Chapter 14 Stop Pretending to Be Innocent

I said nothing. Dominic Hawthorne's hand tightened around my jaw, slow and deliberate, as though he meant to shatter it. The sharp pain throbbed through my face, but I bit down hard on my lip until I tasted blood—refusing to give him the satisfaction of a sound. My silence only seemed to provoke him. "Lydia Fairchild," he said coldly. "Tell me—how did you trick Cecilia into speaking for you?" His grip grew harsher. My jaw, once burning with pain, now felt frighteningly numb. At last, he released me, only to seize my waist in his broad hand. Enraged, I struggled. "No—!" The word only seemed to amuse him. He reached forward and pressed a button. A black partition rose slowly between the front and back seats, sealing us off in a private chamber. By the time the panel locked into place, I knew escape was impossible. The next moments blurred into pain and humiliation. My resistance meant nothing to him. The confined space forced him to loom over me. His voice was sharp, cutting through my cries. "You schemed so hard to make Cecilia alter the contract—wasn't this what you wanted?" I gasped for breath, overwhelmed. All I wished was for it to end. But he showed no mercy. One hand fisted in my hair as he sneered, "Still pretending to be innocent? Regretting it now? Remember this, Lydia—you plotted against me, you hurt Nona. This is only the beginning of your suffering." The car drove on, relentless—just like him. When at last the vehicle stopped, he released me. Straightening his clothes with cool precision, he opened the door. "Get out. And put yourself together first." I slumped against the seat, drained and trembling. Only when I lifted my eyes to the window did recognition strike. The Civil Affairs Bureau. My heart plummeted. Was he really here to register our marriage? "No…" Panic surged, and I shook my head frantically. "No, I don't want this—I'll go tell Grandma—" But there was no escape. His eyes, colder than on our wedding night, burned with hatred. "What do you take the Hawthorne family for? A game you can twist at will?" Disheveled and humiliated, I could barely step outside. "I'll sign, I'll sign—just let me fix my clothes!" Only then did he release me. With trembling hands, I straightened my clothes and smoothed my hair before following him inside. The hall of the bureau was eerily empty. Dominic tossed a stack of documents onto the desk. "Sign." His tone left no room for refusal. I reached to turn the pages, but his hand slammed down, trapping mine beneath it. His eyes narrowed. "Lydia Fairchild, understand this: I'm not marrying you. You forced this. You'll take what you're given." "Dom, you must know about Leona by now—she was originally—" Before I could finish, his fist struck the table with a deafening bang. The crack of it echoed through the empty hall, jolting me. "Say one more word," he warned, "and I'll see every child at The House of Stars thrown onto the streets." The orphanage. My greatest weakness. Defeated, I signed my name. I knew the clauses—restrictions, punishments—were there, just as before. But I also knew Dominic was not bluffing. If he threatened to destroy The House of Stars, he would. The moment my pen left the paper, he pulled me toward the registration counter. Photographs. Medical checks. Procedures blurred past until we were seated before the clerk. The clerk studied us with polite caution. "Are you both certain about registering today?" "Is today… not allowed?" I asked faintly. "Not forbidden," the clerk replied, lowering his voice. "But it's an unlucky date. Notice? Not a single person here for divorce." A chill spread through me.