Chapter 4

Derek had completely lost his mind.

He picked up the bowl coated with thick chicken fat and shoved it directly against my lips.

"Drink it!"

I jerked my head to the side, fighting him off weakly.

"The doctor explicitly said I just started passing gas. My bowels can't handle grease. Consuming fat right now will kill me!"

"Stop using doctors to hide behind your drama!"

Derek sneered, his eyes filled with impatient disgust.

"You're just being precious. Since when did you turn into such a fragile princess?"

"Hailey spent five hours making this for you. Refusing it is spitting in her face!"

As he spoke, he shoved the spoon forward again, pressing it hard against my lips.

The rancid, greasy stench made my stomach violently heave.

I clamped my mouth shut, glaring at him with pure hatred.

This man genuinely didn't care if I died.

Right at that second, Martha hurried through the door holding a food container.

The moment she saw what was happening, she dropped the container, rushed forward, and grabbed Derek's wrist in sheer panic.

"Sir! Stop! You can't do that!"

"That soup is pure oil! Her body cannot digest this after major surgery! Forcing it down will kill her!"

Derek shoved her away with violent force, completely deaf to reason.

"Get the fuck out of my way!"

"You're a paid servant, you don't dictate my marriage!"

He shoved her so hard that Martha stumbled backward and fell heavily out into the hallway.

Before she could even scramble to her feet, Derek lunged forward and slammed the door shut with a thunderous bang.

Then came the sharp click of the lock.

*Click.*

From outside, Martha’s frantic pounding and screams echoed against the wood.

"Open the door! Open it right now! She cannot have that!"

"Somebody help! Security!"

Inside the suite, Derek had created his own isolated chamber of horrors.

He turned around, his eyes blazing with fury as he stared at me.

"Are you going to drink it or not?"

I gritted my teeth, staring in sheer despair at the man I had shared a bed with for three years.

His face was contorted into a monstrous sneer. There was nothing human left in him.

Seeing that I refused to open my mouth, Derek reached out and clamped his hand around my jaw like a vise.

His fingers dug into my bone, squeezing so hard I felt my jaw would shatter.

The blinding pain forced my mouth open.

"Ah—!"

The moment my mouth parted, he shoved the spoon deep inside.

Scalding, greasy chicken broth surged down my throat.

The thick oil immediately flooded my airway. The sensation of choking triggered an uncontrollable, violent spasm through my entire body.

"Cough—cough! Cough—!"

I hacked violently, desperately trying to purge the liquid.

Every single cough violently pulled at the freshly stitched incision across my abdomen.

It felt as though a serrated knife was twisting inside my gut, sending cold sweat pouring down my forehead.

And amidst the horror, a high-pitched, mocking laugh cut through the room.

"Yay! So funny! The bad auntie is choking!"

"Go Daddy! Choke her to death!"

Leo stood by the bed, clapping his little hands with pure, sadistic glee.

He pointed at me writhing in agonizing pain on the mattress, as if he were watching a fascinating toy break.

Hailey stood beside him, arms crossed over her chest, watching with cold detachment.

"Cough... Derek... are you trying... to murder me..."

I managed to choke out the words through gasps of air, my vision swimming in black spots.

"Murder? I'm teaching you basic manners!"

"Stop faking it. Drink the rest!"

He scooped up another overflowing spoonful and shoved it toward my mouth again.