Chapter 6 A Sentence of a Thousand Lashes

Ethan stepped closer. His gaze was sharp, dark, as if ready to pounce on anyone who dared stand too near.

“Yes,” he said in a low, heavy voice. “I am Ethan Pandearthur Limson.” He stopped right in front of Emily. “Your husband.”

Emily swallowed hard. Fear crept upward, locking her throat.

“That’s impossible.” Her head shook weakly. “You’re not Ethan.”

Ethan grabbed Emily’s chin, forcing her face up so she had to look at him.

“Look at me carefully,” he said coldly, without emotion. “Don’t pretend to be stupid.”

Emily’s tears fell instantly. Her chest trembled violently. All the rumors, all the whispered fears, turned out to be real. The man before her was not just a name. He was real he was the king of death who had lived only in horror stories.

“Let me go!” Emily begged.

“Let you go?” Ethan repeated slowly, the corner of his lips lifting slightly without warmth. “Didn’t you come all this way willingly, even replacing your sister?”

Ethan’s face moved closer, his voice dropping, dangerous. “Now, your life and death are in my hands, Emily.”

Emily trembled. Her fingers could barely move as Ethan’s hand still gripped her cheek tightly, cold and merciless.

“You misunderstand,” she said shakily. “I came here because my stepmother ordered me. Have you forgotten that my mother sold me to you?”

“Sold you? Oh yes, I almost forgot.”

Ethan fell silent for a moment. Then his loud laughter burst out, filling the room. Cold laughter sharp, without the slightest trace of mercy, as if Emily’s confession was nothing more than a cheap joke.

“I never asked for a cheap woman like you,” he said while shaking his head slightly. His gaze lowered, full of contempt. “Do you think I’m a fool who’s easy to deceive?”

His eyes sharpened. “I’m not like your other victims out there the ones you sleep with, take their money from, and then leave.”

Emily shook her head quickly. “You know nothing about my life, Sir,” she denied softly. “I’m not that kind of woman.”

Ethan sneered faintly.

“In this world,” he said coldly, every word sounding like a verdict, “no one escapes my grasp.”

He leaned down slightly, his voice dropping lethally. “And the fate of your life is standing right in front of you.”

“What is my fault, Sir? Why do you hate me?” Emily asked.

“Still asking about your fault? You really are a cunning woman,” Ethan whispered.

Emily closed her eyes. Her tears fell uncontrollably, soaking her cheeks that were still trapped in the man’s grip.

Rudolf, who stood behind Ethan, could only lower his head in resignation. He knew his master too well once that anger rose, no one could stop it.

“Rudolf!” Ethan commanded coldly, without hesitation. “Drag this cheap whore to the pavilion.”

He paused briefly, then continued in a flat, deadly voice. “Give her punishment. One hundred lashes.”

“What?!” Emily gasped. Her body struggled instinctively, fear stealing all control.

“No, Sir Ethan, please spare me!” She cried, screaming in desperation. “I beg you, forgive me. I beg you, forgive me.”

Her cries echoed, but none of them shook the decision.

Ethan did not turn around. His face remained cold, as if Emily were nothing more than a shadow unworthy of consideration. In that place, no order could be defied, no voice could oppose Ethan Limson’s will.

Two of Ethan’s guards immediately stepped forward. Without giving her a chance, they grabbed Emily’s arms and dragged her out of the room.

“Sir, forgive me.” Emily struggled, tears pouring down. “I’m not guilty, I beg you, please spare me, Sir.”

But there was no answer.

“Ethan, I swear I will kill you!” Emily screamed.

Ethan walked to his bedroom door and closed it slowly, without looking back, without hesitation.

Click.

The door shut tightly, cutting off all pleas.

All that remained were Emily’s screams echoing down the corridor, freezing the residents of the house in fear. No one dared to move. No one dared to help.

In that house, mercy was not an option. And Ethan’s decisions were law absolute and unquestionable.

Emily’s body was dragged to the back pavilion. The whipping punishment was carried out, blood flowing down her back.

Smack! Smack!

“Mercy, stop!”

“Scream louder, Miss! The louder you scream, the more Mr. Ethan will laugh!” one of the servants said.

“Please, I beg you, stop!” Emily screamed.

“Stop? Relax, Miss, there are still fifty lashes left,” the servant replied.

“No, please let me go, I could die,” Emily said weakly.

But none of the servants answered. They continued whipping Emily’s body. No footsteps approached, no hands reached out to help. Her desperate screams slowly weakened, drowned in cruel silence until the hundred lashes finally ended.

Emily’s body collapsed onto the floor of her room, no longer able to move. Her breathing was ragged, her eyes closed, leaving only faint remnants of consciousness.

Rudolf stepped closer. His gaze lingered on the woman before him the woman he once thought might soften Ethan’s hardened heart.

But what he saw was the opposite. She did not destroy Ethan’s cruelty, instead, she made her master seem less than human.

“This is the punishment fitting for a criminal like you, Miss Emily,” Rudolf said.

“I’m evil?” Emily asked weakly. “You’re right, I am evil.”

Emily was left lying there on the cold floor. No blanket, no one to help treat her wounds. Only suffocating silence, while the door to the room was closed locked tight cutting her off from the outside world.

With the last of her strength, Emily tried to move her fingers. A small tremor, weak and barely noticeable.

Her chest rose and fell unevenly. Her vision blurred as darkness slowly crept in from the edges.

“Mom,” she whispered faintly. “Take Emily away.” The words slipped out with the last of her consciousness, and then everything sank into darkness.

In the main residence, Ethan continued raising his gun, firing bullets at empty targets ahead of him. His eyes remained sharp and focused, as if every shot was aimed at invisible prey no mercy, no compromise.

Bang … bang … bang …

The gunshots filled the room, echoing off the wide walls, pounding like a melody meant only for himself. A symphony of power and satisfaction that only Ethan could feel.

He smiled faintly, coldly. Every shot was a reminder the world bowed to him, and anyone who resisted would never escape.

Rudolf stepped closer, his steps heavy yet firm.

“Is the woman still alive?” Ethan asked coldly, sharply, without the slightest doubt.

“Yes, Sir,” Rudolf answered briefly.

Ethan nodded slowly, his eyes still staring straight ahead.

“Good. Lock her up for two days. No food, no water,” he said flatly, as if giving a trivial order, though his intent was far more terrifying.

“Yes, Sir!” Rudolf bowed, obedient without hesitation.

Ethan calmly placed his gun down, glanced around briefly, then left the place just like that his steps steady, satisfied, and without looking back.

“Emily, welcome to the hell of your death,” Ethan said softly.

He stared at his reflection in the mirror. Who would have thought behind that handsome face hid the most lethal man of all, a face that looked calm yet carried destruction within it.

“You chose the wrong opponent if you intended to play games with me,” he said quietly. “You should have stayed still, calm, and become Mrs. Limson.”

His hand clenched unconsciously, the veins tightening.

“Now,” he continued in a low voice that hardened, “I will never let you go. Until you die by my hand.”

His gaze froze again cold, empty as if those words were not a threat, but an official announcement of a fate already decided. Non negotiable. Irreversible.

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