The Divorced Heiress’s Revenge

This time, the injection did not bring the searing pain that made life worse than death.

Yvonne's cracked lips quivered. She gazed at the man before her, her tears falling in heavy, silent streams.

Jace looked back at her just as deeply, an unspoken understanding passing between them. At this moment, words were unnecessary.

"Hugh... Thank you..." Her voice was barely more than a whisper, yet it struck Jace like a hammer to the chest.

When she called him Hugh this time, he did not correct her, nor did he resist. He simply accepted it.

Since the night Yvonne had been captured, he had suffocated under the weight of regret. Every day, he lived with the tormenting thought, 'If I hadn't blocked her path... If I'd let her go just a moment sooner... Would she have escaped Clarice's grasp? Would she have been spared this agony?'

"You should know... No one who enters this place ever leaves. Most do not even escape death." His voice was low, thick with something unreadable.

Then, in a rare and quiet defiance, hidden beyond the surveillance cameras, he reached out and wrapped his calloused fingers around her frail, bony hand. "So hold on. Just a little longer. Give me time—I will find a way."

Yvonne's heart clenched. A warmth, foreign yet comforting, spread through her chest. She closed her eyes, a silent acceptance, a fragile trust.

She had reached her breaking point long ago. More than once, she had thought of biting through her tongue to end it all. But Jace's words and his promise anchored her.

Even if he ultimately failed to save her, she would never hate him. Her life was worthless.

him back from the abyss

measured, deliberate rhythm of high heels striking

'Clarice.' Jace's expression darkened.

he signaled Yvonne to remain silent. Then, with swift

her pale, fragile skin was exposed beneath him. He dropped to one knee beside her bed, his towering frame shielding her

open

doorway, dark and imposing, her presence thick with suspicion. Behind her, two bodyguards stood like

when her informant reported that Jace had dismissed

her veins, but

mistake after mistake. Grant may have remained silent, but she knew deep down that his

red-handed-if she could prove his disloyalty and remove him—then she alone would be Grant's right hand.

before her struck

the hell are

ice, hovered mere inches from Yvonne's trembling neck.

so long, yet you still lack basic

out soft, shuddering sobs beneath him, as though

hesitated, her expression shifting from suspicion to disgust. "That filthy, used-up whore... You actually stomach touching her?

chin, his voice laced with mockery. "A man has his