Yamini’s breath came hard.
“You sick bastard!” she shouted, voice shaking. “You—”
Her chest tightened until the words choked inside.
She couldn’t even name the humiliation properly. Because it wasn’t only what he’d said. It was what it implied.
That he could touch her every night. That he could kiss her with hunger and possession.
All the while, he planned to give her to another man.
A bitter laugh ripped out of her.
“Is this why you have been pulling out?” she demanded. “So I don’t accidentally conceive your child?”
She recalled the cold fury that one time, when she had forced him to climax inside her. The morning after pill that followed along with the blood test.
Bharat’s gaze held.
There was no denial.
Her eyes burned.
All the while, she had thought that he didn’t want her to conceive because he wanted them to get closer.
She had been hoping—stupidly—that there had been love in it somewhere. That the tenderness of the last few months meant something.
Now she saw only a cold-blooded revenge—the lake, the cabin, the weeks that followed. All of it had been lies to make her fall for him, only to destroy her.
She swallowed hard, forcing the tremor out of her voice.
“So this has always been your revenge,” she said, low and shaking. “This is how you punish me.”
His expression didn’t change as he watched her.
Her hands trembled as she pushed herself off the bed. She snatched her robe from the chair and yanked it on, fingers clumsy with fury.
Her throat hurt, and her eyes blurred. But she refused to cry.
Not in front of him. Where he could finally see the result of his carefully planned revenge.
She turned toward the connecting door, each step sharp on the marble.
She yanked the connecting door open and stepped into her room.
The familiar space hit her like a slap—feminine decor, tall windows, the faint scent of her lotion. Her life, separated from his by a door and a contract.
She slammed the connecting door shut so hard the frame shuddered.
Her back pressed against the door.
Her breath came in uneven bursts. Her chest hurt like she’d been punched.
Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
But the tears came anyway—hot, humiliating, and unstoppable.
She slid down the door until she hit the floor, robe pooling around her knees.
