A One-Night Stand With Her Ex-Husband

"If I drink these, you won't bother Roy again, right?"

Cynthia glanced at the three glasses of red wine, which were filled to the brim, before looking up at the man sitting across from her, who wore a series of earrings in his left ear. She asked.

This man, Frank, has recently been the subject of a major interview for the magazine Cynthia works for. But in the course of his work he repeatedly tried to get close to her. Her colleague and friend, Roy, had been punished by Frank to help her, and even their camera had been smashed.

Meanwhile, that interview didn't go ahead, and their supervisor was unusually angry, leading to both her and Roy being punished.

Cynthia was here today to apologize for Roy and to try to persuade Frank to continue with the interview.

Frank, half-lying on the sofa, stared at her. She had a strikingly beautiful face, but it was her perfectly tailored suit that wrapped around her slender frame that caught his attention.

To him, she was even more enticing than women who wore barely anything at all.

His eyes briefly flickered with interest. He lounged casually on the sofa and flashed a confident, almost arrogant smile. "Of course. I never lie."

Cynthia picked up the glasses and drained them in one go, the crowd around them cheering.

She wiped her mouth with a napkin, then stood up and extended her hand towards Frank, still lounging lazily.

"So, the interview..."

Frank smirked, his lips curling into a mocking smile. Slowly, he stood up and grasped her soft hand, his voice filled with innuendo.

"We can continue. Your supervisor is smart, sending such a beautiful woman. How could I say no?"

Without warning, Frank tightened his grip, pulling Cynthia into his embrace. For a brief moment, she felt dizzy.

Then, she realized his hands were sliding down her waist, caressing her.

A husky voice whispered in her ear, "Sweetheart, if you're willing to spend the night with me here, I can buy your magazine company and give it to you. Do you want that?"

Cynthia felt disgust rise in her chest, but kept her smile intact. She pushed his hand away from her chest. "I didn't know I was worth that much."

She pushed him away and stepped back, only to bump into someone coming toward her. The impact felt like crashing into a wall.

When she turned around, the color drained from her face, turning it as pale as a ghost.

She never imagined she'd encounter him here, at this moment!

Her ex-husband, Lucien Brown, the man who had divorced her six years ago.

His words from that day still echoed in her ears.

"I'm giving you freedom, Cynthia. But remember, if I ever meet you again, you'll know what hell is!"

And now, the man who once swore to ruin her stood right in front of her.

His perfect face sent a sharp jolt through her, stirring her nerves. Everything else faded from her mind.

However, he merely looked at her coldly, as if she were a stranger.

Standing beside him were two or three young men, along with a strikingly beautiful man, his features were almost feminine, a blend of allure and masculine charm, like a dark fairy stepping out of the night.

The beautiful man noticed Lucien's unwavering gaze on Cynthia and wrapped an arm around his, asking in a teasing tone, "Lucien, you know her?"

"My ex-wife, a slut," Lucien replied nonchalantly, as if he were talking about a nobody.

He then turned his attention to Frank, who was standing beside Cynthia, and a cold smile appeared on his lips. "Frank, do you actually need a hooker?"

With that, Lucien strode forward, his long arm reaching out to grab Cynthia by the neck, pulling her roughly into his grip.

His eyes remained cold, but the ice in them seemed bottomless, chilling anyone who dared to look. "So, you've had vaginal rejuvenation surgery to fool people again? Bitch."

His words struck like a slap, and the crowd around them fell into stunned silence.

Frank's face went from pale to green with fury. He looked at Cynthia as if she had truly seduced him.

Cynthia felt Lucien's large hand on her neck, squeezing so tightly that she thought it might snap.

The moment she saw him, all her words seemed to vanish, leaving only the cold, mocking tone of his voice echoing in her mind.

Her face turned even paler than before, but her eyes had sharpened with cold resolve.

"Heh, if I'm a slut, then you must be the world's biggest joke, my dear ex-husband." she grimaced in pain, but still managed to mock him, her lips curling into a smile that made Lucien want to crush her.

For a split second, Lucien's eyes flashed with an icy storm, and a deadly silence settled over the room.

