Three years of marriage, three years of effort—shattered the moment she stepped back into his life.
I snapped back to the present just as Connor waved Duncan off impatiently. “Tell her if she doesn’t come out now, she can rot in that well for another month.”
Duncan visibly flinched but did not move to follow the order.
Connor’s voice sharpened, laced with undeniable authority. “Why are you still standing there? Or do you want to join her too?”
Duncan trembled and backed away quickly as Connor turned, slipping a possessive arm around Belinda’s waist.
“Belinda, don’t go easy on her when she comes out. Make her apologize to you. I don’t care if she’s Luna. She needs to learn what happens when she crosses someone I care about.”
“Clara… you really think this little stunt will fool me?” Connor’s words were barely audible, and within them, a subtle, almost swallowed hesitation.
As the minutes passed, his patience began to wear thin.
“Why is it taking so long? Is she still testing me?” A sharp edge crept into Connor’s voice, betraying his annoyance.
“I’ll see what she’s doing,” he stated, his voice a chilling blend of coldness and suppressed rage. Connor then marched toward the well. But as he neared the well’s edge, a revolting odor assaulted his senses.
His brow creased in disgust, and his golden eyes flashed with revulsion. “What is that stench?”
Connor’s tone turned sharp and demanding. “Clara, what are you doing? I’m letting you out, and you’re still refusing? What, planning to live down there forever?”
He stepped closer, peering into the darkness. Moonlight streamed in, illuminating the bottom.
And then he saw it.
My lifeless body lay there, still and broken—like a discarded, ruined doll.
