In the eighth year of my marriage to Adrian Monroe, he brought his little songbird home. That night, with my own two hands, I pushed the woman down the stairs. To punish me for my "unreasonable" fit of jealousy, Adrian pinned me to the floor, his foot on my back. “I told you,” he hissed, “don’t you ever touch her.” “If you can’t learn to behave, you can crawl back to the gutter you came from.” In the dead of night, I was forced onto a private jet, not even allowed a single glance at my newborn son. Three years passed before Adrian Monroe’s call finally reached my new husband. “The loan I took from your organization… could I have a little more time to liquidate some assets? I swear I’ll pay it back this time.” Hanging up, I toyed with the knife in my hand and glanced at Liam. “Time to go home and collect a debt?” I asked with a slow smile. “That’s my specialty.” … The moment I stepped off the plane, I went straight to the old Monroe estate. A woman was sobbing in the dimly lit living room. “Do you have any idea who I am? Do you have a death wish? How dare you lay a hand on the lady of the Monroe house!” Her voice was shrill with panic. “Let me go right now if you want to live…” Clad in a crimson dress, I walked toward her, my heels clicking softly on the marble floor. I slipped off my sunglasses. The woman, Isabelle, looked up, her expression a mixture of shock and derision. “Well, well. If it isn’t my dear predecessor,” she sneered. “Couldn’t make it on your own overseas? Decided to come crawling back?” “Here,” she commanded, “come untie me. The position of Mrs. Monroe is obviously filled, but for saving me, I might just offer you a job as a maid.” I obediently walked over and untied the ropes. She tilted her chin up, her eyes dripping with contempt, and held out a slender hand, expecting me to help her up. When I didn’t move, she sighed, her voice laced with lazy arrogance. “Still so clueless, aren’t you?” She never finished the sentence. I grabbed her hand and slammed it down on the edge of the heavy oak table. With a sickening crack, Isabelle crumpled to the floor, screaming in agony. “Isabelle, it seems I was too gentle with you three years ago,” I murmured, crouching down beside her. “How about we make up for it today?” Watching her face contort in pain, the knot of rage in my chest finally began to unwind. “What are you screaming for, Miss Isabelle? Isn’t it perfectly natural for a master to discipline a disobedient dog?” I grabbed her by the ankles and dragged her across the floor, a bright, genuine smile on my face. “I hear Adrian took very good care of these legs after your little fall down the stairs,” I said conversationally. “How about we break them again, just for old time’s sake?” I picked up a heavy porcelain vase from a nearby table. Isabelle, through gritted teeth, spat at me. “Sienna, you’re a goddamn lunatic.” “Adrian loves me! He’ll never let you get away with this!” Her threat only made me laugh harder, a wild, unhinged sound. “That’s right! I am a lunatic. I have been for three years now. And there’s nothing I enjoy more than destroying the things Adrian Monroe loves.” My grip loosened, and the vase plummeted. The sound I’d been longing to hear was just a moment away. “Sienna! Adrian will kill you for this!” A hand shot out and caught the vase just inches from her shins. Isabelle burst into tears of relief, her voice raw with terror as she shrieked at the man who had just saved her. “Adrian! Adrian, help me! Sienna’s trying to kill me!” Adrian tossed the vase aside and scooped Isabelle into his arms, gently placing her on the sofa. Then, he turned to me, his handsome features twisted with rage. He stalked forward and slammed me back against the table. “Sienna. Haven’t you learned your lesson?” he growled, his voice dangerously low. “Violence doesn’t suit you. You know that.” I met his gaze, those deep, intoxicating eyes that had once been my world, and instinctively tried to pull away. His grip on me only tightened, his voice turning to ice. “I sent you away to learn how to be a proper wife and mother. Don’t stray from that path.” “Understand?” he whispered. On his cue, the same bodyguards who had thrown me on that plane three years ago filed into the room, armed with long batons. They stood before me, a silent, menacing wall. Adrian gestured with a finger, and they turned their backs to us. “Sienna, have you learned how to apologize yet?” He dragged me in front of Isabelle, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Apologize to Isabelle. Keep apologizing until she forgives you.” His face was a mask of cold fury. There was no trace of affection, no hint of longing after three years apart. “Or I have a thousand ways to make you pay.” Isabelle’s face was ashen. Seeing my silence, Adrian’s patience wore thin. He forced me to my knees, his hands pressing down on my shoulders with crushing force, just like he had three years ago. Adrian