Too Late to Regret My Ex-Husband's Obsession Couldn't Stop Me

"So what if you’re on your period? Last year, Kade and the guys even threw a game night for this, and not a single soul ended up in the hospital." Bronson’s grip on Estelle tightened, his fingers digging into her arm with ruthless force. Estelle gasped, her voice trembling as pain seeped into her words. Through gritted teeth, she hissed, "This is marital rape!" Bronson let out a cold, mocking chuckle, his tone dripping with disdain. "And then what? What are you going to do about it, Lawyer Maddox?" His smirk grew darker. "Go ahead, sue me. But when you do, I’ll bring your mother’s ashes into the courtroom. From then on, if you want to pay your respects to her, you’ll have to visit me in prison first." The fire in Estelle’s eyes dimmed, her fury fading into helplessness. She collapsed onto the bed, her body limp and lifeless, like a marionette whose strings had been cut. "Bronson, why don’t you just die?" she whispered, her voice hollow, the words a fragile echo of her shattered spirit. Bronson, the master of cruelty, stroked her cheek with unsettling tenderness as though her words had been mere whispers in the wind. "If I die, Estelle, you’ll come with me. Don’t think you can escape. Even if you run to the ends of the earth, I’ll find you. And when I do, I’ll break your legs and keep you locked up at home. I’ll take care of you for the rest of your life, whether you like it or not." By the time Estelle woke up, Bronson was already gone, likely at an urgent meeting. These fleeting moments of solitude were her only reprieve. The torment of the previous night had left her feverish. She fumbled for fever-reducing pills, swallowing them with cold water that burned her throat like fire. It was swollen, painfully so. This routine had become mundane, almost second nature. Bronson seemed to revel in her silent endurance. The first time Estelle had endured such humiliation was at a dinner party. Her mother was still alive then, and Bronson forced her to skip work to attend. While he could drag her to the gathering, he couldn’t make her feign politeness. Her disdain had been etched on her face, growing darker with every passing minute. Normally, the icy tension between them was enough to keep others at a distance. But by the time she arrived, most of the guests were already drunk. One of Bronson’s friends, unsteady on his feet with a wine glass swaying in his hand, stumbled toward her. “Sister-in-law, Bronson’s told us so much about you. Finally, we meet! Come, let me toast to you!” Estelle ignored him, her focus entirely on her meal, radiating an air of aloof detachment. She was like a mountain flower, untouchable and out of place, her indifference a stinging slap to Bronson’s pride. The man was caught off guard and fidgeted awkwardly, unsure of how to recover. On Bronson’s other side, Kade, ever the peacemaker, noticed the tension and stepped in quickly. “Have you had so much to drink that you’ve forgotten yourself? Do you even realize how much Bronson protects her? He’s finally brought her out, and you have the nerve to push her to drink?” Kade gave the man a subtle nudge with his foot, trying to steer him away. But before he could take more than a step, Bronson’s cold voice cut through the air. "Estelle, didn’t you hear my friend speaking to you?" A chill settled over the room. Kade’s stomach tightened, sweat forming at his temples. Bronson was never one to tolerate defiance, and Estelle’s stony demeanor had clearly worn thin on his patience. “Are you deaf?” Bronson growled, snatching the chopsticks from her hand. Though his voice was low, it carried a weight that silenced the rowdy room in an instant. Estelle drew in a steadying breath, rose from her seat with her wine glass in hand, and approached the trembling man. Without hesitation, she clinked her glass against his and drained its contents in a single swallow. Then, as if delivering a verdict, she hurled the empty glass at Bronson’s feet. Her voice, calm but cutting, sliced through the thick silence. “Is there anything else? If not, I’ll take my leave.” Bronson’s lips curled into a smirk, his gaze sharp and unyielding. He didn’t bother to rise. Instead, he reached out, grabbing her arm with an iron grip and yanking her down to the floor at his feet. The movement was so sudden that Estelle couldn’t brace herself. She landed on her knees amidst the shattered glass. Kade cringed at the sight, an involuntary hiss escaping his lips, but Estelle didn’t so much as wince. “Bronson, she’s a woman. Don’t…”