The air seemed to freeze, and the onlookers couldn't help but shudder, sensing that he might snap Cynthia's neck without a second thought.

No one dared to intervene.

That beautiful man rushed over, trying to pull his hand off her neck. "Lucien, we should go. Mr. Smith is waiting for us."

Lucien didn't move. It was as if he could only see the woman in front of him.

The man tried again, desperation creeping into his voice. "Lucien..."

With a sharp motion, Lucien tossed Cynthia aside, sending her crashing to the floor.

Her wrist slammed into the table, and the pain shot through her. The spilled wine splashed all over her face, blurring her vision.

No one offered to help her. The crowd stood there, merely observing.

Lucien stared down at her, his gaze as cold as the grave.

Finally, he stepped over her, not sparing her a single glance as he walked away.

Amidst the whispers and stares from the bar's patrons, Cynthia stumbled out, her steps unsteady and desperate.

The late spring night breeze carried a chill, cruelly slipping into her collar. She was soaked, unsure whether it was sweat or spilled liquor from her struggle earlier, and as she stepped outside the bar, a shiver ran down her spine.

Suddenly, a strong wave of dizziness hit her, overwhelming her like a rushing tide.

Her body felt drained, as if her muscles had been stripped away, and she was left weak and on the verge of collapsing onto the cold ground.

Those drinks were definitely tampered with!

Shaking uncontrollably, Cynthia fumbled for her phone, her fingers sluggishly gliding across the screen as she tried to call her best friend, Erica, hoping for her to come and help.

But fate seemed unwilling to spare her.

Just then, two tall, shadowy figures appeared from behind her, silently approaching. Before she could react, a large, rough hand covered her mouth.

Cynthia felt the world spinning, her head heavy and clouded, as if engulfed in a thick fog.

Her body burned with an intense, uncomfortable heat, a sensation so foreign that she instinctively wanted to tear off her clothes.

Half-dazed, she was suddenly thrown onto a soft, large bed, the bright white light flashing painfully in her eyes.

She tried with all her might to open her eyes, to see where she was, but all she could see was a blurry haze, as if there were thick frosted glass between her and reality.

She tried to scream, but her throat was glued shut, no sound escaping.

Then, a towering figure slowly appeared in front of her, its presence overwhelming, like a mountain looming above her.

The figure pressed down heavily on her, the unmistakable scent of male pheromones flooding her senses, causing her body to involuntarily respond, every pore greedily inhaling the scent.

Her wrists were pinned to the bed with painful force, sharp agony jolting through her, bringing a fleeting moment of clarity.

In that instant, a deep, hoarse voice whispered in her ear, "I'm always right. YOU'RE THE SLUT! You want me to fuck you, huh?"

The words cut into her heart like a sharp knife.

She wasn't a slut, she screamed inside, wanting to open her mouth to argue, to tell him she was drugged, that she was a victim!

But when she tried to speak, all that escaped her lips were weak moans, the sound seeming to welcome the man's touch and invasion.

The next moment, her lips were seized in a harsh kiss, the burning sensation making her tremble all over.

She tried to push him away, but her body betrayed her, no strength left to resist, instead sinking deeper into the nauseating intimacy...

***

The Next Morning

The morning sun filtered through the thick curtains, casting several sharp beams of light. Cynthia's head was pounding painfully, each heartbeat like a heavy hammer pounding on her nerves.

Her body felt as though it had been pierced by countless needles, and an aching soreness spread throughout her limbs.

She struggled to turn over on the soft white bed, her pale arm slipping out from under the covers as she instinctively reached for her phone.

But after fumbling for a while, she couldn't find it. Rubbing her forehead, she slowly opened her eyes.

What she saw immediately snapped her out of the haze, as if cold water had been poured over her.

This was an unfamiliar room, lavishly decorated but filled with an eerie atmosphere.

The bed beneath her was soft, almost like a trap, binding her in place. What terrified her more was that she was completely naked, her skin exposed to the air, a cold chill seeping into her bones.

For a moment, her mind went blank.

