Chapter 3

The basement was filled with the smell of mold and dry iron.

Serena lay curled up on the cold metal floor of the dog cage. The oversized cage, once meant for Vincent's prized Tibetan Mastiff, now imprisoned his wife.

She was stripped bare, wearing only the remnants of a torn shirt. Dried blood caked her inner thighs, forming rough, dark patches that clung painfully to her skin. Every slight movement made the crusted blood tug at her flesh, a sharp reminder of the life that had been ripped away just hours before.

The heavy metal door of the basement creaked open. A blinding beam of light cut through the darkness, leaving her unable to open her eyes.

Vincent walked in, dressed in a spotless charcoal-gray suit.

He stopped in front of the cage, looking down at her through the bars with a hollow, heartless gaze.

"Still Denying?" His voice reverberated through the empty room.

Serena didn’t flinch or cry out. She just slowly opened her eyes, their dull gaze as empty as glass marbles with all the light drained out.

"Open it," Vincent ordered the bodyguard behind him.

The door swung open abruptly. Vincent stepped inside, and the small space was immediately overwhelmed by the sharp mix of tobacco and mint clinging to him. He crouched down, his polished leather shoes pressing carelessly into a sticky puddle of her blood.

He reached out and grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. His thumb pressed firmly against her cheek, almost crushing the bone.

"The doctor said there's no hope for the baby," he said in a flat tone. "Very well. I told you before—I will not have a bastard child."

Serena thought the heart that had long been shattered was now emitting its final violent beat. She gazed at the man before her—the man she had loved for ten years, the man she had shielded from blades.

His eyes held no sorrow, only disgust and a twisted sense of satisfaction, as if he had "purified" her.

"That's yours," Serena whispered. Her voice was like sandpaper—dry and hoarse.

"Shut up." Vincent gripped her hand tighter. He leaned in, his breath brushing her face—intimate yet terrifying. "Isabella's having nightmares because of you. She's afraid you'll hurt her again. So stay here until you learn to be a good dog."

He pulled a document from his inner pocket and threw it on her blood-stained chest.

"Sign it."

Serena lowered her head. The divorce agreement.

"Isabella deserves a title. She's more worthy than you, a venomous slut," Vincent said coldly. "Sign the document, and I might let you go. Refuse, and you'll rot here with rats."

Serena stared at the documents. The white sheets stood out starkly against her swollen, bruised skin.

Ten years.

What she got wasn't a negotiation—it was her miscarriage in a filthy cage and a stack of papers thrown at her like garbage.

Something in the air felt different.

Serena stopped shaking, and the tears in her eyes were gone.

Slowly, she pushed herself upright. The movement sent sharp pain ripping through her lower body, but she didn’t make a sound. She sat up, her hair disheveled and her body exposed, but her back was suddenly straight.

She picked up the pen he had dropped on the floor.

"If I sign," she said, unusually calm, without the pleading tone he had heard before, "will you let me go?"

Vincent furrowed his brow. He had expected her to beg, to clutch his legs and cry out. The sudden deathly silence unsettled him, as if he were facing a stranger.

"Yes," he said with a cold laugh to hide his unease, "Get out of my sight. I'm sick of watching you."

"Fine ."

Serena pulled out the pen cap without hesitation, ignoring the clauses on alimony and property division, as she couldn't care less.

She signed her name with a sharp, almost piercing brushstroke.

She handed the file back to him, her hand steady.

"Take it," she said. For the first time in three years, she looked him in the eyes with nothing but emptiness—cold and endless, like a black hole. "I don't want anything from the Sterlings—not a single cent. Just give me my mother's ring, and I'll disappear."

Vincent snatched the document. He had obtained what he wanted, but a strange, suffocating pressure gripped his chest. Why wasn't she crying? Why did her eyes look dead, like all the light had gone out?

He suddenly stood up, trying to escape the suffocating atmosphere in the cage.

"Get her out!" he bellowed at the bodyguard, turning his back on her. "Give her that cheap ring. I don’t want her junk in my house."

He walked out and the door behind him slammed shut.

Serena sat alone in the darkness once more.

She caressed her flat, empty abdomen. The physical pain left her dazed and disoriented, yet her mind remained exceptionally clear.

"Vincent, you killed the old Serena today."

She dragged her broken body toward the open cage door, without looking back.