"Wait outside." Kade’s attempt to excuse the growing noise died on his lips as Bronson’s commanding tone cut through the air. The room emptied in moments, leaving nothing but silence in its wake. “Is it really so unbearable to have a meal with me?” Bronson asked, his voice low and edged with frustration as he pinned Estelle against the glass, his grip unyielding. “If you’re looking for a drinking partner, you’ve come to the wrong place,” Estelle shot back, her chin lifted defiantly, her composure unshaken despite the intensity of his gaze. “I don’t need a drinking partner,” Bronson murmured, his tone laced with a dark undercurrent. “But I’m upset, and I need you to make me feel better.” Before she could reply, he pulled her down onto his lap, his hold unrelenting. Estelle struggled, her movements fierce, but Bronson released her without warning, leaning back with a look of amusement as she scrambled to her feet, poised to flee. Calmly, he pulled out his phone and dialed. “Director Parish,” he said, his voice taking on a chilling calmness, “the patient I asked you to look after, stop their medication for now.” The words hung in the air, their weight undeniable. Bronson ended the call, his smirk deepening as he leaned back leisurely, raising an eyebrow at Estelle, who froze in place. Estelle’s face drained of color, her eyes widening with disbelief as they locked onto him. “You never spent a single cent on my mother’s medication. What right do you have to stop it?” her voice trembled with restrained fury. “Because my last name is Bradwell,” he replied with a smirk that carried an edge of menace. “And if I so choose, not a single doctor in this hospital or this city would dare treat your mother. Evergreen Valley would become a dead end for her care. Of course, you could take her elsewhere, but from what I hear, moving her in her condition is nearly impossible.” His words cut deeper than any blade, but he wasn’t finished. “Estelle, I had hoped for something mutual. But if you insist on resisting, I can just take what I want.” Her glare bore into him like a dagger, but each step she took toward him felt like walking through quicksand. She closed her eyes, her knees hitting the floor with a weight that crushed her spirit. When it was over, Estelle coughed violently, the metallic taste of blood stinging her throat. The fire in her chest burned, but her heart had gone cold. She couldn’t resist him, couldn’t escape, couldn’t even die. She was no more than a hollow vessel, shackled to Bronson’s whims. Estelle left for work despite her fever. She had been caught in the web of a harassment case for weeks. The defendant was powerful and untouchable, a man whose wealth and influence allowed him to wipe away every trace of his wrongdoings. The case couldn’t be filed, leaving Estelle to navigate through the murky waters of litigation. The first trial had been a crushing defeat, and everyone had lost hope. But Estelle, undeterred, had taken on the case for free. The victim, a young girl still in school and abandoned by her parents, had come to see Estelle as a beacon of hope, a savior in her dark world. Today, Estelle could have taken a break, but her determination to finish the case quickly had overridden her fatigue. The girl had exams looming, and Estelle didn’t want to drag the ordeal out any longer than necessary. After her mother’s death, the only thing that kept Estelle alive was the pursuit of justice for her clients. It was her escape from the suffocating shadow Bronson cast over her life. She had thought about ending it all, but Bronson had dug up her mother’s grave, the act cruel and heartless. He’d taken her mother’s ashes as a twisted reminder of his control. “Bronson! Are you even human?!” Estelle had screamed, her voice breaking under the weight of her grief. But he had held her tight, his grip unyielding, preventing her from collapsing into herself. “Marry me, or face the consequences,” Bronson had demanded, his words cold and final. At first, Estelle had refused, her resolve fierce. She had gathered enough evidence to bring him down, to sue him for everything he had done. The case had gone smoother than she had expected, with Bronson reluctantly returning the ashes after the matter was settled. But when Estelle checked, she realized that only half of her mother’s remains had been returned. For over twenty years, Estelle had lived her life believing in black and white, trusting that the law would punish the guilty. That was until she met Bronson. Powerless against him, Estelle had no choice but to submit and marry him. Just as she sat down at her desk, lost in thought, the receptionist’s voice interrupted her. Someone was looking for her. Thinking it was a client, Estelle stepped out only to find Soleil Ruslan waiting for her. Soleil, the woman who had left her lingerie at Bronson’s house just the day before, Bronson’s childhood friend, the one who clearly had no intention of staying in the background. Soleil’s gaze was sharp, her eyes sweeping over Estelle with an air of distaste as if she were studying something unworthy of her attention. Without saying a word, Soleil settled into the guest area, the silence between them heavy and thick with unspoken words.

