Broken

"Sleep with me."

Seraphina's world tilted. For a moment, she thought she had misheard him, that the weight pressing down on her chest was simply her own exhaustion playing tricks on her mind.

But no. He had said it.

Adrian Thornfield sat across from her, his expression eerily blank, his presence suffocating. He wasn't smirking. He wasn't taunting.

His eyes, however, had darkened, twin pools of quiet destruction.

Seraphina's fingers curled into trembling fists at her sides. She forced herself to breathe, to remain standing, to not crumble beneath the weight of his words. She had come here expecting nothing good, but she hadn't expected this.

"Wh…what did you say?" Her voice barely made it past her lips.

Did he really say that? Her Ad-...no, he's not her anymore but did he really say that to her? He didn't even ask why she needed the money. He didn't care. He hates her and wants to humiliate her for all the things she did to him.

He wants revenge…

Adrian didn't blink. "I said sleep with me, and I'll give you money."

Each word was a dagger, carving away at the last shreds of her dignity.

Her stomach churned, shame crawling up her spine like a living thing. This was worse than she had imagined, worse than she had prepared for.

But Elara needed the surgery.

And Seraphina had nothing left to bargain with. She swallowed hard. "H…how much will you give me?"

A flicker of something… shock, disappointment, disgust, crossed Adrian's face before his expression steeled.

"Are you seriously putting a price on your body? Are you that shameless?" He sneered in disgust.

There it was. The humiliation she had braced for, the judgment she had expected.

She forced herself to meet his gaze. "Yes, I am, Mr. Thornfield." Her voice didn't break. Her gaze didn't move. That was something.

Adrian exhaled sharply, his jaw clenching. She could see the muscles ticking beneath his skin.

"How much do you need?" he asked, getting up from his chair and walking toward her with slow and predatory steps.

Seraphina felt sick. Every part of her wanted to run, to take back the words, to never have let it come to this. But she had no choice. Her voice was barely above a whisper. "One million and sixty hundred thousand dollars."

Silence.

She could see the precise moment the words registered, the way Adrian's fingers tightened around his palm. His face didn't change, but his eyes…his eyes burned with something volatile, something that told her she had gone too far, that she had crossed a line even he hadn't expected her to cross.

But did she have any other options? No…

Then, slowly, he leaned forward, his voice quiet, deadly. "I didn't know my wife was so low-priced."

She flinched.

She heard something in her breaking but she didn't show that on her face, she wouldn't give him that satisfaction, but inside, the words carved through her like a blade.

Wife.

He was mocking the ring on her finger which she didn't realize she was wearing until then. Who put it on her finger? Why is it so perfectly fitted? She looked up at him with blank eyes.

"Oh, so you are used to sleeping with more expensive women." She mocked back, trying to inflect at least a bit of the pain he did to her.

She forced herself to stand her ground. To act as though this was a negotiation, as though she were nothing more than a desperate woman selling what she had left to sell.

She prayed…prayed that he would refuse. That he would sneer in disgust and throw her out. That he would decide she wasn't worth the trouble.

But Adrian Thornfield was not a man who let others dictate his choices. And she never knew this side of Adrian.

And in that moment, she saw it, the way his disappointment twisted into something colder, something sharper. He had wanted her to say she was joking. He had wanted her to laugh it off, to take it back.

But she hadn't.

And now, he would make sure she regretted it.

Without a word, he stood.

Seraphina barely had time to react before his fingers closed around her wrist, unyielding, possessive, as if claiming his purchase.

She looked at him with widened eyes. Her breath hitched. "Adrian-..!"

But he wasn't listening.

He pulled her toward the elevator, his grip like iron. The air between them crackled with something unreadable, anger, hatred, something far worse. His steel grip was almost giving her a bruise but no matter how hard she tried to pull her hand out, he wouldn't budge.

The elevator doors slid open. The penthouse at the top floor awaited. And Seraphina Vale had never felt so trapped in her life.

Seraphina trembled as he pushed her inside the bedroom, a shiver of anticipation and fear coursing through her. "Adrian," she breathed, eyes wide and pleading.

"Silence, Seraphina," he growls. His gaze burns with the same intensity as the fire behind him.

His hand grips her throat, tilting her chin upwards. His lips crash onto hers. His tongue delves into her mouth, exploring every inch as if claiming it.

Adrian's free hand cups her breast, squeezing roughly before moving downwards. It snakes under her skirt, tugging harshly at the delicate fabric of her panties until they rip away from her body. He pulls back from her and pushes her on the bed where she fell on her back, without much resistance.

"You'll regret this, Seraphina Vale."

____

THE NEXT MORNING

Adrian woke up with a start. For the first few seconds his brain still didn't register his surroundings but something felt wrong.

Then suddenly he turned around and everything from yesterday came back to him. Beside him, Seraphina lay motionless, her gaze fixed on the ceiling, blank and unseeing. The sheets barely covered her, her bare shoulders stiff, her breathing eerily even.

Adrian's stomach twisted.

She didn't sleep…!

Last night, she had given in to him, but not in the way she used to in the past, not with love, not with warmth. It had been desperation, a deal sealed in whispers and unspoken pain. And now, in the pale morning light, she looked… broken.

Something deep in his chest clenched.

He wanted to reach for her, to say something…anything…to wipe that vacant look from her face. But what could he possibly say? That for all his anger, all his bitterness, he still couldn't stand seeing her like this?

His fingers curled into fists, nails biting into his palm.

No. He wouldn't let himself be weak. He convinced himself that she deserved this!

Instead, he sat up, cold detachment sliding back into place like armor.

"Get dressed," he said, his voice sharp, unforgiving.

Seraphina didn't react right away. Then, slowly, she turned her head to look at him. Her dark eyes were devoid of tears, but they held something far worse…an emptiness that made his gut twist all over again.

She didn't fight. Didn't argue.

Just slid out of bed, moving like a ghost, her steps soundless as she picked up her dress from the floor.

Adrian forced himself to look away.

This was what he wanted, wasn't it?

To push her till the end of her limits and drop her in front of her own eyes. To make sure she can never look up at herself.

Then why did it feel like he had just carved something out of himself in the process?

"Take the money and never show your face to me again." He said as he threw the check to her feet. She didn't even flinch when he spoke.

A bitter smile flickered across her lips.

She bent down, picked up the check and met his gaze fully for the first time that morning. Her blank eyes trying hard to hide the tears while the smile on her face threw a dagger to his chest. But little did he know that her last words to him before she left would haunt him like a nightmare.

"May death take me before I have to face you again, Adrian Thornfield."