09
With bloodshot eyes, he nearly roared as he barked, “Everyone stop what you’re doing!”
“Go! Find Elena for me!”
“Alive, I want to see her–dead… No! She can’t die!*
His voice echoed through the empty villa, thick with the stench of blood and despair.
His men turned the small seaside town inside out.
The pier, fishing boats, hotels, even the narrowest alleyways–nothing was left unchecked.
But as time dragged on, it was as if Elena had vanished from the world–no trace, no news.
Caleb’s sanity began to crumble, piece by piece.
Late one night, he went searching the town’s biggest garbage dump like a madman.
Things Elena had tossed out like trash–Elena’s sketches, clay cups she had made by hand, anything that still carried her scent.
He picked up a broken shard of a cup, its faint jasmine glaze still visible.
“Elena… my Elena…”
He whispered, tears mixing with grime as they slid from the corners of his bloodshot eyes.
He didn’t even notice the sharp edge slicing into his finger. He just wanted to retrieve a piece- any piece–of her.
Elsewhere, in the cold, damp water dungeon—
“Ah-!”
Elena’s shriek split the silence.
Chains wrapped tightly around her wrists and ankles, suspending her midair as the icy water rose past her knees.
“The boss said–one thousand needles a day. Not a single one less.”
A cold voice rang out as a man stepped forward, holding a thin needle that glinted under the dim light, and began stabbing her exposed skin without a flicker of emotion.
Elena screamed and convulsed, sobbing and begging, “Caleb! I was wrong! I was really wrong! Please forgive me!”
But her only answer was the quiet pierce of the needle into her flesh and endless despair.
The drawn–out torment made her realize that begging was pointless–Caleb was insane.
“Caleb! I’m Caleb’s wife! You can’t do this to me! He’ll be back from abroad soon. Do you want
him to see his wife like this?!”
No sooner had she shouted this than she was dragged out of the dungeon. Her skin was covered in pinpricks, old wounds layered beneath fresh ones.
She thought Caleb had returned–that she’d finally be saved.
In a panic, she tried to smooth her tattered clothes with trembling, swollen hands, hoping her beauty might sway him.
02
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341 pm D
“Caleb! Your brother’s gone mad! He’s going to kill me!” she cried, tears streaming down her face.
But the man who stepped inside was Caleb, cold and deadly as a god of vengeance,
He ignored her pleas, pulled a document from his briefcase, and threw it at her,
“What is this?” Elena croaked.
“Divorce papers,” Caleb said flatly. “Sign them.”
His voice was calm, but there was no room for argument.
Elena froze, her sobs catching in her throat. Her eyes widened in disbelief. “No… no! Caleb wouldn’t do this to me! I’m a member of the Turner family!”
“The Turner family doesn’t shelter malicious women.” Caleb’s tone was final. “Caleb’s settling abroad. You can live out your punishment here.”
“Caleb, I’ve paid for what I did. Let me go. One night of marriage means a hundred days of grace, doesn’t it? You’ve had me so many times. Didn’t you love my body? From now on, I’m yours, alright?”
Caleb spat two words with venomous disgust: “Shut up.”
Then, through clenched teeth: “Bitch.”
‘Caleb, call me vicious–but you’re no better! You helped me track her down. Don’t act so righteous now!” she screamed, realizing there was no escape.
The madness in Caleb’s eyes was slowly swallowed by heartbreak.
He watched as Elena’s hands were forced down, signing the divorce papers.
He didn’t glance at her again.
Instead, he ordered coldly, “Since she loves sleeping with men so much, send her to the red light district. Make sure she serves ninety–nine clients a day. If she doesn’t, she doesn’t eat or drink.”
Elena’s eyes filled with horror, but her screams and curses were drowned out as the heavy iron door slammed shut.
At the same time, the driver in the hospital succumbed to his injuries. Caleb had him chopped to pieces and fed to the crocodiles.
After tying up every loose end, Caleb looked like a hollow shell.
He wandered like a ghost, always clutching a bottle of liquor, reeking of alcohol, standing at the edge of the sea.
He stared into the horizon, murmuring again and again:
‘Elena…”
‘Elena, I was wrong…”
‘Come back…”
The cold waves kept crashing, one after another, leaving behind broken bubbles.
But no one ever answered his call.
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