The Unwanted Wife's Cold Comeback

I loved my husband, Adrien, for ten years. On our wedding night, he didn't come to our bed. Instead, he had me dragged to a cold, damp cellar to be taught a lesson.

His ex-lover, Fallon, stood by with a triumphant smirk as he accused me of betrayal. He believed her lies, every single one.

He watched as his men ripped my wedding dress from my body, leaving me naked and broken on the concrete floor.

"You disgust me," he spat, his voice laced with a venom that shattered my heart.

For a year, I endured his cold hatred and abuse. My love for him withered and died, replaced by a chilling emptiness.

But when his cruelty led to my mother's death, and I discovered I was pregnant with his child, I knew I had to escape. So, I threw myself into the ocean, faking my death. This would be my revenge.

Chapter 1

Alina POV:

The air was thick and heavy, smelling of damp concrete and my own fear. Adrien' s voice, cold as a winter storm, cut through it. "Teach her a lesson. Make sure she understands the cost of betrayal."

Fallon, Adrien's ex-lover, stepped into the weak light filtering from a high window. Her smile was sharp, colder than Adrien's voice. It promised pain.

I stumbled backward, the rough concrete scraping my bare arms. There was nowhere left to go. My breath hitched.

"Adrien," I whispered, my voice raw. "Please. What is this? Why are you doing this?"

Two men, built like stone walls, moved in. Their shadows swallowed me whole.

I thrashed, my hands flying, trying to push them away. It was useless. Like fighting stone.

One of them grabbed the delicate lace of my wedding dress. The fabric ripped with a sound like tearing flesh. My heart pounded against my ribs.

I clutched at the torn pieces, trying to cover myself. It felt like my dignity was being shredded along with the silk.

Their grip was iron. I was a rag doll in their hands.

I hit the cold floor hard. A hand, rough and calloused, brushed my thigh. I flinched, my stomach turning.

"Adrien! I'm your wife! How can you stand there and watch this?"

Adrien' t flinch. A muscle tensed in his jaw. His eyes, usually so intense, were just cold.

"Take it all," he said, his voice flat. "Every last piece."

"No! Please! Adrien!" My scream tore from my throat, cracking in the damp air.

I fought like a cornered animal, kicking and clawing. They held me down with crushing force.

I felt like a lamb, trapped, waiting for the butcher.

"Adrien, please! Stop this! It's me, Alina!" Tears streamed down my face, mixing with dust and sweat. Each drop felt like a part of me dying.

He never saw me. Not truly. Not as his wife. Not as a person.

He stood in the faint light, a silhouette of cold indifference. The light didn't touch him.

He didn' t move. My