"Bronson said you washed the lingerie I left behind yesterday?" Estelle kept her eyes fixed on the case files, flipping through them with deliberate calm as if Soleil’s words were nothing more than a passing breeze. Soleil slammed her cup onto the table, her anger spilling over as she hissed, "Estelle, how long are you going to keep clinging to Bronson?!" Estelle’s response was cool, distant. "You’ll have to ask him about that." The word divorce had once escaped Estelle’s lips, and at the very moment it did, Bronson had driven her to the seaside in the dead of night. He stood there, his coat whipping in the cold breeze. “Estelle, if you don’t want to end up at your mother’s grave for a second time, go ahead and say it. Say you want a divorce.” Estelle’s eyes lifted from the papers, her voice sharp as a blade. "If you could get Bronson to divorce me, you wouldn't be here. You and he are childhood friends, well-matched, but you couldn’t handle him. How do you expect me to?" That struck a nerve with Soleil. At first, she thought Bronson was just playing with Estelle, but after returning from six months abroad, she found that Estelle and Bronson had already made it official. Soleil knew Bronson. If he didn’t care deeply for someone, they would never make it onto his household registration. If she could have moved him, she wouldn’t have been here now, testing Estelle’s devotion like a fool. "I never wanted to be the young madam of the Bradwell family," Estelle stood, her voice steady but biting. "If you want that position, go ahead and find your way in. But don’t expect me to make it easier for you." She paused, then added, almost casually, "And your lingerie? It wasn’t washed. It’s in the trash now." With that, Estelle turned on her heel and left, leaving Soleil seething behind her, her teeth grinding in frustration. Just as Estelle reached the door, Soleil’s phone rang—an incoming call from the private investigator she had hired to dig into Estelle’s life. "Miss Ruslan, we have news," the investigator’s voice crackled through the line. "Estelle secretly had an abortion at the OB-GYN yesterday." Soleil’s eyes gleamed with a spark of triumph. She knew that bloodline was sacred to Bronson’s grandfather, and this could be the key. "What should we do next?" the investigator asked, his voice uncertain. Soleil’s lips curved into a sly smile. "Not yet. Estelle threw away my things, so let’s make her regret it first." She didn’t quite understand why Estelle had married Bronson. Still, Soleil was certain of one thing: Estelle wouldn’t agree to a divorce until she had been pushed to the breaking point. Later that day, while Estelle was out picking up takeout, fate intervened. She found herself caught in a minor car accident. Her left leg snapped, and though the driver was kind enough to take her to the hospital, the pain was unbearable. As the doctor set the bone without anesthesia, Estelle’s face drained of color, cold sweat beading on her forehead. Finally, after being discharged with a cast on her leg, Estelle’s phone buzzed. It was Bronson. "You're not at the office?" he asked, his voice cool and controlled. He had a way of tracking her movements with uncanny precision. "I had an accident, just heading back," Estelle replied, carefully weighing her words. She knew the accident wasn’t a coincidence, but she had no intention of telling Bronson the truth. The Bradwell and Ruslan families were in the middle of a crucial deal, and if she caused any disruption, she knew the Bradwells would never forgive her. She had reached a point where the only person she wanted to deal with was Bronson. "Don’t go back. Come to the hotel and find me," Bronson’s voice came through, dripping with amusement. Estelle’s brow twitched in response. "I still have a case to handle..." "Why don’t you come and try?" Bronson replied before ending the call. With no other choice, Estelle hailed a taxi, heading straight to him. Today marked the anniversary of their wedding. Bronson had spared no expense, hosting a grand banquet. Having never courted a woman before, he wasn’t sure how to make her smile. After consulting Kade, he decided to surprise her with something special.

