Page 88 of Crushed Vow
“This divorce is permanent.”
I let the words hang, cold and cruel.
“I’m too damaged to belong to anyone,” I continued. “And if I ever decide to start over—ever—it won’t be with you.”
Slowly, I pushed myself up from the floor, limbs shaking, knees aching.
Every movement felt like a wound reopening. I stood, tired and hollow, as if each word had carved me from the inside out.
“I hate you now. And I’ll hate you forever. After today—after you stood there, smoking, leaning against a pillar while those boys stripped me of every last ounce of dignity—I will never forgive you. Not for today. And never for the past.”
I pressed my palm to my chest, as if trying to hold my heart together.
“I swear it, Cassian,” I whispered. “On the ashes of my mother.”
“Charlotte—please... Charlotte!”
His voice cracked, trailing behind me like a ghost trying to claw its way back into my chest. But I refused to turn around. I refused to let it touch me.
I didn’t want to hear him.
Not anymore. Not ever again.
He was a bastard. A monster. A liar I once called home.
And I hated him—with the kind of passion that scorched.
I stumbled toward the kitchen like a woman possessed. My legs were numb. My hands shaking. I was still naked except for the useless black panty riding low on my hips. My skin felt cold. My soul was colder.
I opened the drawer. The knife glinted at me like an old friend.
I picked it up.
Pressed it to my stomach.
Just a little.
God.
The pain shot through me, a sting sharp enough to remind me I was still alive. But I didn’t want to be.
Not like this.
I turned the knife toward my neck, my hand trembling so hard it barely stayed steady.
But no.
It would be too slow and painful.
I could already feel it—the way the blade would tear through skin, the warm rush, the agony that would follow. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t watch myself bleed out. Not like that.
I staggered back, choking on the thickness in my throat.
Then—
BANG.
A violent thud slammed into the door. Again. Again. Louder each time.
