My Husband Begged for My Love after Destroying MeChapter 1
I was on my knees on the concrete floor when the freight elevator creaked open behind us.
Wind slammed against my face, but I didn’t flinch. Nothing mattered anymore not when my little brother, Aziel, stood bound and trembling near the edge of that skeletal crane arm.
“Three seconds, baby,” Hakeem said from the chair he dragged up here, “Sign that statement, forgive Margaret, and your brother walks out of here alive. Don’t test me. You know I don’t bluff.”
My palms were shaking, but my heart was a war drum in my chest. Aziel looked so small up there, tied to a rusted pipe, his wide eyes darting from the edge to me.
“H-Harmony,” he whimpered, “Why are we up so high? Can we go home now?”
“Hakeem,” I choked, looking up at the man I married. The man I thought would never let anyone hurt my family. “Margaret burned my mother alive. She locked her inside the house and set it on fire like it meant nothing. My mother is dead. Aziel is all I have left—he has special needs, and you're using him to protect your mistress? Do you even hear yourself? Do you remember what he means to me?”
He leaned forward, brushing a hand over my hair like I was a dog he was proud of. I wanted to bite him.
“Sweetheart,” he murmured, “When you started threatening charges, did it ever cross your mind how much she means to me? How far would I go for her?”
He arched a brow at me…Then he started counting again.
“Two.”
Panic ripped through my chest. I could barely see straight. This man… this monster… I gave him everything. Eight years. My name. My body. My soul. I thought I was his world.
Maybe I was.
Until she came back from the dead.
I clutched the hem of his slacks, trembling. “Let her say sorry. Just let me hear it. She murdered my mother… Let me hear her admit it.”
He scoffed, “She said she's not the one who burned your mother. That’s the end of it. She’s not suffering with PTSD, Harmony. You think I don’t see that? I asked you for compassion. You couldn’t give me that. You really let me down.”
I stared up at him, and I knew. Right there, I knew. There was no fixing this. No forgiveness. No version of this story where he loved me anymore.
I swallowed the taste of bile and whispered, “I’ll… I’ll sign. Just don’t kill him. Please.”