Chapter 4 He Was So Cruel To Her

Arabella's sudden movement sent the table into a tremble, causing water to spill over the rim of her glass and cascade across the polished surface. With a gasp, she snatched up a napkin, her cheeks paling as she dabbed at the wet spots.

Arabella inwardly cursed. Shit! Had she just made things worse for Owen?

"Relax, it's just a bit of water. Nothing to fuss over," Blaine chimed in, his voice attempting lightness. He stood and reached for Arabella's hand, his touch sending an unwelcome shiver down her spine.

Arabella's instinct was to recoil, but before she could withdraw, Owen's voice sliced through the air, chilly and detached. "My assistant can be somewhat clumsy. My apologies for any inconvenience."

Turning toward Owen, Arabella caught his gaze. He reclined casually at the head of the table, a deceptive half-smile playing on his lips while his piercing eyes held her in a frosty embrace. The air around her seemed to cool, her hand still caught in Blaine's grasp.

As Blaine continued to pat Arabella's hand dry, Owen's eyes darkened to glacial depths, his stare unyielding.

The rest of the room, however, seemed oblivious to the tension, diving back into their business discussions with practiced ease.

Blaine, meanwhile, seemed oblivious to Arabella's discomfort. His hand lingered, creeping ever closer, his presence increasingly oppressive. Arabella edged away, repulsion crawling up her throat, but Blaine's persistence only intensified.

Desperate, Arabella cast a pleading look toward Owen, hoping for some form of rescue.

But Owen remained detached, his attention elsewhere as his fingers tapped an absent rhythm on the table-a signal of simmering irritation known only to those familiar with his restrained fury.

At the crowded table, laughter and chatter filled the air, yet Arabella sat rigid, her discomfort as palpable as if she were teetering on the tip of a dagger.

Forced to remain still lest she disrupt Owen's ongoing business, she didn't want Blaine to continue to harass her. The tension twisted her insides, each second feeling like it would never end.

As the meeting finally edged toward a conclusion, Blaine slid his arm around Arabella's shoulders with unsettling familiarity. "Mr. Murray, I've always been intrigued by sign language. Perhaps your secretary could teach me?" he suggested, his tone light but loaded with implication.

Arabella's gaze flicked to Owen, her eyes wide with alarm. Although new to the nuances of corporate etiquette, she understood all too well that Blaine's request crossed a line. She was not just Owen's employee. She was his wife. Surely, he wouldn't entertain Blaine's inappropriate suggestion.

Yet, Owen's expression remained unreadable, impassive as stone. Arabella's heart hammered against her ribs, her eyes shimmering with a silent plea for him to intervene.

Owen's response, however, was a smirk that chilled her to the bone. "Of course, feel free," he said, his casual dismissal slicing through her like ice.

At that dreadful moment, Arabella's world seemed to fracture. She had known of Owen's disdain, but bartering her so dismissively with Blaine was a cruelty she hadn't anticipated. Was this how little he cared, how easily he could inflict pain?

Refusing to comply, Arabella struggled, her resolve steeling. But before she could escape, Owen stepped before her, his hand heavy on her shoulder. "Ms. Butcher, Blaine is keen on learning sign language now. Don't disappoint him," he said, his voice a sinister whisper that only she could hear.

Leaning closer, his words were a venomous hiss meant for her alone. "You want your father to receive medical parole, don't you? Serve Blaine well, and I'll make sure it happens."

Arabella stood frozen, her heart plummeting into despair at the sight of Owen's cruel, indifferent expression. It felt like invisible claws were ripping through her soul, tearing her apart from within.

Her eyes, red and swollen from tears, locked onto Owen. She clenched her fists tightly, the tension palpable. After what felt like an eternity, she slowly uncurled her fingers and resigned herself to the situation. Kristian's health was on a rapid decline-he desperately needed medical parole. If she dared to resist or she so much as irritated Blaine, Owen would show her no mercy.

Fighting back tears, Arabella clenched her fists once more, her nails digging into her palms.

"Ha-ha... Mr. Murray, you truly are generous," Blaine stated, her voice dripping with a forced admiration. "Regarding the deal, I assure you, I can provide substantial benefits."

