He Never Loved Me Until the Day I Finally Left Him novel Chapter 322

Helena's tone was flat. "You're overthinking it, Mr. Hayes. After all, you still have Wynn. You're still holding my biggest weakness hostage."

The sarcasm in her words was aimed squarely at him.

But on the surface, she was unnervingly calm.

She didn't even struggle, letting him grip her chin.

The more she acted like this, the more it infuriated him.

That once gentle, radiant face was now overshadowed by a layer of bleak despair.

Only then did Sebastian notice.

Blisters had bubbled up across her chest and arms.

One or two of them—the ones he had just ruptured—were oozing a clear fluid.

The pain she was in was unimaginable.

Yet, even so, she hadn't uttered a single plea for mercy.

"You should go back to Ms. Ramirez. If you stay with me too long, she might throw another tantrum," Helena said plainly.

She reached up to pry his fingers off her face.

It was the truth.

She simply didn't want to invite more trouble.

"Sebastian!" The next second, a gasp tore from her throat.

He had shoved her roughly onto the bed.

Before she could process it, his heavy frame covered hers.

Whether he was triggered by her apathy or driven by something darker, Sebastian became completely unreasonable.

Only one violent urge consumed his mind.

To shut her mouth.

A crushing kiss stole the breath from her lungs, silencing her instantly.

She stared at him in utter shock.

The assault quickly dissolved into a desperate struggle.

With her heavy belly, she was terrified to move too recklessly.

Given everything that had happened, she was genuinely afraid the baby wouldn't survive the trauma.

"Mmph... let... let me go," she stammered, her voice breaking.

In the chaotic tangle of limbs, she shoved her hands against his hard chest.

The sheer repulsion in her eyes couldn't be clearer.

Sebastian's gaze turned somber. He grabbed her wrists.

Her body was struggling to adjust to the brutal invasion.

They were like two cornered beasts.

In this desperate nightmare, only one could survive.

So they tore into each other, neither willing to yield an inch.

The pain was excruciating, but she glared at him with a stubborn, unbroken fire.

"Yes, I'm cheap. I'm a murderer. What kind of sick fetish do you have, Mr. Hayes, wanting to sleep with a murderer?" she spat back without missing a beat.

Her words earned her an even harsher punishment.

The twisted reality was that their clothes were practically still on.

He answered her with a dark, mocking sneer.

His movements turned aggressively dominant.

He was trying to break her, to force a plea from her lips.

But he never realized that when she dug her heels in, she was willing to risk her very life to win.

Now, he was the one trapped in a corner.

A bitter stalemate dragged on between them.