Intertwined with the billionaire

OL

lia'

ions became increasingly aggressiv

e him stop. However, he continued, fueled by his into

queeze the life out of me. Of course that was what pleased him sexually, but today's was different. In a desperate attempt to defend mysel

fearful that he would regain his strength and continue his assault. M

me repeatedly, ignoring my cries for mercy. In a desperate bid to escape, I reached for a nearby high-heeled shoe and

, cash, and credit cards. I fled the scene as quickly as possible that night,

ye back on the road after a lon

with another vehicle in front of me. T

take in my surroundings, and the familiar sights of a hospital room came into focus: the IV d

I rubbed my forehead, trying to alleviate the pain. A gentle

ed me with dread. Memories of the previous night's events came flooding back, and I felt a

upting the tense moment. "Ah, welco

id, before exiting the hospital room. The doctor helped me sit up and remov

to go back home." The doctor's expression turned concerned.

as no time. "Owen Bradley isn't who you think h

ed to kill me, I'd rather die than go back to

ant Mrs. Bradley," he said gently. The news hit me like

or," I implored, my hands clasped together. "I might not survive the next ti

ute. "How can I help?" he asked. "I hav

**

TER

n's

ith thoughts of my wife, Amelia. I couldn't shake the feeling of guilt and

but wonder if it had contributed to my actions. The memory of how I had brutally beaten A

catalyst for my outburst. But that was no excuse for taking my anger o

D displayed the name of the doctor from the hospi

or said. "How's my wife?" I ask

d," the doctor replied. I felt as t

imed, my voice rising in desperation. "

unt of blood due to the car crash and had only regained cons

r and frustration wash over me, and I lashed out, sweeping everything off m

, my mind reeling with grief and guilt. When I arrived, I was met with the devastating sight of Amelia's

hook his head. "I'm sorry, sir. There's nothing more we can do." I ran my hands through my hair, feeling helpless

NEXT

riest invited me to deliver a eulogy. My brother, Fre

red. I rose from my seat, my heart heavy w

o celebrate Amelia's life. I am certain she would have been deeply touched by your presence. There are no words that can adequatel

at, feeling a sense of inadequacy. Frederic

f my guilt was crushing me. I knew that I was responsible for Amelia's death, and th

their condolences. Amelia's parents, Mr. and Mrs. Moore, approached me, their faces e

g with anger. "I gave you my daughter, and you retur

outpouring of grief and the weight of my own guilt. I knew that I could no longer bear to remain at the funeral, surrounded by the mour

hake the feeling that a hundred thousand condol