The banquet had been planned for the evening, all for Estelle, but as soon as she took leave, Bronson eagerly changed the time. He couldn’t wait to see her. If it weren’t for her insistence on working, he would’ve locked her by his side forever, keeping her from the world. In the banquet hall, Kade’s gaze fell on the diamond bracelet Bronson had kept close—one he had practically fought for at auction, tripling the price to get his hands on it. "Is this for Estelle?" Kade asked a glint of curiosity in his eyes. "It suits her," Bronson replied, his fingers brushing over the bracelet with tenderness, as if holding something infinitely precious. His gaze softened as if he were gazing at Estelle herself. Kade shuddered and hastily took a sip of his drink. "Man, you’re going all out for a wedding anniversary. Are you seriously planning to spend your whole life with Estelle?" Bronson tucked the bracelet away and responded casually, "What’s wrong with that?" "Nothing... just wait until you piss off Lawyer Maddox. When she sends you to jail, I’ll be sure to visit you on holidays," Kade said with a wince, half-joking. "She wouldn’t dare," Bronson replied confidently, his voice steady. Kade looked at him, disbelief and concern mingling in his eyes. He couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sympathy for Estelle. The Bradwell family was an enigma, standing apart from the rest of their circle. Bronson had been snatched away as a child, tortured by enemies. He didn’t return to his family until his teenage years. When they found him, he was a shell of a boy, his body covered in bruises, barely hanging on to life after days of abuse. That harrowing childhood left scars, not just on his skin but deep in his soul. While he seemed composed most of the time, when it came to something or someone he held dear, he became like a bloodthirsty predator. Once his claws sank in, he’d never let go. Estelle was the only one he had ever truly pursued. Bronson’s phone buzzed, and, a little drunk, he opened it. The moment his eyes scanned the message, the alcohol seemed to evaporate, replaced by a cold fury. His face hardened, and with a curse, he hurled the phone across the room. When Estelle limped into the banquet hall, she found it empty except for Bronson. She sensed something was wrong and stopped in her tracks. Bronson stood in the middle of the room, his sleeves rolled up, looking every bit the mix of sophistication and danger. He stubbed out his cigarette and turned his gaze to her. The anger on his face disappeared as soon as he noticed her cast. He was by her side in a heartbeat. "How did this happen?" "I tripped," Estelle replied, her voice cold and distant. Bronson saw through her lie instantly, and the anger he had been holding back flared to life once more. He ground his teeth before demanding, "Where were you yesterday?" Estelle hesitated, then, hoping to brush it off, answered, "I was working late." Bronson smiled, but it was nothing more than a grimace, his patience wearing thin. "I’ll give you one more chance." Estelle knew this moment would come, though she had hoped to avoid it. She’d felt it hanging in the air for some time, like the calm before a storm, but she hadn’t expected it to break so soon. When she didn’t respond, Bronson knew she had made her choice: silence. And he hated it, hated the way she pretended to ignore the issue as if it were beneath her. During his years abroad, Bronson had found solace in the brutal sport of boxing. No mercy, no hesitation. With that same energy, he kicked a table across the room, sending glass shards flying in all directions, crashing like thunder. “Estelle, is it really so hard for you to have a child with me?” His voice was strained, his eyes bloodshot, as he closed the distance between them, trapping her against the wall. “Why would I want to?” Estelle retorted, her crutch slipping from her grip as she steadied herself against the wall. “Why would I want a child with a thief?” Bronson’s laugh was bitter, twisted by frustration. His teeth ground together as he lowered his head to her neck, his breath hot against her skin. “I... I wanted to be good to you, Estelle.” Estelle felt a cold shiver creep up her spine. How could he still speak of being “good” to her after everything he had done? It was as if he had no understanding of the damage he had caused.

