed on him, crimson tears streaming down my face as I spat out a hoarse curse: "Lawrence! You sick bastard! You monster! I'll haunt you even in death! I'll kill you! I swear I'll kill you!"
Lawrence examined the fork buried in his hand, blood pooling around the metal, then turned his gaze to me—wild, broken, magnificent in my fury. Instead of pain, his face split into a smile of twisted, euphoric cruelty.
"Everyone out," he ordered softly.
The family physician rushed in, carefully extracting the fork, cleaning and bandaging the wound. Throughout the entire process, Lawrence didn't so much as flinch. Those serpentine eyes never left me, binding me like chains.
"Mr. Lowe, this bitch has lost her mind. Let me break her hands for daring to touch you," one of the guards snarled.
"No need." Lawrence waved them off dismissively, gesturing for the doctor and guards to leave. The vast dining room emptied until only the two of us remained.
He approached me, slowly crouching down. With his uninjured hand, he gripped my chin roughly, forcing my head up.
"Emily, you're absolutely beautiful like this." He studied the tears and hatred etched across my face as though admiring a priceless work of art. "Far more captivating than when you were pretending to play along."
I jerked my head away violently, refusing to meet his gaze.
He rose to his feet, towering over me. His voice dripped with sickening tenderness: "Take her back to her room. No one goes in without my permission."
I was dragged back to that gilded cage.
I stood frozen like a puppet with its strings cut, staring blankly at the room overflowing with luxury goods. These designer dresses, these glittering jewels—they all looked like monuments to mockery now.
It was my fault.
My arrogance, my stupidity—I'd walked straight into Lawrence's trap. And I'd personally shoved Luke into the abyss.
I threw myself at the vanity, sweeping everything—cosmetics, jewelry, all of it—crashing to the floor.
I tore open the closet, yanking out the haute couture gowns he'd bought for me, ripping them apart with savage fury until my nails split and my fingers bled.
But it wasn't enough.
Physical pain couldn't touch the gaping wound in my heart.
I collapsed amidst the wreckage, pulling my knees to my chest like a child abandoned by the world, and finally let myself sob. Hot tears blurred my vision as Luke's final moments replayed endlessly in my mind—his body falling in the flames, his lips forming those silent words.
Live.
Luke... I'm sorry. I don't think I can.
I shut down completely.
No food. No water. No words.
I curled up in the corner, eyes open but unseeing, watching the sun rise and set through the window as my life force drained away with each passing hour.
I don't know how much time passed before the door exploded inward with a violent kick.
Lawrence stood in the doorway, several anxious guards behind him.
He surveyed the destruction, then his gaze landed on me—skeletal, filthy, barely human—huddled in the corner. His brow furrowed sharply.
He dismissed the guards with a wave and walked toward me slowly. His polished leather shoes crunched over the shredded fabric of the gowns I'd destroyed.
He stopped in front of me, his shadow swallowing me whole.
"Starving yourself to death over a corpse—is it really worth it?" His voice was low, colored with something I couldn't quite identify.
I didn't respond. Didn't even bother moving my eyes.
My silence seemed to infuriate him. He dropped to his knees, gripping my shoulders and forcing me to look at him.
"Emily, look at me!" he roared. "Tell me—what the hell is so special about Luke? What does he have that I don't? We're from the same world, we play the same games—so why? Why do you act like you're under some goddamn spell, like he's the only man who exists?"
His eyes blazed not just with possessiveness, but with something deeper—a jealousy so consuming it threatened to devour him whole.
He was jealous of Luke.
Jealous of a man who, even imprisoned and possibly dead, could inspire this kind of pure, reckless devotion.
I looked at his face, twisted with envy, and suddenly found it unbearably funny. I summoned the last shred of my strength and gave him a weak, contemptuous smile.
"The same world?" My voice came out like sandpaper scraping stone. "Lawrence, you're wrong."
"Luke might be ruthless, but he has principles. A moral compass." I locked eyes with him, enunciating each word with crystalline clarity. "You? You're just a pathetic puppet dancing on strings of desire. A destroyer who doesn't even understand what love is. You're a joke."
His smile froze. The playful cruelty in those beautiful eyes burned away in an instant, replaced by a fury so volcanic it could incinerate worlds.
In the next heartbeat, he lunged. His hand clamped around my throat like a vise.
"Say that again," he snarled, hauling me up and slamming me against the wall. Each word dripped with venom. "I dare you."
Suffocation crashed over me. My lungs screamed for air. I could only manage broken, choking sounds as he crushed my windpipe.
I stared up at his face, contorted with rage, and felt no fear. Only the manic satisfaction of mutual destruction.
"I swear," he hissed into my ear, his breath hot but colder than ice, "I will find Luke. I will break every bone in his body. I will make him kneel before you like a dog and watch while you writhe beneath me."
Shame and hatred exploded in the charred remains of my heart like twin infernos.