Delete My Love for You novel Chapter 13

“Charlotte…”

Darren’s hand clamped around her waist, the veins in his neck standing out as the tension in his body reached its peak.

He pressed his lips to her ear, his voice rough and low. “I won’t let you rot away in some basement. As long as you keep clinging to this title, there’s only one way you’ll die—beneath me. Do you understand?”

Outside the villa, the afternoon sun blazed, baking the air until it shimmered with heat.

Four hours later, Darren finally left.

Charlotte lay sprawled on the bed like a broken doll, her entire body mottled with bruises from his grip. Every inch ached, pain blooming outwards from her skin, then clawing its way deep inside. It was as if agony pulsed through her bones.

The sudden shrill of her phone sliced through the silence.

She answered, her voice little more than a rasp.

“Only four days left,” came Mr. Nelson’s voice on the other end. “If you want to change your mind, there’s still time to find someone else. Are you having second thoughts?”

Charlotte forced out a hoarse reply. “I’m not.”

“You sure? You sound… weak.”

“I’m fine.”

Four days. After that, she’d finally let go of Darren—completely.

She hung up and lay there, unmoving, as the daylight faded and night crept in. She felt nothing but hollowed out—dead, almost.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Past midnight, the harsh pounding on her door dragged Charlotte from the depths of an exhausted sleep.

She scrambled up, pulling on long sleeves and pants, trying to shield her battered body.

The moment she opened the door, her security detail stormed in, rummaging through her things. Two of them seized Charlotte, pinning her arms before she could react.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

“Sorry to disturb you, Mrs. Harrington. These are Mr. Harrington’s orders.”

She stared in disbelief at the display. On the big screen, the diamond ring was unmistakable—her wedding ring. The one Darren had placed on her finger three years ago.

“Two dollars!”

“Ten!”

“One hundred!”

Some in the crowd jeered, a few hoping for a bargain, but most were simply here for the spectacle.

After all, this was a ring worth over five million on the market.

Darren wasn’t just auctioning off their wedding ring—he was making a public mockery of their marriage, humiliating Charlotte in front of everyone.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Three years ago, when Darren had slipped that ring onto her finger, she’d stood in her white gown, heart filled with hope and gratitude, believing she’d found the happiness she’d always longed for.