Clothes, both men's and women's, were scattered all over the bed and the floor, the undeniable evidence of what had happened the night before-she had slept with a man.

Suddenly, the fragmented memories of last night crashed into her mind.

She had been abducted by a stranger, and then everything went black.

Her mind flickered with disjointed images, the man pressing on top of her, his hungry desire, the kiss, and the hands that had driven her to madness...

"DAMN!" she whispered under her breath, her voice trembling with a mixture of despair and fury. "A FUCKING one-night stand?!"

At that moment, the sound of running water came from the bathroom, harsh and loud in the otherwise silent room.

The noise startled Cynthia, making her freeze, her nerves immediately tensing.

Countless terrifying thoughts tangled in her mind.

Who was the man in the bathroom? Was he the one who kidnapped her?

Panicking, she quickly threw off the covers, scrambling out of bed, her bare feet cold against the floor.

Her movements were frantic and hurried, as she desperately grabbed for the clothes on the floor, trying to cover herself, while her eyes searched for her phone. That was her only chance for help.

When she finally found it, her trembling fingers pressed the buttons, ready to call the police.

But just then, the bathroom door creaked open. The sound wasn't loud, but it felt like thunder in her ears, and she froze in place, her body shaking uncontrollably.

Who was she about to face? Would this man kill her now that she was awake?

As she forced herself to calm down, she turned to face him, but the phone slipped from her hand, clattering to the floor.

Her face drained of color, her skin going deathly pale as if all the blood had been drained from her body. The air thickened with a suffocating cold.

It was the man from last night, the one who had called her a slut-Lucien.

He stood there, holding a cigarette in one hand, wrapped in a bath towel, his perfect physique on full display.

Water droplets clung to his pale skin, and his flawless face radiated coldness, his eyes-glinting with a chilling light-locked onto her.

Thick eyebrows, a high nose, and lips that were thin but exquisitely beautiful-all of it exuded an aristocratic elegance that was impossible to ignore.

But to Cynthia, it all felt like a nightmare.

Now, just being alone with him in this room, she felt as if she were standing on the edge of a cliff, with danger looming close by.

Run.

That was the only thought in her mind now. She had no courage left to defy him like she did last night.

But Lucien was faster. With one swift motion, he grabbed her sore wrist and slammed her against the wall, showing no intention of letting her go.

His breath was too close, and his wood-scented cologne, mixed with the fresh smell of his post-shower body, made her dizzy.

"Trying to run AGAIN?" Lucien's voice was low and hoarse, drifting in her ear with an undeniable force.

Cynthia's face was pressed hard against the wall, causing a sharp pain.

"I spent a lot of energy satisfying you last night. And you're just leaving like this? Not even a thanks?" Lucien's magnetic voice whispered in her ear.

He was utterly shameless! To put it bluntly, he had committed a crime! And now, he was asking her to thank him?!

"I have nothing to say to you. Let me go!" Cynthia felt stripped of all her dignity in front of him.

She tried to push him away, but he grabbed her wrists, forcing her hands over her head. The barely hanging clothes slipped off her body, and she was once again pressed against the cold wall.

Shame surged through her, overwhelming her thoughts.

"Nothing to say to me? Have you forgotten? We used to be husband and wife." Lucien's arms tightened around her waist, his body pressing dangerously close to hers. His lips brushed against her translucent earlobe, "I'm the one who knows best how slutty you are."

His thumb ran over her lips, speaking slowly, "Your skills are still poor, but your passion last night was unforgettable."

"Stop touching me! I'll call the police!" Cynthia couldn't move, her body shuddering under his breath.

"Wow! Call the police? And What will you say? That I raped you? Don't forget, last night you begged me to FUCK you." Lucien's voice turned cold and mocking. "Do you want to know how much you resembled a dog in fucking heat last night?"

Bang-

Cynthia was lifted off the ground and violently thrown onto the bed.

When his muscular body pressed against hers, a terror unlike anything she had felt before gripped her. Even when she had betrayed him, she had never been this afraid.

Lucien kissed her fiercely, as if trying to consume her. The scenes of last night's wild passion fragmented in her mind, and she felt disgusted with herself.

