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Too Late, Mr. Thorne: Her Heaven, Your Hell

Chapter 3

Word Count: 844 | Released on: 16/06/2025

rieked, pointing a trembling fin

omen who looked more like b

backed brushes, and small po

shat

Clara, who had rushed in a

dam Rourk

pun on

re ques

connecting sharply

umbling back, te

body rigid. "Izzy

h, ugly sound. "It' s never en

rcus strode i

shattered items, Clara clutching

e is happening here

eanor chang

led. Tears wel

, clutchin

he was saying such cruel things. About me... about you. An

a pathetic, r

hed to Izz

alright?" He gl

meaning of this? Apo

e was li

gation. No

e condemnatio

ind devotion in his eyes for the

tion wa

Eleanor said, her v

leaning heavily

enough for everyone to hear. "She need

Marcus, her eyes

he peak of Mount Custis... the air is thin, and the path is treacherous. Only the rare

tronger, a sly e

y, perhaps she could fetch one for m

ooked at

– hesitation? Discomf

dangerous climb even in dayli

n, "that' s ask

rcus, if she' s truly sorry... It' s t

welled

He looked back at Eleanor

You hear

dread, but her fac

e them the satisf

mply n

you

base of Mount C

grim. He left her at the trailhead with a

he path, barely visible, s

began

under her feet.

of the child

n Marcus had become,

r any imagined slight against I

l flowers, I

the highest, mos

rumored to be th

mbed fo

creamed. Her

the summit,

n flowers, glowing faint

plucked one, i

own was even

ing her hands, br

eached the car, d

, battered, but s

ighted with

arrange it in a v

ained the wate

too

vase wa

came a

rew more capricio

a specific shop acros

exts for hours, until El

sage Izzy' s

face unreadable, alw

she asks. It' s not

g she save

or was now just..

or en

r. Dark circles appe

tomaton, her spirit

y grueling day of Izzy' s demand

a wave of

egs b

cold, hard floor, the

Chapter End

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Too Late, Mr. Thorne: Her Heaven, Your Hell

Xiaoxiao Yunduoer Fantasy

“My life with Marcus Thorne was a fairytale, shielded by his ruthless power and what I thought was unwavering love. He was whispered about in D.C. elite circles-powerful, ruthless, yet always gentle with me, his Eleanor. Our legendary love story began years ago when he saved me, promising protection and building our world around him. Then, at a glittering D.C. gala, chaos erupted: gunfire, and his young operative, Izzy, took a bullet meant for him. But suddenly, the devoted man I knew vanished, replaced by a cold stranger fixated on Izzy, claiming a convenient amnesia. He then insisted I donate bone marrow for her "experimental treatment," disregarding doctors' warnings about my delicate pregnancy. I endured Izzy's endless demands and his chilling indifference as our long-awaited child, conceived after years of yearning, slipped away due to the procedure. My heart shattered, watching him dote on Izzy, who relished in my public humiliation. Then, I overheard his chilling confession: his "amnesia" was a calculated lie, and our baby' s death merely a "tragic necessity" to repay his supposed debt to her. The man I married, who vowed to protect me, had deliberately sacrificed our child, our future, for a cold, calculated lie. My world collapsed, my deep love turning to ashes, leaving only a hollow, burning rage. How could the man I adored be such a monster, so casually dismissing our child' s very life? I was merely a pawn in his twisted game, living a carefully constructed deception. But I refused to be his victim anymore. With every shred of my being, I resolved to disappear, to utterly erase Eleanor Thorne and reclaim my autonomy. This time, I would emerge a phoenix, not a pawn.”