Chapter 2 I've Never Seen A Woman's Insides Before

Beads of sweat thickened on Adeline's forehead, trickling slowly down her face.

Waylon caught her foot in one hand, extending his other hand.

A nearby bodyguard got the cue and stepped forward, placing a dagger in his palm-unsheathed and gleaming under the overhead light.

Sitting there, Waylon pressed the cold steel against the top of her foot and then traced it upward along the length of her calf. A cruel gleam lit his eyes, feeding off some perverse thrill. "I've never seen a woman's insides before," he muttered, almost like he was talking to himself. "I imagine they're softer than a man's..."

Panic surged through Adeline, her thoughts spiraling as she struggled to comprehend. Did he plan to carve her open while she was still alive? Her entire body quaked, and her plea escaped in a broken whisper. "Don't, I beg you..."

Though having stayed indoors in the Simpson family home for the past five years, she had heard every bit of Waylon's infamous reputation.

Waylon had been born into expectations, destined for greatness. Tragically, during one outing with his mother at the tender age of five, his mother had died on the spot when the car crashed. He had disappeared since then.

Fifteen years later, when the Holden family finally located him, he'd transformed into a brutal figure in an illegal casino, infamous for his murderous demeanor and ruthless actions.

In the five years since Waylon rejoined the Holden family, he hadn't exactly mellowed. In fact, he had become ruthless with each passing season.

Adeline knew he was a twisted figure among the elite. His depravity was no secret, but the depths of his moral decay still went beyond her expectations. As the sole remaining member of the Sullivan family, she couldn't allow herself to meet such a cruel and humiliating end.

Adeline shifted and fought, desperate to break away, but Waylon's grip held firm around her ankle, anchoring her in place. The only thing left was to bear the icy kiss of the blade as it traced her skin.

Suddenly, the dagger slid beneath the hem of her white dress, nudging the fabric upward.

Her chest tightened so much that it hurt. She could barely breathe. Her skin turned paper-white.

At this moment, a voice cut through the air like a strike, halting the motion of the dagger. "Mr. Holden."

Zain Stewart, the Holden family's butler, stood calmly by the car door, slipping his phone into his pocket. "Mr. Holden, your grandmother just called," he said evenly. "She demanded that you not act recklessly and marry Ms. Sullivan right away. A Holden must be born under the family name."

"Has she lost her mind? Ordering me to marry the woman who manipulated her way into my bed?" Waylon scoffed. "I'll handle this myself."

Adeline took advantage of his momentary lapse, yanking her foot away in a sharp motion.

As she did so, the blindfold slipped off, and a blast of white light struck her eyes, triggering a sudden sting.

She froze, shocked. Colors bled into shapes, and her eyes burned. But then, just faintly, she saw it. She saw a hazy outline of a man sitting across from her. Her eyes... Had her vision returned?

Sitting sideways, Waylon offered her nothing more than a blurry glimpse of his profile-sharp lines and harsh angles. She fought to focus, but her eyes throbbed, each second amplifying the burn.

Just outside the vehicle, Zain went on relaying the directives of Ruby Holden, Waylon's grandmother. "Mrs. Holden insists on holding a wedding in three days. She'll personally oversee every detail."

Adeline was slightly taken aback by the butler's audacity to continue.

Waylon spun the blade between his fingers, his smirk slow and deliberate. "Come closer and say that again."

Zain eyed the dagger, perspiration forming on his forehead as a chill ran down his spine. Still, he didn't back down. "Mr. Holden, I am obliged to deliver this message, even at the risk of my life," he said steadily. "Mrs. Holden made it clear-if you refuse, she and her husband will hang themselves right at your front door."

The smile vanished from Waylon's face. He went completely still, his jaw set, his stare darkening.

Zain, now pale, reached into his coat pocket. "She also told me to show you this." He held up the phone, screen glowing. "She said once you've seen this video, you'll agree."

Waylon's eyes dropped to the screen, his expression hardening with each passing second.

Across from him, Adeline was still reeling-partly from the light, partly from what she'd just heard. Suddenly, Waylon turned to look at her.

She couldn't fully make out his face, still hidden behind a veil of pale mist. But even without a clear view, she still felt the weight of his stare-frigid, impenetrable, and as bottomless as the sea.

Adeline flinched. Something primal warned her to retreat, but before she could move, a firm hand clamped around her chin, fingers pressing against bone. Pain shot through her.

The nausea hit her fast, twisting in her gut. One of the bodyguards reacted swiftly, thrusting a trash bin in front of her just as she doubled over and vomited.

Afterward, her breathing slowly slowed. Her vision-strangely-sharpened.

When she looked up, she saw Waylon's back clearly. Towering. Broad-shouldered at the limousine door. The very picture of authority. Without warning, he turned sharply toward her, his face moving in closer.

A chill crept down her spine. She indeed could see now. Though she felt like blinking to adjust to her regained vision, she dared not move due to fear.

Then came Waylon's voice, low, smooth, and strangely compelling. "Fine. I'll marry her."