Bronson pressed a soft kiss to Estelle’s lips, the warmth of his touch lingering before he whispered against them, “Give me a child, and I’ll give you your mother’s ashes.” Estelle’s heart twisted at the words. She knew it was a cruel kind of hostage exchange, a game where she held no cards. If she could abandon a helpless newborn after giving birth, if she could simply walk away with her mother’s ashes, then Bronson would never have been able to use them as a weapon. From the start, he would have never had the power to threaten her with such a thing. But now, as she stood before him, she realized that it wasn’t just about the ashes. It was about control. And she had none. She had no say over her own body. The moment Bronson uttered those words, she knew the child would be born, whether she consented or not. Tears clouded her vision as she met his gaze, her body trembling, her voice barely a whisper. “Okay.” Bronson’s smile was triumphant as he gently slid the diamond bracelet onto her wrist. It was an exquisite piece, but it felt like a shackle rather than a gift. "Estelle, you'll stay by my side forever." Estelle had just gone through an abortion, and the idea of becoming pregnant again was far from appealing. Her injured leg only made matters worse. But Bronson wasn’t rushing her. To make Estelle feel more at ease and to help prepare her for what was to come, he had even cleared all the spies from her company. At last, Estelle found herself with the time she needed to catch up on the cases piling up in her office. The day before the trial, Estelle met with the victim’s guardian. “Lawyer Maddox, I’ve heard your services are expensive. Thank you for agreeing to help Tala without charge,” Aurora Smith, Tala Smith’s mother, said. Though she was just shy of forty, years of hard labor under the sun had aged her prematurely, giving her the appearance of someone much older, almost like Tala’s grandmother. Aurora’s hesitant eyes glanced around before Estelle gently ushered Tala out of the room. A relieved sigh escaped Aurora’s lips as she looked at Estelle, her sunken eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Lawyer Maddox, my daughter’s father, wants to know if we can settle this quietly. What can that bastard offer us to make it go away?” Estelle hesitated, confusion flashing across her face before Aurora quickly waved her hands in a frantic gesture. “No, no, Lawyer. We don’t want to cause trouble. It’s just that he has power and influence, and Tala’s so young. I’m afraid it’ll ruin her. People will shame her when she returns to the village. After we’re gone, no one will stand up for her. We just want to make sure she’s taken care of. We want some compensation for her suffering.” Estelle gently reassured her, "Don’t worry, we won’t take Tala’s case to court publicly. Given the situation, a compensation of ten thousand should be within reach. I’ll do everything I can to secure what she truly deserves." At the mention of ten thousand, Aurora’s gaze flickered. She seemed on the verge of saying something more, but the moment Tala returned, her words faded away. Estelle rose to see them out. Aurora led the way, while Tala stayed close to Estelle, keeping a few steps behind her mother. "Sister Estelle, do you think the bad people will really be brought to justice?" Tala asked, her voice laced with doubt. "They will," Estelle answered firmly, her conviction unwavering. Tala breathed a sigh of relief and whispered, "Actually, they don’t want me to sue them. Lately, people have been causing trouble for my parents at the construction site. My dad says it’s all my fault." Estelle’s chest tightened. She paused, her mind spinning with questions. Even if she helped Tala win the case, would it be enough? Would the other party simply move on once they were out of prison, or would they come after her again? Estelle had worked hard over the years, building a small nest egg. But none of her money or security could protect her from someone like Bronson. By the time the defendant was free, Tala would still be in college. What then? "Sister, do you know what my parents said when they came home?" Tala’s voice cut through Estelle’s thoughts with a raw edge to it. Tala’s eyes met Estelle’s with a heavyweight. "My dad said that if I had gone out to work sooner, found a man to marry, someone who could protect me, none of this would’ve happened. He told me I was worthless and that I’d dragged them down with me."

Estelle paused, then wrapped her arms around Tala in a tight hug. Before she could find the words to comfort her, Tala returned the embrace with equal intensity. "Sister, I know it’s not my fault. I won’t let myself be blamed," Tala said, her voice steady but filled with quiet strength. "If I don’t stand up, he’ll hurt other girls. And my parents, well, they’ve never cared for me. They gave all their love to my brother. What they say now is just because that scum showed up with money." Tala had thought she’d become numb to the pain, but talking to Estelle made her heart twist, and tears threatened to fall. "Look, to them, I’m just a means to an end. Whether I marry early or drop the case, they don’t care about what I want. That man, when he touched me, he said he was born superior, that no one could