A sense of dread crept over Niamh, a primal urge to run making her heart race.
But as she spun around, Jonathan slammed the bedroom door shut behind her with a loud bang.
He hoisted her slender frame off the floor. Despite her desperate struggling, he flung her onto the bed.
Clutching her collar tight, eyes red–rimmed with fear, Niamh glared at him, wary and trembling. Jonathan couldn’t help but laugh.
“Niamh, as long as we’re still married, you’re my lawful wife.”
To Niamh, Jonathan looked like a starving predator. Wide–eyed, she watched as he shrugged off his suit jacket and started unbuttoning his shirt.
“I don’t want this! You can’t force me!” Her cry was more a broken plea, her voice shaking despite her effort to sound fierce.
“Oh, but I can.”
Without another word, Jonathan lunged for her.
Niamh curled up beneath him, shaking like a frightened animal, her toes digging into the sheets, her body taut with terror.
Three years of marriage, and she’d always gone along with him in the bedroom. Inevitably, it had grown stale.
But tonight, something was different. Her resistance only seemed to intrigue him
more.
“So this is your new way of tempting me, huh?” he said, an edge of amusement in
his voice.
Jonathan peeled away her clothes, one piece at a time. The helplessness, the panic–Niamh couldn’t stop/the tears from streaming down her cheeks.
“It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Let’s hope you don’t disappoint me,” he murmured, brushing her tears away with his tongue–while his hands gripped her wrists hard enough to leave bruises.
The night passed in a haze of fevered intensity. By dawn, Jonathan was already dressed and ready, having called Prescott to deliver a fresh suit.
7/2
20:05
OAR
As always, Prescott asked no questions. He dropped off the suit and waited
outside in the car.
When Jonathan finished getting dressed, Niamh was still asleep.
He glanced at her from the doorway. Even in sleep, her eyes were swollen from crying.
It was the first time, in all the years he’d known her, that he’d seen her break down like that.
Even as he took her, she’d wept–and though it had excited him at first, the feeling faded, leaving him oddly dissatisfied.
It wasn’t as if this was the first time…
His sculpted features were as cold as stone.
With a dismissive murmur-“So dramatic“-he left her apartment behind.
By afternoon, storm clouds had swallowed the once–bright sky.
Niamh woke with her mind blank, as if she’d blacked out from drink.
The shocking events of last night came rushing back, piece by piece. Her nose stung, and tears welled up again.
She and Jonathan had slept together.
She’d been forced, yes–but it didn’t change the fact: they’d been together.
Worst of all … she still had feelings for him.
Frustrated, Niamh raked her fingers through her tangled hair, wanting to scream but unable to muster the rage.
Suddenly, she remembered something and snatched up her phone.
It was already one in the afternoon!
Thirty–two missed calls from Peter, and countless WhatsApp messages.
Heart pounding, she dialed him back, scrambling for an explanation.
Peter had planned a press conference that morning to clear her name of plagiarism.
Monica had accused Niamh of copying a signature element–the treble clef
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Chapter 61
motif–from the Grand Piano Collection, claiming she’d stolen it for her own Serendipity jewelry line.
In other words, Niamh was being accused of plagiarizing her own work.
But the treble clef motif wasn’t unique to the Grand Piano Collection; it wasn’t even original to them. Using that alone to accuse Niamh of plagiarism was baseless.
Still, the other side had prepared well, stirring up a storm online. Peter believed the fastest way to clear her name was for Niamh to admit publicly that she was, in fact, the designer behind the Grand Piano Collection.
If she had a choice, Niamh would never have revealed her secret.
But now, she had none. She agreed to Peter’s plan.
Jonathan had ruined everything.
Peter didn’t blame her, but that only made Niamh feel guiltier–and her anger toward Jonathan burned even hotter.
Because of her delay, the press conference was rescheduled for the evening. But before night could fall, the tide of public opinion online suddenly turned.
3/3