had fallen in love with a ballerina. He brought her into our home without a second thought. I stood by the bed in the guest room, my eyes red-rimmed, and demanded an explanation. Adrian just held the scantily clad Isabelle tighter. “Isabelle is new here. She’s afraid to sleep alone.” “As Mrs. Monroe, you should know some basic courtesy. Show some grace.” “Sienna, it’s been eight years. Anyone would get tired.” “You have a child now. Focus on being a mother. Don’t worry, the title of Mrs. Monroe is still yours, and the family fortune will go to our son.” “Just leave Isabelle alone, and we’ll have no problems.” But the love of my youth had been a burning inferno, and I would not allow it to be extinguished. I was convinced that no matter how much of a scene I made, I would be the one to win in the end. So I ignored his warnings. With cold determination, I pushed Isabelle down the grand staircase. The air filled with the coppery scent of blood and her terrified screams. “Adrian, save me! Save our baby!” “Adrian, my legs! The pain!” That night, Isabelle lost her baby and the use of her legs. Her screams of agony echoed through the hospital for what felt like an eternity. She paid a price. But the pain I endured was a hundred times worse. In my own hospital room, the sterile scent of antiseptic making my breath catch, Adrian threw a thick stack of divorce papers at my face. “Divorce? In your dreams, Adrian. I refuse.” He clicked a pen and crouched down, his voice dangerously soft. “Sienna, you don’t have a choice in the matter anymore. You intentionally caused grievous harm. Isabelle is being generous. She’s willing to sign a letter of forgiveness, on the condition that you sign these papers.” “Think about it, Sienna,” he whispered, his voice a cruel caress. “Our son can’t have a murderer for a mother, can he?” … Back then, Adrian used our son to control me. But now, he had no leverage left. I wrenched free from his grip and threw my arms around his neck, my voice a seductive whisper in his ear. “Adrian, did you miss me?” “Because these last three years, I’ve been thinking about you every single second.” Sensing a shift in my demeanor, his expression softened slightly. “I missed you too, Sienna. It’s good to have you back. Just apologize to Isabelle, and we can start over.” My eyes welled with tears as I rested my head on his chest, my voice choked with emotion. “Do I really have to apologize?” “Maybe… I can apologize in a different way.” Adrian smiled down at me. The next second, he felt a warm, wet sensation on his wrist. I pulled out a silk handkerchief and calmly wiped the blood from the blade of a small, sharp knife. “Adrian, wasn’t this the hand you used to force me to sign those papers?” “So? Do you like my apology?” The bodyguards surged forward, but Adrian barked at them. “All of you, get out! How much trouble can one woman cause?” He quickly ripped a strip from his shirt and tied it around his bleeding wrist, his voice trembling with a mixture of pain and excitement. “Sienna, it seems you learned a few new tricks overseas. Come on, show me what other surprises you have for me.” Before I could react, he lunged, snatching the knife from my hand. He leaned in close, his breath hot on my skin. “You know, Sienna, I find this new version of you… fascinating. Why don’t you play a little game with me? If you entertain me enough, I might just consider letting you go.” From the sofa, Isabelle, clutching her broken hand, shrieked at me. “Sienna! Three years ago, you pushed me down those stairs! The doctors said I could never have children again! Adrian told me not to hold a grudge against a madwoman, but why? Why won’t you just leave me alone?” “Let me tell you something, Sienna! Adrian is my husband now! If you dare try to seduce him, I won’t show you any mercy! If I hadn’t signed that forgiveness letter, you’d be rotting in prison right now!” The girl who once did nothing but cry in Adrian’s arms was now spitting threats with righteous indignation. I shoved Adrian away, my laughter echoing through the room. “Isabelle, I don’t need your forgiveness.” I snatched the knife back from the floor and, in a flash, plunged it into her other hand, pinning it to the sofa cushion before slowly dragging the blade across her skin. A spray of crimson arced through the air. I turned and met Adrian’s panicked eyes. He shoved me to the ground and rushed to Isabelle’s side, scooping her up. “Isabelle, don’t be scared. I’m taking you to the hospital.” As he carried her out, he threw a command over his shoulder to the bodyguards. “Don’t hurt her. Just bring her to me. Alive.” Adrian waited outside the emergency room for ten agonizing hours, refusing to eat or drink. And for ten hours, I was bound to a chair right beside him. His breaking point came when a nurse handed him a critical condition notice. His fury finally exploded.
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