punish him, not even the law." Her voice shook slightly, but her resolve remained clear. "I don’t want money. I just want him to pay for what he’s done." Tala looked up at Estelle, her eyes bright with hope and admiration. "Sister, you’ll help me, won’t you?" Estelle nodded firmly, her voice full of conviction. "I promise you, I will make him pay the price he deserves." She gently patted Tala’s head before sealing her promise with a pinky swear. Tala’s eyes sparkled as she skipped away, a rare glimmer of youthful innocence lighting up her face, something Estelle hadn’t seen from her before. In truth, the case was incredibly difficult. Estelle poured herself into it, working late into the night, desperate for a breakthrough. But with the victim’s family wavering on whether to proceed, Estelle knew it was fear keeping them in the fight, the fear of their own failures being exposed. Even if they lost, the other party would still pay ten thousand in compensation, so they wouldn't end up with nothing. Estelle understood: this was her one shot. She couldn’t protect herself, but at least she would protect Tala. When work finally came to an end, a crowd had gathered outside the building. Estelle had already removed her plaster, but she was still walking with a noticeable slowness. She tried to slip past the crowd unnoticed, but as she rounded the corner, she spotted Bronson waiting for her by the curb. He leaned casually against a car with a license plate full of sevens, the keys spinning effortlessly around his finger. To prepare for the pregnancy, Bronson had quit smoking and drinking, a far cry from the careless man Estelle had once known. He looked almost... diligent. Her coworkers knew only that Estelle was married, but none of them knew her husband was Bronson. Estelle instinctively tried to avoid him, but he had already caught sight of her. She had no choice but to approach, her every step weighed down by the curious gazes of her colleagues. Without a word, she opened the passenger door and slid inside. Bronson smirked, a glint of amusement in his eyes before slowly sliding into the driver’s seat. "Can we switch cars next time?" Estelle rubbed her forehead, the buzzing of her phone in her hand almost unbearable. "You can pick any car from the garage. I’ll drive it next time," Bronson replied, starting the engine. Estelle didn’t respond. The garage only housed cars that were far more expensive than this one, so she had little choice in the matter. Lately, she and Bronson had managed to find a delicate balance between them. Estelle didn’t want to argue, so she chose silence, the weight of her thoughts pressing down on her. Tonight was the Bradwell family's annual banquet, and Estelle had no choice but to attend. As she stepped into the grand old house with Bronson, her gaze immediately landed on Soleil standing nearby. Without missing a beat, Estelle averted her eyes, masking her indifference, pretending not to notice. Soleil, however, didn’t let her go so easily. Gripping her palm tightly, she swiftly approached. "Bronson, Auntie was just asking for you. Let me take care of Estelle. You can go see if Auntie needs anything." Bronson was always alert when it came to rivals, no matter their gender. Instinctively, he pulled Estelle closer, wrapping an arm around her waist. He turned to Soleil with a sharp look and said, "Estelle is my wife, the daughter-in-law of the Bradwell family. If my mother needs something, she’ll have no trouble finding me." Soleil’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second, but she quickly regained her composure, keeping her voice steady. "It’s about Grandpa Brandon."

Soleil’s words were veiled, yet Bronson understood them immediately. Someone had tipped off Brandon about Estelle’s surgery, and the old man had nearly given the final word on their divorce. In the Bradwell family, Bronson could disregard anyone’s opinion without much consequence, but Brandon’s voice was law. When everyone else had turned their back on Bronson, it was Brandon who had refused to give up, pushing for him to return to the family. The Bradwell family had never been against Bronson marrying Estelle, except for Brandon, who believed Estelle was a woman of remarkable talent and beauty, their children destined for greatness. But Estelle had made an unforgivable decision; she had aborted the child Bronson had desperately wanted. In response, Bronson had knelt in front of the ancestral hall for three days, claiming he hadn’t been ready for a child, that he had smoked and drank during the period they had been trying, fearing the child would be unhealthy. He had taken the fall to protect her, burying the truth. Estelle had never known any of this. Bronson didn’t want her to face Brandon; it would only make her uncomfortable. He didn’t mind taking the blame, but Estelle, fragile and delicate, could never bear Brandon’s punishment. Reluctantly, Bronson let go of Estelle’s hand, instructing Soleil to take care of her, then walked away, glancing back several times before disappearing into the night. Estelle didn’t want to argue with Soleil, but Soleil wasn’t about to let her go. As Estelle walked toward the terrace, Soleil relentlessly followed, her presence an unwelcome shadow. Estelle