Kim_Li_0078

#DARK ROMANCE 
Lin Yueyao spent five years of her youth married to Shen Xiao, a man whose heart was as cold as steel. She believed that her gentleness would eventually melt his indifference, but the only thing that melted was her own dignity.

Every night, she endured his cruel touch, his words like blades, and his silent disgust. But no matter how much it hurt, Yueyao clung on – for the sake of their son, Xuanxuan, and for the sliver of hope that someday he might see her.

That hope shattered completely when his first love, Bai Zhi, returned from abroad. The very night Bai Zhi came back, Shen Xiao left Yueyao alone to dine with her. His gaze, once cold and dismissive, turned tender only for Bai Zhi.

Then, just as Yueyao discovered she was pregnant again, Shen Xiao handed her divorce papers. Abandoned while carrying his child, betrayed by her husband, and discarded like a stain on his life, Yueyao’s world collapsed.

Even their son, Xuanxuan – the little boy she’d nearly died giving birth to, the one she raised with unwavering devotion – rejected her, clinging instead to Bai Zhi with innocent adoration.

But fate was crueler still.

Kidnapped straight from her hospital bed by men demanding ransom, Yueyao realised no one was coming to save her. Her husband hadn’t even noticed she was missing. As she lay in that abandoned factory, trembling in pain, all illusions crumbled.

She was done waiting for love from a man who treated her like dirt.

This time, she would save herself. And when she returned, it wouldn’t be as the pitiful Mrs. Shen, but as a woman reborn from ashes – with a heart no longer beating for Shen Xiao.

But will he realise her worth only when it’s too late?

Love After Divorce: Her Second Chance

"Maybe we will just send them your fingers first to prove we are serious."

He slammed the door behind him, plunging the room back into hollow silence.

Yueyao's shoulders shook with silent sobs as she bowed her head against the cold floor. Her tears fell, mixing with the dirt and grit beneath her cheek.

In that dim prison, with her body aching and her dignity stripped raw, only one thought burned in her mind:

"Please… don't let them hurt Aunt Mei… don't let them hurt my son… please…"

But the universe offered no mercy.

Two men grabbed her by her arms and dragged her to the centre of the room.

Her knees scraped against the rough concrete, peeling the fragile scabs off her skin until blood smeared the floor beneath her. Her surgical wound was also bleeding.

"Let's see how long she lasts," one of them sneered, pulling out a small, thin metal rod from his back pocket.

He held a lighter to it, heating the rod until it glowed orange-red.

The other man forced her head back, gripping her jaw so hard she felt her teeth rattle.

Her pleas were ignored. The glowing rod pressed against her collarbone with a sizzling hiss.

The scent of her own burning flesh filled her nose as a guttural scream ripped from her throat, echoing off the cracked walls.

Tears streamed down her face as she writhed in agony, her restraints biting deeper into her raw wrists.

One of them took out a small utility knife, flicking the blade open with a snap.

He dragged the edge slowly across her upper arm, not deep enough to sever muscle but enough to slice the skin open in thin, neat lines.

Blood oozed out, dripping onto the floor in slow, fat drops.

Her vision swam as she choked on sobs, her body trembling uncontrollably.

"Stop… please… I will do anything… please…"

But her broken pleas only amused them further. They continued for hours, burning her, cutting her, slapping her face repeatedly until her lips split and her left eye swelled shut.

When they finally left her alone, her body felt like it was no longer hers. Every nerve burned with pain so fierce she couldn't even cry anymore.

The only sound in the room was her ragged, broken breathing and the drip… drip… drip… of her blood hitting the cement floor.

The men didn't call anyone for the first two days.

They fed Yueyao stale crusts of bread, pushing them into her mouth with such force that her lips cracked and bled. Water was poured down her throat roughly, just enough to keep her alive.

Every few hours, one of them would come in to check her restraints, their cold eyes scanning her trembling form like she was nothing but rotting meat.

She spent those days in and out of consciousness, drifting between fevered nightmares and the bone-deep ache of her bruised body.

Her arms were tied behind her back so tightly she lost all feeling in her fingers. Her gown was damp with sweat, blood, and the filth of the floor.

On the third day, they dragged her up by her hair, ripping out clumps of it from her scalp.

Her head lolled forward, too weak to hold itself up, and tears spilled from her swollen eyes as pain lanced through her entire body.

"Smile for the camera," one of them sneered, slapping her cheek until her face turned to the phone he held up.

The flash burned her vision as he took photo after photo of her bruised, broken face.

Chapter 18; Smile for the camera