The Billionaire's Bought Bride and Instant Mom Chapter 206

Vivian

Time had become meaningless in this windowless hell. I could feel the air growing warmer as the day progressed outside, and my damp clothes had long since dried against my skin. The constant ache in my shoulders had evolved into something beyond pain—a deep, throbbing numbness that seemed to reach into my bones.

Hunger gnawed at my stomach, and my throat felt like sandpaper. My legs trembled with the effort of supporting my weight, but somehow the physical discomfort had become secondary to the strange clarity that was settling over my mind.

Images of Grandmother kept floating through my consciousness—her gentle hands, her patient smile, the way she'd looked at me like I actually mattered. Each memory felt precious now, like I was cataloging them for the last time.

*Is this what dying feels like? This gradual letting go?*

The sound of the door opening jarred me back to the present. Dwayne entered alone this time, carrying a metal tray. He set it down just out of my reach, his knuckles deliberately brushing my knee as he did so. The casual, proprietary touch sent a wave of revulsion through me. His expression was almost cheerful, as if he were visiting an old friend.

"Well, well, well," he said with mock warmth, "if it isn't my former partner in crime. What happened to you, Vivian? Suffering for the sake of the woman you used to hate most—it's really quite touching."

I forced myself to meet his eyes, summoning what little strength I had left. "The only mistake I made was ever trusting you."

Dwayne chuckled and picked up the glass of water. The condensation on the outside made it look impossibly cool and refreshing. Despite myself, I felt my throat convulse with desperate thirst as he brought it close to my lips.

"Water," I whispered, hating how weak my voice sounded.

"Of course you want water," he said conversationally. But instead of letting me drink, he tilted the glass just enough for a cold trickle to spill down my chin. I watched in horror as he let the precious liquid run over my throat, soaking the collar of my shirt. "Just tell me everything useful you learned about Aveline. Her routines, her vulnerabilities. Give me something I can use."

The sight of the water being wasted was more agonizing than any physical blow. I forced myself to look away.

"You know what that lunatic Orion is capable of," Dwayne continued, his voice taking on an urgent edge. "If we can get our hands on Aveline again, we control him. You just need to tell me how."

The desperation in his voice was almost pathetic. I gathered what little saliva I could manage and spat at his face.

"I'm done being your tool," I said with as much venom as I could muster. "I'll never help you again."

He didn't wipe it away immediately. He let it sit there for a long moment, a cruel smile playing on his lips as his eyes turned to ice. Then his hand cracked across my cheek. The blow was so hard it slammed my head back into the beam, the force of the impact driving my teeth deep into my lower lip. The coppery tang of blood instantly filled my mouth. He leaned in close, his voice a venomous whisper in my ear, his breath hot and foul. “That was a mistake.” His free hand slid down to my waist, fingers digging into my hip, holding me in place as if I could go anywhere.

The unwanted touch, the feeling of his body so close, was worse than the slap. I was surprised to find that instead of fear, I felt something like pity for him.

"You know what the most pathetic part is?" I said, my voice gaining strength. "Even if you destroy them, you'll still be exactly what you are—a weak man who can only feel powerful by hurting people who can't fight back."

Dwayne's face contorted with rage. "You think this martyrdom act impresses anyone? You're worthless, Vivian. If Aveline cared about you even slightly, I could use you. But the truth is, you don't matter to her any more than you mattered to me."

His words were designed to break me, but instead of the despair he was hoping for, I felt an unexpected relief.

"You're probably right," I said, surprising him. "Maybe she doesn't care. But you know what? I don't care anymore either. Not about her opinion, not about your threats, not about anything except making sure you fail."

I paused, letting my words sink in. "And when Orion crushes you, just remember that it was me—worthless, disposable me—who helped make it happen."

The fury on his face was almost worth the pain that followed. But as his hands moved toward me with clear malicious intent, I closed my eyes, holding onto one thought: I had finally chosen the right side.

His hand moved from my hip, sliding slowly up my thigh, his thumb pressing into the soft flesh of my inner leg. The touch was possessive and terrifying, a silent promise of what was to come.

"You have one hour left," he snarled, his voice shaking with barely controlled violence. He gave my leg a final, brutal squeeze before letting go. "One hour before you learn exactly how worthless you really are."

As he stormed out, leaving me alone with my thirst and my defiance, I found myself smiling for the first time in hours. I might not survive this, but at least I would die knowing I hadn't given him what he wanted.