didn’t know where Soleil had found the plastic bottle, but it hit her sharply on the back. “I heard you used to pick up trash to get to school. How does it feel seeing this? Does it bring back memories?” Soleil’s voice dripped with malice. Estelle was never one to back down. With swift precision, she grabbed a wine bottle and smashed it against the railing. The jagged shards of glass glinted in her hand as she stepped forward, pinning Soleil down and pressing the sharp edges to her neck. Soleil opened her mouth to scream, but Estelle’s hand inched closer, silencing her. “Scream again, and when the others come in, they’ll find nothing but your body,” Estelle warned, her voice cold as steel. “Estelle, how dare you…” Soleil’s voice quivered, but Estelle didn’t give her the chance to finish. “Do you know the principle of staying clear of the happy? You, the young lady of a powerful family, with everything handed to you, and I—as you said—had to scrounge for bottles just to get to school. Now, I have no family, no ties, nothing left to lose. Do you think there’s anything I won’t do?” Fear flooded Soleil’s eyes. Her body went cold with sweat as she realized the truth in Estelle’s words. One more breath, and she knew Estelle would end her without hesitation. After what seemed like an eternity, Estelle finally released Soleil, the glass slipping from her fingers and shattering on the floor. "If there’s a next time, I won’t hesitate to drag you down with me when I die," she warned coldly. Soleil trembled, her eyes locked on Estelle, now filled with a mix of awe and fear. She had always believed that only someone from a prestigious family, like herself, could capture Bronson’s heart. But now, she realized it wasn’t someone like her, but rather someone like Estelle who could truly stir his soul. That realization sank like a stone in her chest. She stumbled back, putting distance between them, only standing tall against the wall when she was sure Estelle could no longer harm her. “I’ve met many women like you. If you truly had the courage, you’d have left him long ago. Let’s be honest, you’re after the Bradwell fortune.” Estelle couldn’t help but chuckle, finding it almost laughable. Soleil had always seemed to be driven by obsessive love, but now Estelle saw her for what she truly was: unhinged. “If you want him so badly, take him. If he wants to divorce me, I’ll be gone in an instant.” Before she could finish her sentence, a fluttering sound caught her attention. The curtain behind her stirred, and Estelle spun around instinctively, her body tensing. She froze when she saw Bronson standing there, his presence like a storm. A thin line of blood traced down his face, a reminder of something sharp that had grazed him. It only served to make his already intense, chiseled features appear even more wild, more dangerous.

"As long as I divorce you, you’ll leave immediately?" Bronson’s voice was low and controlled, each word heavy with meaning. He took a few slow, deliberate steps forward, cornering Estelle with an intensity that left no room for escape. Soleil stood by, a smug smile playing on her lips, ready to speak, but before she could utter a word, Bronson’s sharp gaze seemed to pierce through the back of his head. "Get out," he ordered, his voice cutting through the tension. Soleil’s eyes instantly welled with red-hot anger. She had never been scolded like this before. "Bronson..." "I’ll settle the score with you later," Bronson interjected coldly, his tone unforgiving. "But right now, get out of my house." His voice was ice, carrying an edge that made it clear he wasn’t to be defied. As soon as he’d left Brandon’s study, everything had clicked; he knew exactly who had informed him and Brandon about Estelle’s surgery. Soleil bit her lip, glaring at Estelle with venom, before reluctantly retreating from the terrace. Estelle’s gaze flickered downward, her mind racing. She wondered what the odds of survival might be if she were to jump from the third floor. In a heartbeat, Bronson’s arms were around her, pulling her against his chest with crushing force. He tore at her clothes, his breath hot against her ear as he whispered, "Still thinking of breaking your leg again?" "Bronson! Let go of me!" Estelle’s voice cracked with a mix of fury and panic. Behind them, the garden stood wide open, where anyone could pass by at any moment. Estelle’s frustration reached a boiling point, and she slammed her fists into Bronson’s chest, desperate to break free from his unyielding hold. But it was hopeless. Estelle could barely form a coherent thought, the pain clouding her mind. The sound of footsteps reached her ears, their voices growing louder and closer. Then, a soft gasp echoed, followed by the hurried shuffle of feet as the group quickly retreated. It felt as if her soul had slipped from her body, leaving her numb and detached. She stared blankly at the figure pinned to the terrace, her gaze drifting to the starry sky above, everything around her swirling in a disorienting haze. No matter how hard she tried, her vision refused to focus. "If you ever dare to give me to someone else again," Bronson's voice cut through the haze, "next time, I won’t hesitate to march into your company, turn the CEO's office into a fishbowl, and let all of Evergreen Valley see just how well we get along." His tone was casual, but Estelle knew him well enough to recognize the deadly seriousness in his words. ‘Why am I still alive? Could Bronson just come with me and let us both die?’ Numbly, Estelle raised her hand, her fingers trembling as she tried to strangle him, but it was all in vain. Bronson effortlessly seized her hand, lifting it to his lips and pressing a kiss to it. A wave of disgust rushed through her, and though she wanted to vomit, her stomach was empty, offering no relief. Time seemed to stretch on, the punishment relentless, until it finally came to an end. Bronson forced her gaze back to him. "Scared now?" He asked, a smirk playing on his lips. "There’s someone downstairs holding them back, so no one saw. You’re so beautiful; how could I let anyone else lay eyes on you?" Estelle glared at him, a bitter edge in her voice. "Do you want me to thank you for that?" Bronson draped his jacket over her shoulders, his tone soft and indulgent. "But I’m really angry. Starting tomorrow, you’re going to be a full-time wife. No more work, just focus on preparing for pregnancy. Don’t even think about sneaking off to your job. You’ve already been removed from the system." "No, no, that’s impossible," Estelle pleaded, clutching desperately at his shirt. "I have a court case tomorrow. You can’t do this!" Bronson’s smile remained, but Estelle’s unease spiked. "That girl’s case, right?" The words felt like ice in her veins. "I saw you’ve been burning the midnight oil over such a small matter," Bronson continued lightly. "I’ve already arranged for someone to take care of it." Estelle froze, her body trembling as a chill crept down her spine. "How did you handle it?" Bronson spoke as if he were discussing a simple task as if it were nothing more than dealing with a stray animal. "Following the usual rules in our circle," he said. "That girl’s withdrawn the case. I gave her parents a million as compensation and had someone take care of that scumbag for you. He’s a vegetable now; he won’t wake up for three to five years. You won’t have to deal with this petty stuff anymore." Estelle’s world crumbled around her. She stared at him, her mouth opening, but no sound emerged. Despair settled in her chest, suffocating her.

Bronson noticed the strange, distant look in Estelle’s eyes, and before he could process it, he was pulling her into his arms, his voice laced with concern. "Estelle, what’s wrong?" "Don’t touch me," Estelle whispered, weakly pushing him away. She wasn’t sure if she had spoken aloud, but all she could do was repeat, "Don’t touch me." Annoyance flickered in Bronson’s eyes. His grip tightened, forcing her to meet his gaze. "What’s all this fuss about? Even if the case is judged, the other side will get a maximum of three years. With their family’s influence, they might be out in less than a year. They don’t have the money to fight back. This is the best outcome. What’s bothering you?" "The best outcome?" Estelle scoffed, bitterness dripping from her voice. "People like you could never understand." With that, she raised her hand and slapped him hard across the face. Bronson tilted his head, anger flaring, his jaw tightening, ready to lash out. But before he could, Estelle’s phone rang, cutting the moment short. It was a call from Tala. Estelle immediately shoved Bronson away, her hand trembling as she answered the call. "Tala, listen to me; the case still has a chance. I…." "Sister, you’re abandoning me too." Tala’s voice carried the weight of a storm, and in that instant, Estelle understood exactly what Tala was planning. Her body went cold, her hands numb. She could barely keep hold of the phone, her fingers shaking as she managed to switch to speakerphone. "Tala, I will help you win the case. Please, trust me, just once more. I beg you." "It’s too late. No one can help me now." Before Estelle could respond, the sound of something heavy crashing echoed through the phone. Her grip faltered, and she collapsed to the floor, the weight of the moment overwhelming her. Bronson watched, his expression unreadable, as the reality of what had happened sank in. Despite all his efforts to compensate, Tala still chose this tragic end. Now, it all made sense; he understood what Estelle had been holding on to. "I’ll send someone to save her. It’s not too late!" Bronson pulled Estelle up, about to call for help when the door suddenly burst open. His assistant froze at the sight of Estelle, his mouth snapping shut as his eyes widened in surprise, the words he had meant to speak dying in his throat. Bronson’s anger surged like a storm, his voice sharp as he demanded, "What’s the hold-up? Spit it out!" "Young Master, Young Madam’s mother’s ashes were taken by Soleil. Our people followed her, but they were too late. By the time we found her, she had…" The words from the phone echoed in Estelle’s mind, but her thoughts seemed to freeze. Her heart dropped, and she felt the weight of the silence pressing down on her. "What happened?" she asked, her voice tight, unable to stop the panic that twisted in her chest. The assistant hesitated, casting a glance at Bronson before closing his eyes in resignation. "She scattered the ashes in the sea."