Blaine's grin widened as he ushered Arabella out of the room. His self-satisfied chuckle reverberated behind them, sounding sinister, like the taunting laugh of a malevolent spirit.

Owen remained behind, his features shadowed and inscrutable, watching them depart with a stony gaze.

As soon as they entered another room, Blaine's hands were cruelly at Arabella's clothes, tearing at the fabric.

Arabella was pushed onto the bed, her body collapsing, utterly devoid of strength, resembling a discarded, broken doll.

When Blaine noticed the array of bruises and marks marring her skin, his laughter erupted again, loud and mocking. "I knew it! Owen couldn't resist such a beauty!" he muttered, his voice filled with mockery and disdain.

The mere mention of Owen's name jolted Arabella from her daze, igniting a fierce panic within her. Her limbs flailed against the grim reality, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. No! Even if Owen didn't give a damn about her, she'd rather rot than let another man lay a finger on her.

"Ha... A minute ago, you were all soft and sweet-now you're suddenly playing tough?" Blaine's voice dripped with mockery as he loomed over her.

Arabella's response was a silent struggle. She pushed against him with every ounce of her strength. But Blaine was imposing, his bulky frame immovable against her feeble attempts.

"What's the matter? You fancy Owen more than me? Too bad, he's already passed you along to me." Blaine's sneer widened. "Ha-ha... Owen sure knows how to keep things interesting-he went and got himself a mute plaything!"

Arabella's heart clenched, tears stinging her eyes as she mentally cried out, "Let go! Let go of me! Help me! Someone, please help me!"

Her mind screamed for rescue, yet her voice betrayed her, yielding nothing but silence. She had never despised being mute more than she did at this moment.

But at that moment, a bitter realization pierced her heart. Even if she could scream, would anyone even hear? Would anyone care to help? Despair cloaked her, as heavy as the silence that held her captive, and fear threatened to consume her whole.

Blaine, his grin wide with wicked excitement, declared, "I've never fucked a mute before. This should be fun-let's see if I can make you whimper."

Arabella, repulsed and terrified, fought back fiercely, earning herself two harsh slaps from Blaine.

The force of the blow reverberated through Arabella's skull, causing her nose to bleed.

Her attire was nearly ripped from her body in the struggle. Summoning every ounce of her resolve, Arabella seized a lamp from the nightstand, clenched her teeth, and with a surge of desperate strength, crashed it against Blaine's head.

A sharp cry of pain escaped Blaine as he instinctively clutched at the throbbing wound.

Seizing the moment, Arabella pushed him back, landed a swift kick to his groin, and dashed for the door.

"You better stop running, you worthless bitch! The second I catch you, I'll fucking end you!" Blaine's furious shouts filled the air as he gave chase. Arabella's heart pounded with fear as she sprinted, her clothes torn and hanging loosely. She was running for her life, every step echoing her pounding heart.

The elevator doors gleamed like salvation.

She was nearly there! If she could just reach it, she would be safe.

Arabella stood frozen before the elevator doors, her breath catching in her throat as they slid open with an unexpected whoosh. There, like a specter from her nightmares, stood Owen-impeccably dressed in a sleek, black suit that seemed to swallow the light around him.

Arabella's heart hammered against her ribs, and a ghostly pallor washed over her face. What the hell? Wasn't Owen supposed to have left? Why was he back now? There was nothing left for her now-it was truly over. Owen was throwing her right back into Blaine's hands!

At that moment, everything Arabella had bottled up came crashing down. She looked at Owen, tears streaming down her face, her eyes drowning in sorrow, despair, and resentment. It was the kind of sight that stirred pity in even the coldest hearts.

Just then, a scornful laugh sliced through the tense air. "Got you now, you little bitch! Ha!" The voice was unmistakably Blaine's, dripping with mockery and contempt.

Arabella's heart squeezed painfully, terror gripping her as she trembled from head to toe. She saw Blaine charging toward her, his eyes alight with cruel intent, his mouth twisted into a sinister grin. In a moment driven by raw instinct and desperate fear, Arabella lunged forward, her arms wrapping around Owen in a tight embrace, seeking refuge in his unexpected presence.