Chapter 2

"Why is there such a foul odor?"

Vivienne covered her nose and mouth, looking at me with disgust.

I glanced down, realizing that in my extreme nervousness, I had wet myself.

In a panic, I immediately knelt on the floor mat, frantically wiping the seat with my sleeve.

"I'm sorry, I'll clean it up right away. Please, please don't hit me..."

Vivienne's brows furrowed, her tone barely concealing her revulsion: "Dashiell, can't you control your lower body at all?"

"Gunner was right about you after all."

My heart sank, ultimately dissolving into a silent, bitter laugh.

I used to be a healthy man, but it was her order that had me locked in the dungeon, subjected to endless torture.

Now that I've become like this, she still believes it's my fault.

What would it take to satisfy her?

After doing my best to dry the seat, I didn't sit back down, remaining on my knees.

Vivienne's expression grew increasingly gloomy.

"Dashiell, why are you huddling in the corner? Am I that frightening?"

"Didn't you used to love clinging to me?"

Cling to you? How could I dare?

Locked in that damp, dark dungeon, through countless moments of despair, I had always hoped Vivienne would appear before me.

But no matter how long I waited, she never came. At the beginning, when they first started torturing me, I tried to resist.

But they had sprays and tasers in their hands, instantly subduing me.

I was electrocuted until numb, and eventually I didn't even dare to think about her.

They stepped on my face with their high heels, forcing me to bark like a dog, making me lick the soles of their shoes.

"Know your place, you're just a dog, not even worthy of licking Ms. Shaw's shoes!"

They forced me to repeat humiliating words over and over.

"I'm a dog, I'm trash, I'm worthless, I'm not even worthy of licking Mr. Shaw's shoes......"

They insulted and toyed with me in different ways, making me lose control of my bladder whenever I got nervous.

The hellish torture made me afraid to have even a sliver of longing for Vivienne.

If possible, I'd rather never see her again.

Remembering those terrifying memories, my voice started to tremble: "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I was wrong......"

The car drove into the villa.

As soon as the door opened, my numb kneeling legs gave out and I fell out.

The driver, however, made no move to help me up, only respectfully saying to Vivienne: "Ms, I'll take the car to be washed." Gunner emerged from the doorway, towering over me as he said, "Young Master Gevano, how did you end up in this state?"

"Looks like you've been through quite an ordeal lately, but Vivienne only had your best interests at heart. You should be grateful to her."

"Let me help you up?"

Gunner was about to bend down, but Vivienne stopped him.

"Help him up? He's not crippled. Always playing these pointless games!"

She glared at me furiously. "Get up now, unless you want to go back to the dungeon?"

I trembled in fear, gritting my teeth against the pain as I struggled to my feet.

Those women, for their own amusement, had pulled out all my toenails and even severed my foot tendons.

Every step was excruciating.

But I was more terrified of returning to that hellish place.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Shaw, Mr. Frost. I won't dare do it again..."

Gunner's lips curled into a smug smile as he casually draped his arm over Vivienne's shoulder.

"Alright, Dashiell rarely comes home. Let's talk this out properly."

"It wouldn't be good to harbor any ill feelings, after all." Vivienne looked at me with even more disgust, as if remembering something.

"Dashiell, you'd better put aside any inappropriate thoughts. You were just locked up for a while, but Gunner had his leg broken because of you!"

"Just because he's kind enough not to hold it against you doesn't mean I've forgotten!"

When I went to pick up Gunner that time, he was the one who threw himself at my car, and I was driving so slowly it couldn't have possibly caused any harm.

But Vivienne refused to listen to my explanation, and now that I know she doesn't love me, I don't want to say much more.

For someone who isn't loved, even breathing is a mistake.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."