Chapter 157

Serena's POV

The drug was making it harder to think clearly, but desperation sharpened my focus. "If you cross this line, Ian, you'll regret it forever." I forced steel into my voice despite the growing heat in my veins. "Lucas will kill you."

His laugh was hollow, tinged with madness. "Lucas? Your precious Lucas Harrington?" He leaned closer, his breath hot against my face. "He has a wife, Serena. You're just his mistress. Do you really think he'd risk murder for you?"

Each word struck like a physical blow. The truth was, I knew better than anyone what Lucas would do to anyone who harmed me. But Ian was beyond reason now, beyond threats or logic.

The room seemed to pulse around me, the effects of the drug intensifying. I dug my nails into my palms, fighting to stay focused. My skin felt too tight, too sensitive, every nerve ending screaming for relief.

"You don't look so defiant now," Ian observed, satisfaction dripping from his words. He reached for the restraints, and I tensed. "Let's make you more... comfortable."

As he worked at the knots, memories I'd tried to bury clawed their way to the surface. Another time, another place, when I'd begged to be released. The shame and helplessness threatened to overwhelm me, but I forced them back.

"Let me go," I managed, hating the tremor in my voice. "I'll cooperate with Whitmore Corp. We can still fix this."

"You expect me to believe you?" His fingers paused on the rope. "After everything?"

"I always keep my word." I pressed my thigh hard enough to bruise, using the pain to fight the drug's effects. "You know that about me."

The last restraint fell away, and for a moment, hope flared. Then his grip closed around my wrist like iron. "Nice try."

I moved anyway, throwing myself toward the edge of the bed. My legs were unsteady, but adrenaline gave me strength. I made it three steps before the room tilted sickeningly.

The door seemed miles away, stretching and warping in my drug-addled vision. I stumbled forward, knowing it was futile but unable to stop trying. My fingers had just brushed the handle when Ian's arms wrapped around me from behind.

"Did you really think I'd make it that easy?" His voice was almost gentle as he dragged me back. "No one will find you here. This place..." He paused, and I could hear the smirk in his voice. "Well, Nina and I spent many pleasant afternoons here. It's completely private. Soundproof. Secure."

The revelation hit like ice water. I went limp in his grip, tears sliding down my cheeks as the last hope of rescue dimmed.

He threw me back onto the bed, the impact jarring through my bones. "Now," he said, reaching for his phone again. "Where were we?"

I closed my eyes, unable to bear the triumph in his face.

Ian's hands clamped onto my clothes, tearing at the fabric. The sound, so sharp and brutal, echoed the tearing of my sanity. A cold rush of air made my exposed skin crawl with dread. I tried to push him away, but my limbs were limp, powerless against his strength.

I felt his weight pressing down, crushing me, and tried to evade his grasp, but his grip was unyielding. His mouth, a brutal, demanding force, crashed down on my cheeks, my neck, his teeth and stubble scraping at my skin. Each kiss was an act of invasion, not affection, filling me with disgust and fear. He became a predator, claiming me as his territory.

His kisses weren't gentle explorations, but savage assaults. He sucked, he bit, as if devouring me. His breath, hot and rapid, reeked of liquor and something sickeningly excited. He was plundering, leaving me no space to breathe.

I fought, desperate to escape, but my nails scraped against his arms, useless against his force. I tried to turn my head, but his hands held it captive. I whimpered, my attempts at a shout reduced to broken sounds, my chest heaving, my breath ragged.

I tried to cling to consciousness, to resist, but the drugs had sapped my strength, my mind was swimming in a fog. I felt adrift, at his mercy, drowning in his control. Anger, fear, and despair swirled inside me. I couldn't accept that I was about to be degraded this way.

Tears streamed down my face. Some people's destinies seem forever shrouded in darkness.

Losing my mother as a child, watching my father marry another woman, gaining a stepsister who became my tormentor - with everyone in the family taking her side. Despite my academic excellence and obvious talent, that same stepsister framed me for an out-of-wedlock pregnancy that scandalized Manhattan's elite. I was expelled from my prestigious university, disowned by my father, left to wander foreign streets, desperately fighting to survive.

I thought I'd found true love once - a man I gave everything to, only to discover him sleeping with my stepsister behind my back.

Then I believed I'd found love again, finally gathering the courage to give my heart another chance. But it was all just another cruel deception.

Yet through it all, I kept fighting, kept pushing forward. Life is too precious a gift to waste. I couldn't bear to disappoint my mother's dying wish: "Even when I'm gone, carry my love with you. Live well, live happily."

Whenever life's burdens become too heavy to bear, I remember those words. They give me the strength to grit my teeth and endure.

I would survive this too. It was just another replay of that nightmare from when I was eighteen. Just another round of fate's cruelty.

Perhaps... perhaps with enough repetition, you simply become numb to the pain.