A Silken Blade to His Heart

Damian Vance, the heir to Aurelia Citys most powerful family, had a fight with his childhood sweetheart. Crying, she boarded a flight overseas.
Furious and soon regretful, Damian ordered the plane to be grounded immediately.
However, there was a passenger on board in critical condition. The pilot and the flight director, under immense pressure, chose to continue the flight as scheduled.
When the plane landed, the young woman, Clara, ignored all warnings and wandered off alone. She was cornered and assaulted by local thugs, and when Damian finally found her, she was injured.
Three days later, the pilot and the flight director were found dead in an alley. Their end was gruesome, a scene so horrific no one dared to intervene. Their bodies were left to be torn apart by stray dogs, leaving nothing behind.
Five years later, I curled into Damians arms, my eyes red-rimmed as I watched the woman across from us, his wife, break down in utter despair.
"I'm sorry, Damian, darling," I whispered. "I just wanted to say a few words to my sister"
Damian soothed me with one hand while casting a careless glance at his wife.
"Don't make a scene, Clara. The title of Mrs. Vance will always be yours." His voice was a silken blade. "But a man needs a little novelty now and then."

The first time Clara Morgan completely lost control and tried to strike me was when Damian brought me to her mothers hospital room.
The moment her father saw me, he exploded. He screamed that I was a homewrecker who deserved a miserable death and, when Damian wasn't looking, he hoisted a chair to smash over my head.
"You little slut! How dare you show your face here!"
Damian was faster. He intercepted the chair with a sharp crack of wood against his arm. After wrestling Claras father out of the room, he left me alone with her mother.
Clara wasn't there. Her mother lay on the bed, her breathing as faint as a thread.
"Clara" she rasped. "Water"
I pressed my lips together, a small, knowing smile playing on them as I walked over. "Here you are, Mrs. Morgan. Drink up."
Through the window, Damian watched my display of gentle obedience with a look of deep satisfaction. It only hardened his expression as he dealt with the struggling man in the hallway.
Mrs. Morgan managed to force her eyes open. When she saw it was me, her face contorted in horror. With a surge of adrenaline, she shoved me away.
I stumbled backward, unprepared, and fell to the floor. A shard of glass from a fallen vase sliced into my calf, and blood began to well up, staining my skin a brilliant crimson.
"You're so young," she wheezed, her voice trembling with rage. "Couldn't you learn to be a decent person? Don't you know that home-wreckers like you are cursed by God?"
"And now now" she gasped, "you come here to torment my family!"
"Get out! Don't let my Clara see you!" At the thought of her daughter, her eyes filled with tears.
When I didn't move, just sat there on the floor, she grew frantic and tried to get out of bed. Her breaths came in ragged, desperate gasps, like a broken accordion.
Then, she collapsed onto the floor.
Just at that moment, Clara walked in, carrying a bowl of soup. The scene that greeted her made her freeze. After helping her mother back into bed, she wiped the tears from her own face, walked over to me, and poured the entire bowl of hot soup over my head.
"I have turned a blind eye for so long," she hissed, her body trembling like a leaf in a storm. "Why? Why must you come here and torture my parents?"
She stood there, a fragile white flower braving a hurricane, both delicate and unyielding.
My voice was a choked sob, tears streaming down my face. "Sister, I was just worried you couldn't handle taking care of your mother all alone. I wanted to help"
"I'm so sorry, I didn't know"
She ignored me. Behind her, her mothers condition worsened, and the heart monitor began to shriek a piercing alarm. Shaking, Clara fumbled for the call button.
The door flew open, but the incoming team of doctors was stopped dead in their tracks, held back by an invisible wall.
Damian strode in and swept me into his arms, his face a mask of concern.
"Clara," he said, his voice dangerously low. "Apologize to Maya."
For a moment, a flash of defiance lit up Claras eyes. She grabbed the bouquet of flowers I had brought, tore them to shreds, and threw the ruined petals at us.
"Damian, do you have any idea why my mother is in this hospital in the first place? It was you! You make me sick," she spat. "Get out. Both of you, just get out!"
The outburst drained her completely. She crumpled to the floor, a heap of helpless despair. Damian remained unnervingly calm, utterly unmoved by her breakdown. His only concern was me, his fingers gently probing my injuries.
When he discovered the gash on my leg, his gaze on Clara turned to ice.
"Are you done with your tantrum?" he asked coldly. "If you are, get up. Don't you find this embarrassing?"
