He Turned My Love Into a Grave Chapter 14

He Turned My Love Into a Grave Chapter 14

A day later, he was back in the country. Straight from the airport, he headed to a private club.

In the sprawling garden, a few men stood waiting. One of them grinned the moment he saw Silas. “Mr. Voss! Got another naughty mutt for us to train?”

A scream tore through the air. Silas, expressionless, snapped the man’s wrist backward. He kicked him hard into the pool.

Dead silence swallowed the garden.

The man thrashed, trying to climb out. Silas grabbed him by the hair and shoved his head underwater. He held him there.

Water flooded the man’s nose and throat. Suffocation clamped down on his windpipe.

Silas’s eyes were frozen lakes. His gaze sliced into the panicked face in front of him. “You get off on teaching people lessons? Let me return the favor.”

He yanked him up, then forced him back down. Again. And again. The man surfaced, gasping, and Silas drove him under once more.

Finally, the bloated body went limp, begging like a half-drowned dog.

Silas ordered him dragged out and thrown onto the grass.

“Which hand did you touch her with?”

The man stammered, baffled. “E-Elara? Mrs. Voss? Sir, I thought you were done with her. She was just a strategic asset—”

Silas stomped down on his already shattered wrist before he could finish. “An asset? When the hell did I ever say that? I told you to rattle her a little—just enough to keep her in line. And you pieces of shit went and slept with the woman I actually care about.”

The confession ripped through the garden. Everyone froze.

They’d all assumed that when Silas brought his mistress home, Elara was discarded goods. A joke. Trash.

No one realized Silas had never intended to let her go. That his instructions had been twisted, misinterpreted behind closed doors into something monstrous—a green light to violate her. And film it.

The realization detonated in the man’s skull. He dropped to his knees, pleading. “I was wrong. I was so wrong. Mr. Voss, when you brought Ms. Hale back with a child, we all thought you didn’t love Mrs. Voss anymore. That’s why we crossed the line. Please. Please, have mercy.”

Love.

The word detonated inside Silas’s chest. Agony, guilt, self-loathing—everything flooded in at once. He’d never told Elara he loved her. Not once. Like the bastard he was, he’d taken her love, her care, everything she gave, and never offered a single honest word in return.

He deserved to rot.

He snapped the man’s other wrist without a word. His expression was pure violence. “You touched what’s mine. There’s only one way that ends.”

The club—usually a sanctuary of quiet exclusivity—echoed with screams and sobbing until dawn.

The next day, he flew back to Elara.

He came loaded with gifts and knocked on his in-laws’ door. In that rundown neighborhood, neighbors gawked at the polished, untouchable man. “Who is that? He’s gorgeous. And rich.”

“Probably some trust-fund heir slumming it for a broke little Cinderella.”

Then Elara stepped out. Silas moved toward her, his pale eyes glinting with something like joy. “Elara, wait.”

The neighbors’ expressions soured. “Oh. Her. That broke hustler who walks around like she’s some kind of femme fatale.”

Elara’s striking looks and cool, elegant style had drawn every male gaze in the vicinity since she’d moved in. Naturally, she’d become public enemy number one.

Silas ignored the noise. He only had eyes for her.

Then, from around the corner, a flash of golden hair caught his attention.