"No, please, let me go!" She trembled, pleading with the man tormenting her.

"No? Did you say no when you were in bed with that asshole?" His words pierced her heart like a venomous snake.

Lucien watched her, curled up beneath him like a helpless animal, his rage building.

He squeezed her chin, his gaze lingering on her tear-streaked face. Her vulnerability only seemed to ignite his primal desire, "What's this expression? Feel humiliated for sleeping with me? Where's the bastard? Did you turn into a whore because he couldn't satisfy you?"

Cynthia's eyes twisted in pain, her anguish written all over her face. Lucien saw it, and the grip on her tightened, making her wince in agony.

He twisted her head and kissed her lips again, as if he intended to devour her whole.

Only after what seemed like an eternity did Lucien pull away. He placed a bank card on the pillow and leaned in close to her ear.

"That's your payment for last night. The password is your birthday. And don't worry, I'll order you again."

Cynthia remained numb, her expression blank as though she were a dead pool of water, untouched by emotion.

After Lucien left, she remained in bed, letting the layers of pain overwhelm her. Tears streamed down her face.

The moment she decided to back here, she knew she couldn't escape him.

She had foolishly hoped time would erase everything, but when she faced Lucien, she realized his revenge wasn't a joke.

Six years had passed, but he had no intention of letting her go...

***

The sound of rushing water filled the bathroom as Cynthia tilted her head back, allowing the warm water to wash over her face.

When she turned off the showerhead, she squatted down slowly, silent tears falling once again. The surrounding silence felt suffocating.

Outside, her phone blared loudly. But inside the bathroom, she was lost in the painful memories.

When she emerged wrapped in a towel, her face was still pale. Her hair dripped with water, falling onto her fair skin and making her complexion appear even more luminous.

The phone's ringtone persisted, and Cynthia finally glanced at it. It was Roy calling.

She suddenly remembered her appointment with Roy.

Quickly dressing in her coat to cover any traces left behind, she hurried out to meet him.

***

"Cynthia!"

A voice called out, and Roy appeared in front of her. He had a striking appearance, exuding the aura of an artistic young man. His long hair added to his beauty, and from behind, people might mistake him for a woman.

Cynthia forced a smile, her dimpled cheeks showing, which only made Roy more nervous.

His hands shoved deep into his jeans pockets as he nervously mentioned that he had made a reservation.

They sat down at the restaurant, but Cynthia, troubled by everything on her mind, didn't say much.

Roy, on the other hand, seemed incredibly anxious, unable to focus on his food. He kept glancing at her, and each time he did, his face flushed.

"Is Frank still bothering you?" Cynthia asked, breaking the silence.

Roy hesitated for a moment before shaking his head.

"Cynthia, I told you, don't worry about me. I have friends in the police, and they won't dare do anything. Has he been harassing you?"

"No, and he won't anymore," Cynthia replied, with words that Roy didn't fully understand. "I'm the one who dragged you into this. I'm sorry."

Thanks to her unexpected encounter with Lucien last night, Frank wouldn't be a problem anymore.

Roy looked at her, his face growing even redder. He stammered, "Cynthia, I... I have something to say..."

He paused, the soft, flowing music in the background seeming to heighten the tension. Roy pulled out a small ring box, opened it, and gently pushed it towards her, "Cynthia, will you marry me?"

Before she could respond, the door to the restaurant opened, and a voice called out, "Welcome!"

Cynthia looked up, only to see the one person she least wanted to see-Lucien.

He was with a woman with golden curly hair, her body impossibly curvy. Her legs, wrapped in a pink mini skirt, exuded a fiery allure.

Lucien's gaze landed on Cynthia almost immediately, his eyes calmly resting on the ring and Roy, before he turned to his companion, "Sandy, let's sit over there."

Sandy smiled and nodded, following him deeper into the restaurant.

Cynthia was shaken by the sight of Lucien. Her mind was a whirlwind of emotions.

Roy, however, was still looking at her, his gaze full of longing as he tightly held her hand. His voice was firm, "Cynthia, marry me. I'll love you for the rest of my life."