The doctors, though they dared not enter, were getting an eyeful. I could feel their veiled, contemptuous glances on me.
Clara pointed a trembling finger at the door. "Get out! Didn't you hear me? I said get out!"
Damian just smiled, a chilling, indifferent curve of his lips. "Clara, you need to think very carefully. If I leave"
He walked over to her mother, who was now convulsing on the bed, and his hand closed around the tube of her ventilator.
The monitors alarm blared even louder, more insistent. But without Damians permission, no one dared to set foot inside the room. Gasps of horror echoed from the hallway, but no one moved to stop him.
The look in Claras eyes shifted, a rapid, horrifying kaleidoscope of shock, agony, and finally, a dead, hollow numbness.
Everyone watched as the woman Damian had once spoiled into Aurelia Citys most celebrated socialite, the woman who had everything, slowly, inexorably, sank to her knees. Under the desperate, pleading eyes of her parents, she knelt before me.
"Miss Maya I'm sorry." Her voice was a ghost of itself. "I shouldn't have misunderstood your kindness. I shouldn't have yelled at you. I shouldn't have thrown the soup on you."
"Please, forgive me."
She bowed her head, breaking her own spine.
She had surrendered to Damian.
Satisfied, his expression softened. "See, Clara? I told you. If you just behave, we can still have a good life together." He stroked my hair. "Maya is very sweet and understanding. She heard your mother was in the hospital and insisted on coming to visit. She's no threat to your position."
His gentle, placating words were like a series of sharp slaps across Claras face. But she could only keep her head down, all fight gone from her. Everything she had, everything she was, was a gift from Damian. And just like his hand on her mothers lifeline, he could take it all away.
If she didn't bow, her mother would die.
From that day on, Clara accepted her reality. She became the docile, obedient wife Damian wanted. She submitted to his every demand. She swallowed every one of my provocations, each one a slow, twisting knife in her gut.
Damian was a man of particular habits. He liked to be clean. After we made love, he insisted on washing up before starting again. He had insatiable stamina, and our nights were often long. Which meant I had to shower several times a night.
One evening, exhausted, I slipped in the bathroom and twisted my ankle. Damian was beside himself with worry. Then, he came up with a "perfect" solution.
From then on, whenever we were together, he made Clara wait outside the bedroom door.
Each time we finished, she had to come in and help me wash.
I saw it countless times: her trembling hands, her red-rimmed eyes, the raw hatred simmering just beneath the surface. The woman who wanted nothing more than to tear me to pieces was forced to serve me like a maid.
She learned her lesson the first time. Distraught and clumsy, she had accidentally scalded me.
"Damian, darling, don't blame her," I had cried, my voice laced with feigned panic. "It wasn't her fault, I was just being careless."
But the fear in my eyes as I looked at Clara betrayed my words.
Damians fury was explosive. He knew Clara's weakness. He didnt punish her directly. He punished her father.
That night, her father was dragged behind a car for a mile.
The torture only stopped when Clara knelt and begged me, banging her head on the floor until it was bruised and bloody. It only stopped when she took a shard of glass and carved matching wounds onto her own body.
She had no choice.
Day by day, the light in her eyes grew dimmer, until it was almost gone.
Then, one day, she met another man.
Clara had been running a high fever, but I had a craving for a specific cake. She went out into the pouring rain to buy it for me, and on the way back, she collapsed.
When she woke up, she was in a hospital. A man was sitting by her bedside, and it was clear he had been there all night.
It wasn't her husband, Damian. It was a stranger.
When he saw she was awake, he stirred. He was holding an insulated food container, and by some twist of fate, it held her favorite dish: shrimp congee.
As she ate, tears began to silently stream down her face.
They didn't speak much. She only learned his name was Liam Blackwood.
It was a name she would never forget.
From that day forward, it was as if the gears of fate had started to turn, pulling them both onto the same path. Whether she was at her weakest, her most broken, or feeling a glimmer of hope after her mothers condition improved slightly, she would find him there, a quiet, constant presence in her life.
He shared her pain and her joy, and in doing so, became the pillar that held up her crumbling world.
One day, she gathered the courage to ask him the question that had been burning in her heart. "Do you have feelings for me?"
Liam had always been reserved, almost shy, around her. But this time, he didn't hide it.
He simply nodded.
In that moment, Clara felt as though a ray of light had finally pierced the suffocating darkness of her life. Her heart pounded in her chest.
But then, her eyes fell on the date on her phone.
Tomorrow was her wedding anniversary with Damian.
