Breaking Free from His Grip

The hospital's VIP wing smelled like expensive disinfectant and fresh lilies—a nauseating combination that made my stomach clench as Royce's fingers dug into my arm. His grip had left bruises before; I knew this would be another.

"Walk faster," he muttered, dragging me down the pristine hallway where our footsteps echoed like gunshots. I stumbled, still weak from the flu I'd been fighting for weeks, but his pace never slowed.

We stopped outside room 314. Through the partially open door, I glimpsed Elliana propped against silk pillows, her golden hair fanned across the white sheets like a halo. Even from here, she looked ethereal—fragile in the way that made men want to protect her. The way I'd never been.

Royce pushed the door open without knocking.

"Scout's here," he announced, his voice carrying a warmth reserved only for her.

Elliana's eyes fluttered open, and tears immediately began sliding down her porcelain cheeks. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I never wanted... I told Royce not to involve you, but..." She pressed a delicate hand to her chest, as if the very act of speaking was agony.

"The doctors say you're a perfect match," Royce said, turning to me with those cold gray eyes that once looked at me with love. "Your bone marrow could save her life."

I stared at him, searching for any trace of the man who used to hold me during thunderstorms. "Royce, I've been sick. My immune system—"

"Is fine," he cut me off. "I had you tested while you were sleeping."

The violation of that hit me like ice water. "You had me tested without my consent?"

"You're my wife. I don't need your consent."

Elliana sobbed harder. "Please don't fight because of me. I couldn't live with myself if—" Her words dissolved into gasping breaths that had Royce rushing to her side, smoothing her hair with infinite tenderness.

"I won't do it," I said quietly.

Royce's hand stilled. The machines monitoring Elliana's vitals seemed to beep louder in the sudden silence.

"What did you say?"

"I said no." My voice was steadier than I felt. "Find another donor."

His face transformed into something I barely recognized—a mask of rage barely contained beneath expensive cologne and tailored suits. Without a word, he pulled out his phone and pressed play.

Zayden's voice filled the room, high with terror and pain: "Scout, please, whatever he wants, just give it to him. They're going to—" A sickening crack interrupted his words, followed by screaming that would haunt my nightmares forever.

My knees gave out. I caught myself against the doorframe, bile rising in my throat.

"That was recorded an hour ago," Royce said conversationally, pocketing the phone. "Your brother is currently... indisposed. Whether his situation improves or becomes permanent depends entirely on your decision in the next sixty seconds."

"You're lying." But even as I said it, I knew he wasn't. The man I'd married was capable of many things, but lying wasn't one of