Abigail's Despair

Abigail sat in her luxurious office, her hands trembling as she clutched the divorce papers that Joshua had handed her. The bold signature of "Samuel Knight" stared back at her like a mockery of her control over him. Her fury boiled over as she slammed the papers onto her desk.

"This can't be happening!" she snapped, her voice venomous. "He was supposed to suffer, to live in despair! Not… this!"

Joshua, standing beside his sister Maria, crossed his arms and leaned back against the desk with a smug expression. "Well, Abigail," he began, "it looks like your little game didn't go as planned. Samuel—no, Red—isn't the same person anymore. In fact, he's barely human now."

Abigail's sharp eyes darted to Joshua. "What do you mean?" she demanded.

Joshua smirked, clearly enjoying the moment. "I mean, he has mechanical limbs. He's more machine than man now. You've seen his coldness, his detachment. I'd wager that whatever happened to him, it changed his anatomy, physiology, and most importantly, his psychology."

Abigail's expression faltered for a moment, her mind racing as she processed this revelation. "Mechanical limbs…" she muttered, almost to herself. "How… how could this happen to him? And why is he acting so… indifferent? How dare he think he can just walk away from me, sleeping with whomever he wants?" Her voice rose as her frustration spilled out.

Maria, standing silently until now, finally spoke up. "Abigail," she said coldly, "maybe it's time to let go. You've tormented him enough. Clearly, he's found a way to rise above it. He's not the man you thought you could control."

Abigail shot Maria a glare that could pierce through steel. "Let go? Let go?" she repeated, her tone icy. "You think I'll just let him walk away after everything? No. He's mine to torment. I'll bring him back to his knees, no matter what it takes. He won't escape me, Maria. Mark my words."

Joshua chuckled darkly. "You're delusional, Abigail. That man isn't the Samuel you used to toy with. He's colder, stronger, and more ruthless now. And if he's become this 'Red,' as people say, then you should be careful. He might not play your games anymore."

Abigail clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. "We'll see about that," she hissed. "I'll find out what happened to him, how he became this… machine. And when I do, I'll make him remember who he belongs to."

Joshua shook his head and straightened up, motioning for Maria to follow him. "Do what you want, Abigail," he said as he walked toward the door. "Just don't say I didn't warn you when this blows up in your face."

As the door closed behind them, Abigail sat back in her chair, her mind swirling with anger, jealousy, and a twisted determination. Samuel's transformation wasn't just a physical change—it was a challenge to her authority, her power over him.

Her eyes narrowed as she made a silent vow to herself. "I'll make you mine again, Samuel. And this time, you'll wish you'd never defied me."

Abigail was seated in the corner of a high-end café, her hand gripping the cup of coffee so tightly it threatened to shatter. Her eyes narrowed as the bell above the café door jingled, and in walked Samuel.

Her heart stopped for a brief moment. But what caught her attention more was the woman beside him—Cassandra, a striking beauty with an air of confidence. Abigail felt her blood boil as she watched Samuel wrap his arm around Cassandra's waist, pulling her close as though she were a prized possession.

Samuel's sharp eyes met Abigail's across the room, and a sly smirk spread across his face. It was deliberate. Every movement, every glance—he was making a show of it, and Abigail knew it.

Samuel leaned closer to Cassandra, his voice deliberately loud enough for Abigail to hear. "You know," he began, brushing a strand of Cassandra's hair behind her ear, "it's on paper that I'm married, but I'd say there's nothing really special about my so-called wife. Wouldn't you agree, Cassandra?"

Cassandra giggled softly, leaning into him as though Abigail weren't even there. "Well, Samuel," she purred, "it sounds like you're far too good for her. Maybe she didn't know how to appreciate what she had."

Abigail's nails dug into her palms, the pain grounding her as rage surged within her. She clenched her jaw, determined not to give Samuel the satisfaction of seeing her snap.

Samuel, however, wasn't done. He turned slightly, ensuring Abigail had a clear view as he brushed his fingers along Cassandra's cheek. "You see," he said in a low, teasing tone, "it's refreshing to be around someone who doesn't bring constant drama into my life. Someone who knows how to enjoy the moment… unlike certain people I know."

Abigail's composure cracked slightly, her glare intensifying as she watched the scene unfold. Samuel was playing a game, and she hated that he was winning.

Cassandra tilted her head, giving Abigail a fleeting glance before turning back to Samuel. "Well, I'm glad I can be that someone for you," she said with a smile.

Samuel chuckled, his eyes glinting with amusement as he glanced back at Abigail. "Oh, I have no doubt about that," he said, his smirk widening.

Unable to take it anymore, Abigail stood abruptly, her chair screeching against the floor. All eyes in the café turned to her, but she didn't care.

"Enjoy your little game, Samuel," she said coldly, her voice sharp enough to cut through the tension. "But don't think for a second that this changes anything."

Samuel raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Oh, I'm not playing any games, Abigail," he said casually, tightening his hold on Cassandra's waist. "I'm just enjoying my freedom. Something I've earned, wouldn't you agree?"

Abigail's lips tightened into a thin line. Without another word, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the café, her heart pounding with a mix of fury and humiliation.

As the door closed behind her, Samuel let out a soft chuckle and leaned back in his seat, looking at Cassandra. "Well," he said with a grin, "that was entertaining."

Cassandra tilted her head, curiosity flickering in her eyes. "Do you really hate her that much?"

Samuel's smirk faded slightly, his expression turning cold. "Hate her? No," he said flatly. "I'm just showing her that I'm not the same man she used to control. And that she can't touch me anymore."

With that, he leaned back into his chair, satisfied that he had sent his message loud and clear.