Somehow, inexplicably, she didn't answer Liam. She went home, clinging to one last, desperate shred of hope.
The sounds of my panting moans drifted from the master bedroom. She closed her eyes in disgust. When she opened them again, she saw two plane tickets on the table.
They were for the island where she and Damian had spent their honeymoon. The place they had promised to return to every year on their anniversary.
"He remembered..." she whispered.
Her heart, which she thought was dead, fluttered for him once more. She remembered Damian's words, that he still loved her, that his affair with me was just a passing fancy.
Maybe, if she could just endure a little longer, everything would go back to the way it was.
That night, for the first time in a long time, Clara slept soundly.
The next morning, she dressed herself in Damian's favorite style, her heart full of nervous anticipation. But when she went downstairs, the house was empty.
The tickets were gone.
Just then, a new post appeared on my Instagram feed.
[He was hesitant about this island at first when I suggested it, but what my baby wants, my baby gets! Were off!]
[The price was a whole night of punishment from Damian though hehehe]
The picture was of me, nestled in Damians arms, holding up the two plane tickets and making a peace sign.
Clara felt like the biggest fool in the world. A wave of nausea washed over her, and she ran to the bathroom, vomiting until there was nothing left.
But she didn't have time to be heartbroken.
Her phone rang. It was the hospital.
"Miss Morgan? Your mother just went into cardiac arrest!"
On the plane, I was leaning against Damian, watching the clouds drift by, when I overheard a heated argument from the cockpit.
"Are you insane? Ground the plane now!"
"Just shut up! Have you forgotten what happened last time?"
"But there's a world-renowned surgeon on this flight..."
"There's no patient in critical condition on this flight! The order came from his wife! You might not value your life, but I value mine!"
A moment later, the plane began to veer sharply off course. The sudden change in direction sent us straight into a flock of birds. Blood and feathers exploded against the window in front of my eyes.
I screamed and fainted in Damians arms.
When I woke up, Damian's voice, thick with rage, was ringing in my ears, intertwined with Clara's hysterical sobs and pleas.
"Damian, I'm begging you! Please, let my mother down!"
"No! Please, no!"
I was in a spacious, comfortable van. When I opened the window, I had a clear view of the scene unfolding on the ocean.
It was a vision from hell.
Clara's parents were being dangled from a helicopter, spinning endlessly over the water. Below them, the dark shapes of sharks circled. Men on the helicopter were tossing chum and bloody animal parts into the sea. Some of it landed on Claras parents, some of it was snapped up by the sharks.
Some of the sharks leaped high out of the water, their jaws snapping just inches from her parents' feet.
Clara's face was utterly devoid of color. She had lost count of how many times she had kowtowed to Damian. But he just stroked her head, his voice deceptively gentle. "Clara, you've been a very bad girl. I spoiled you too much."
"Your mother wasn't that sick. When I went to see her, she was energetically cursing Maya with you. She was faking it. I don't believe you couldn't see that. So why use that as an excuse to ground my plane? Do you have any idea how long Maya was unconscious from the shock?"
"This," he said, gesturing to the horrific scene, "is just an equal punishment. When you do something wrong, you have to be punished."
"Don't worry," he added with a chilling smile. "They're all animal experts. They know what they're doing. Nothing will go wrong."
Clara could only shake her head, her words choked with tears. "We didn't lie to you... we didn't..."
But Damian no longer believed her. She couldn't fathom how the man who had once grounded a plane for her, who had flown into a rage over a tiny scratch, could now torture her like this for another woman.
Suddenly, two of the sharks went into a frenzy.
They leaped from the water, their jaws clamping down on her parents' legs.
Her parents' mouths were gagged, but their eyes were wide with unimaginable agony. The men in the helicopter, fearing the sharks would drag them down, frantically cut the ropes.
"NO"
By the time Clara's mind registered what was happening, her parents had been dragged under the waves. The dark water churned, and then, a massive bloom of crimson spread across the surface.
Claras scream was a sound that could have shattered the sky.
Even Damian seemed stunned for a moment.
In that instant, Clara found a surge of superhuman strength. She broke free from the men holding her and ran to the edge of the deck.
Against the light, she was a broken silhouette.
"Damian," she whispered, her voice a hollow echo. "If this is what you wanted."
Then, right before his eyes, she leaped from the deck, into the blood-red water where her parents had vanished.
It was only then that Damian seemed to snap out of his trance. His heart felt like it had been hit by a sledgehammer.
"NO" he roared, his voice cracking.
"CLARA"

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