Love Signed Away the One Hundredth Time

When my family went bankrupt, I was drugged and sent to the bed of my childhood sweetheart, Craig Kennedy.

From that night, he brought women home every evening, tossing a divorce agreement in my face. "Beg me, and I won't leave you."

He stood above me, watching as I humbled myself to dust, pleading to preserve our marriage.

He even ordered me to kneel in his office and massage the feet of his secretary, Lucia Langston.

On the day the Moore Group needed ten million to survive, she blocked all my desperate calls for help.

I waited 24 hours, watching my family's legacy collapse and my parents take their lives.

Craig, with Lucia at his side, entered the house and threw the signed divorce agreement at me again. "You wanted money to save your family, didn't you? Beg me, and as long as I don't divorce you, no one will touch them."

But I signed it with calm despair. "Don't bother. We no longer need your help."

As I signed the divorce agreement, Craig Kennedy's triumphant smirk froze.

He snatched it, his hand gripping my throat with near-mad intensity. "What game are you playing now? Don't forget that you climbed into my bed. Used every trick to force me into marriage. Why act so noble now? You humiliate yourself all for money, don't you?"

Each word was sharper, more vicious than the last. For three years, he'd hurled these accusations, shaming me, as if I'd stooped so low to win him.

I used to cry, insisting it wasn't true.

Every day for three years, I explained, hoping he'd see my sincerity. But now, my heart was a barren wasteland. His belief or disbelief no longer mattered.

Watching him rage, I felt only bone-deep exhaustion. A heaviness seeped into my marrow, whispering that death might be a relief.

"Speak! How dare you look at me like that? You're the one who betrayed me!" Craig's voice cracked with fury, bringing me back to reality.

When his tirade subsided, I slowly lifted my head. "Are you done? Can I go now?"

For the first time in three years, my voice held an eerie calm.

A flicker of panic crossed his eyes, but he scoffed, masking it. "Where can you go? Take a good look at yourself. Every thread on your body comes from me. Leave the way you came, stripped bare."

His towering arrogance reminded me of the boy he once was. He feared losing me, clung to me, and begged declarations of love.

Those days had vanished like dust in the wind.

Standing before him, I recalled the humiliation of being delivered to his bed like an offering.

I looked at his smug face and smirked. "Okay."

I removed the watch from my wrist.

Countless times, he'd threatened me this way, and I'd pleaded for mercy, clinging to our past.

I had held hope for us and the future.

Now, living felt more torturous than death. His humiliations were mere embellishments to