Chapter 4
But that familiar voice did nothing to ease Phoebe's nerves. Her fear twisted into disgust, making her almost gag. She pushed him away as hard as she could.
But with the difference in strength, Xander just mistook her struggle for passion.
"Phoebe, I miss you too. Just hold on for one more week. I promise you won't have to go through this anymore," he said.
With one hand, he raised her arm above her head, their fingers interlaced. Suddenly, his eyes snapped open.
"Where's your ring?" he pressed.
He kept her pinned, making her look straight into his eyes.
Phoebe felt her heart about to leap out of her chest. Her mind was a total blank. She just stared back, trying to look helpless, praying he'd let it go and not push any further.
But the next second, he grabbed her chin, his voice cold and measured, every word dripping with menace.
"Talk. Who are you trying to get to help you escape this time?" he pressed.
Phoebe's heart was pounding. She tried to hide her guilt behind a hoarse, shaky yell.
She said, "I hid it. Xander, if you're just keeping me here to flaunt how much you love Alena, then stop giving me stuff like that ring. Stop making me care about you again.
"I can't take this anymore. Do you even know how much it tears me apart every time I see that ring?"
"Why are you so heartless to me? Why do you keep hurting me like this?"
She broke free and started beating on Xander's chest, over and over, her fists raining down in desperation.
Xander's eyes shifted—first blazing with anger, then stunned, and finally, a flicker of joy crept in.
Instead of getting mad at her resistance, he just pulled her even closer, holding her tighter.
"I love you, Phoebe. You're the only one I've ever loved," he said.
He rained down kisses on her, his breath hot and ragged in her ear.
It finally dawned on Phoebe that her words just now were exactly the kind of thing a jealous woman would blurt out.
Any guy would feel smug seeing a woman broken and battered by him, yet still loving him, no matter what.
Of course he would.
Phoebe stared numbly at the ceiling. Even though she felt like throwing up, there was no escape for her.
When it was over, Xander's phone buzzed. Alena was calling.
He tossed a few perfunctory words her way, changed clothes, and slipped out the door.
Phoebe curled up in the corner of the bed, silent and small, like a little animal licking its wounds.
After Xander left, Phoebe pulled out her phone.
Just three days left, and she'd finally be out of here.
She would never, ever marry him again.
She spent three hours in the bathroom, scrubbing herself until her skin was red and sore, finally able to face herself again.
When she finally stepped out wrapped in a towel, she saw Alena sitting in the living room with her legs crossed, looking casual, and a middle-aged couple standing behind her.
Phoebe's heart skipped a beat. "What the hell are you doing here?"
Alena was swirling her wine glass, but when she noticed the marks on Phoebe's collarbone, her nonchalant look disappeared in an instant.
She came over and hooked Phoebe's chin up with her index finger.
"So, you spent the night with Xander, didn't you?" Alena pressed.
"I didn't," Phoebe protested.
"Edwin Booth," Alena called out.
As soon as Alena spoke, the man in black behind her stepped forward, holding a whip at the ready.
Phoebe instinctively took a step back, her voice cold. "What the hell are you trying to do?"
Alena let out a cold laugh. "What do you think? I'm here to teach you a lesson, you little vixen."
"Beat her," Alena snapped.
With a loud crack, a bloody welt slashed across Phoebe's chest, her skin torn open. The pain made her whole body shake uncontrollably.
Alena crouched down, her tone exaggerated and dripping with insincerity.
"Edwin, you really went overboard. I was just having a little fun with Phoebe," she said with mock innocence.
"Oh, wait—guess I shouldn't call you Phoebe anymore. Looks like you're Briella now," Alena sneered.
She pulled an ID card from her bag and tossed it in front of Phoebe.
Next to the photo of her post-surgery face, the name stood out in bold: Briella Noel.
Alena's eyes were filled with blatant malice.
"Briella, do you like your new name? I personally picked it out for you," Alena sneered.
The ID card was tossed aside, and Phoebe stared at a face and name she barely recognized.
Her blood froze in her veins.
'Why? I was with him for three years, and now even my name is being stripped away by them?' Phoebe thought.
But before Phoebe could even process the pain, the second whip lashed through the air.
"Miss Bryant asked whether you like your new name?" Edwin said.
Phoebe's eyes burned, and she choked out the words, fighting through the agony. "I like it."
Alena finally let out a smug laugh, playing with her hair.
"Briella, do you want to marry Xander? If you want him, I can let you have him," Alena mocked.
Phoebe couldn't figure out what Alena was up to, but before she could react, Alena went on.
"But you need your parents at the wedding, right? Relax, I've got that covered for you," she sneered.
Alena pointed at the two unfamiliar middle-aged people, acting all excited.
"Briella, hurry up and call them Mom and Dad," she said.