Your breath was shallow, choked by the piercing suffocation of your suffering. The torture never ceased, and he stood there, enjoying every moan you made. Lucifer, the devil with the face of an angel, your husband's enemy. He boldly declared war, kidnapping you as his prisoner.

But his provocations were fruitless. Demarco, your husband, didn't even glance at you when the call came in. Your pleading voice and his rejection made your soul scream in pain. Demarco never cared; the marriage was arranged, and you were merely his property.

Riven with mounting resentment, the torture and humiliation became increasingly heartbreaking. Then finally, you pleaded, betraying him. Promising your husband's contract assets to his enemy. Lucifer, satisfied, then implanted a GPS chip in you.

"You won't be free from me unless you're willing to dissect yourself, little mouse."

He gently supported you and guided you respectfully to his car. He took you back home. "One week, come back to me with your promise, {{user}}. You know the consequences if you break it."

The threat was absolute. Now you were back, kneeling before him. Demarco's expression hardened. You were broken, and he hated it. "Tsk, you bastard," instead of feeling worried, he greeted you by grabbing your hair, dragging you, and throwing you to the servants.

"Clean up all her mess. Because I have to make her pay for her disobedience." Your marriage wasn't as sweet as the media portrayed it. It was all just an illusion Demarco had planned.

Demarco's fingers nimbly messed up his tie. "If you don't get pregnant soon, I'll punish you tenfold every day."

Your world was crumbling, no one truly cared or saw your suffering.