Chapter 4
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He seized my throat, hurled me across the room, and ripped my wedding dress to pieces, each movement savage and unrestrained.
I crashed to the floor, my shoulder screaming with pain that stole my breath. But what truly froze my blood was the raw hatred blazing in his eyes.
He'd convinced himself I'd poisoned Seraphina, his reason completely devoured by blind rage.
Just then, the bedroom door burst open as someone helped Seraphina stagger into the room.
Her face was chalk-white, her lips an unnatural purple. She lurched forward, dramatically coughing up bright red blood before collapsing in a theatrical faint.
"Seraphina!" Julian's voice cracked with panic as he rushed to catch her, his eyes swimming with worry and guilt.
He whipped his head toward me, his glare venomous—as if I were Satan incarnate.
"You venomous bitch! You actually poisoned her!" he roared, his voice raw with fury and desperation.
Moments later, several white-coated doctors and nurses rushed in. They swarmed around Seraphina, examining her with practiced urgency.
"Mr. Thorne, Miss Seraphina's condition is critical!" a doctor announced with rehearsed anxiety. "We've detected a rare toxin in her system. She needs specialized treatment immediately!"
"Specialized treatment? What kind of treatment?" Julian's voice trembled with barely controlled panic.
"We need a rare blood type or special enzyme to neutralize the toxin," another doctor said, his gaze shifting toward me with calculated malice. "Miss Eleanor's blood type is extremely rare. Her blood might contain the very component we need!"
My heart plummeted. What sick game were they playing?
"That's insane! I didn't poison anyone!" I fought to stand, but Julian slammed me back down with brutal force.
"You dare deny it?" Julian's eyes burned with murderous rage. "Doctor, use whatever means necessary—take her blood! Save Seraphina!"
"Mr. Thorne, this… this violates every medical ethics code…" a young doctor protested weakly.
"Ethics?" Julian snarled, his eyes promising violence. "Let me make this clear—if anything happens to Seraphina, every single one of you will follow her to the grave!"
The doctors exchanged terrified glances before silently surrendering to his demands.
I watched them approach me like executioners, my heart pounding with terror. I thrashed wildly, screaming my innocence until my throat burned, but my pleas fell on deaf ears.
"Stop! You can't do this! I'm innocent!" I screamed, hot tears streaming down my face.
"Miss Vance, please cooperate," a nurse said with ice in her voice as she pinned me to the bed.
I gasped as the cold needle jabbed into my arm.
Dizziness swept over me instantly, my vision swimming. Through the haze, I heard Julian demanding more blood, ordering painful procedures.
My limbs felt leaden, useless. I was completely at their mercy.
Before darkness claimed me completely, I glimpsed Julian cradling Seraphina, his eyes overflowing with tenderness. Meanwhile, I lay discarded like an empty husk, used and forgotten.
I woke the next morning, my body limp as a rag doll. Thick bandages wrapped my arms, each heartbeat sending fresh waves of pain through them.
I forced myself upright, surveying the chaos of my bedroom—my wedding dress in tatters on the floor. Desolation washed over me.
Then something hardened inside me. I refused to be broken. I refused to surrender.
That dress embodied all my hopes for the future. I would mend it, just as I would rebuild my shattered life.
I dragged my weakened body across the floor, gathering each scrap of fabric. With trembling fingers and tear-blurred vision, I began stitching them together—one painstaking stitch at a time.
This wasn't just about salvaging a dress—it was about reclaiming my dignity, my future, my very self.
Days later, Seraphina wheedled Julian into taking her to a tropical island getaway.
Julian visited me before their departure. His eyes filled with contempt as he surveyed my patchwork wedding dress.
"Still clinging to false hope, Eleanor?" His voice dripped with mockery. "You think you'll actually marry Ethan Kale? Dream on. I've already announced that our families' marriage alliance is merely delayed. Reflect on your behavior—when you finally come to your senses, I might consider giving you a proper position."
He tossed the words at me like garbage and walked out without a backward glance.
I watched him leave, my eyes cold as winter. Reflect? I had nothing to reflect on. My resolve had never been stronger.
I worked feverishly to complete the dress, finishing it just one day before the wedding.
Though visible mending marks crisscrossed the fabric, to me it was the most beautiful wedding dress ever created.
Each stitch carried my hope, my resilience, my refusal to be broken.
The next day, at a secluded Vance family estate, I donned my handmade dress and married Ethan Kale in an intimate, heartfelt ceremony.
No extravagant displays, no press—just a handful of trusted friends and family. Ethan took my hand, his eyes brimming with tenderness and unwavering commitment.
In that moment, peace washed over me like never before. I knew with absolute certainty I'd made the right choice.
Weeks later, Julian and Seraphina returned from their island retreat. Convinced I was still "reflecting" in my apartment, awaiting his "mercy," he strode into Thorne Industries with his usual arrogant swagger.
"Eleanor Vance should understand her mistake by now," he told his assistant smugly. "Tell her if she truly repents, I might consider giving her another chance."
The assistant's expression grew uncomfortable. He hesitated before saying quietly, "Mr. Thorne… Miss Vance… she's already married."
Julian's smile froze on his face. He shot to his feet, his eyes wide with shock and disbelief.
"What did you just say?" His voice cracked with barely controlled emotion.
