Sophia barely had a moment to catch her breath when Ethan pressed forward. He was not someone easily pushed around.
She couldn't understand why he would bring up that incident now. That memory haunted her daily, something so shameful she couldn't bear to face it. Yet here he was, forcing it to the surface.
Last night's words lingered in her mind, making her worry. Would he take them back? She feared his regret, but now, the situation left her no choice but to respond.
"What have I done wrong?" she thought bitterly. For a whole year, she had endured everything. She had buried her temper, swallowed her pride, and stayed by his side obediently, never crossing any boundaries. What more did he want from her? What behavior of hers could have upset him again?
Just a moment ago, she had thought maybe he had changed. Now, that idea felt like a cruel joke.
Sophia took a deep breath and looked up at him. Her clear eyes, usually soft, now carried a spark of defiance.
"Ethan," she said firmly, "you're being unfair. You asked me if I wanted that thing, but you already know the answer, don't you?"
Her voice trembled with anger. How could he be so manipulative? His slightly apologetic tone earlier had fooled her into thinking he wasn't the same Ethan she knew before. But now, he was using that incident to threaten her, as if she were nothing but a toy, devoid of feelings. "Unfair?" Ethan's lips curled into a smirk. "If you think this is unfair, I can be even crueler."
Every word he spoke was like a dagger, sharp and deliberate. Sophia felt a chill run through her. Had she miscalculated by standing up to him? She realized too late that there was no turning back now. She had provoked him, and there was no escape.
Before she could say anything more, Ethan leaned in, and his lips found hers. His kisses were not gentle; they were punishing, relentless, and devoid of tenderness. Each kiss felt like a reminder of her powerlessness, a reprimand for daring to stand up to him.
Heat radiated from him, engulfing her in waves. She felt trapped, unable to resist the force of his actions. These kisses weren't just physical; they seemed to strip away her pride and self-worth, leaving her vulnerable. Sophia wanted to fight back, but she couldn't. He held all the power—that thing he had was her weakness. And because of it, he could do whatever he wanted.
Ethan was cunning like a fox playing with its prey. His goal wasn't just to dominate her body but to crush her spirit. He wanted to break her completely, leaving her soul tethered to him.
"Ethan, don't make me hate you—" she tried to say, but he silenced her. His lips pressed against hers once again, as if anticipating her words. He wouldn't allow her to hate him, and he made that clear with every action.
When he finally pulled back, his voice was as calm and sharp as ever. "Sophia, do you think you can hate me before achieving what you want? Are you sure about that?"
His words seeped into her heart like poison, eroding her strength. How had things come to this? How had she fallen so far? That incident—the thing that only he had control over—was the leash binding her to him.
Sophia felt her resolve crumble. Her struggles ceased, and her voice fell silent. She didn't even try to argue with him anymore. Instead, she stood still, her body limp, her spirit drained. She looked like a puppet, lifeless and hollow, or a lamb resigned to its fate.
For the first time, Ethan's victory felt hollow. He had won, but at what cost? As he gazed at her broken form, an unfamiliar feeling stirred within him—one he couldn't quite name. Yet, he pushed it aside, determined to remain in control.