Loved You Once But He's My Forever (Chloe) novel Chapter 422

I caught a glimpse of my reflection in Amber's dark pupils—a twisted, manic grin spread wide across my face.

"You're insane," she hissed.

I tilted my head at her, a mocking smile playing on my lips. "Insane? Weren't you the ones who drove me to this point, Amber? You orchestrated this grand drama, dragging me into the feud between the Carlyns and the Sanders. Why? What did I ever do to deserve this? In my past life, I spent years in depression before dying a horrible death. Even in death, I had no peace. My bones were shattered, my skin flayed, my body reduced to fragments."

I laughed, but tears welled in my eyes, streaming down my face and dripping off my chin.

I stepped closer to her, one deliberate step at a time until there was no distance left between us.

"Do you know what death is like? I was abandoned by the world—no one heard my cries. My family stood just within reach, but I couldn't speak, couldn't scream. I could only watch as my killers walked away, free and unpunished."

I locked eyes with her, my voice trembling with rage and despair. "Whitney was only five when you took her. You tortured her, shattered her innocence, and scarred her soul. What gave you the right? We never harmed anyone, yet this is the fate you forced upon us. Who granted you the power to decide who lives and who dies? If you're so intent on killing me, then here I am. Do it. Kill me now."

I pressed the knife into her hand and guided it to my chest, right over my heart. "Go on. Stab me. End it."

The knife clattered to the floor as she shoved me away, storming up the stairs without another word. Her retreating figure screamed of desperation, like someone fleeing from a battle she'd already lost.

Amber was unraveling. The situation had spun completely out of her control.

When she disappeared, I let out a shaky breath, wiping the tears from my face. I collapsed onto the couch, utterly drained. But in the end, I had won. I'd gambled, and I'd won.

Thank God Carter had uncovered the truth about their relationship. It seemed Amber cared about Carter more than she did about Yael and Taylor. Once again, Carter had saved me.

At least now, I had nothing to fear from the Carlyns.

Thinking of Yael, who had been dragged away earlier, I headed down to the basement.

Snap!

The sharp crack of a whip hitting flesh echoed through the air. The door was slightly ajar. Pushing it open, I saw Yael crouched in the corner, arms wrapped around his head.

For such a tall, imposing man, he looked utterly defeated. He didn't resist, didn't struggle—just like Taylor before him. Yael could've easily dodged the glass Amber had thrown at him earlier, but he hadn't.

This family was a tragedy. The mother wasn't a mother, and the sons weren't sons.

Yael was wearing a plain white T-shirt, its back torn open to reveal raw, bloody wounds. His skin was ripped apart, the damage grotesque. And yet, aside from clutching his head, he made no move to defend himself.

My mind flashed back to the first time I saw him—crouched under a tree, his arms wrapped around his head in the same way.

I stepped forward, my voice cold. "Haven't you had enough?"

The tall man in black didn't even glance at me, raising the whip for another strike.

I didn't dare attack him recklessly. Instead, I knelt beside Yael, wrapping my arms around him, just like I used to when we were kids.

The man hesitated. Without a word, he dropped the whip and left.

Yael turned to me, his eyes lighting up with a fragile, hopeful glimmer. "Chloe, you're here."

"Why didn't you dodge?" I demanded.

His gaze drifted into the distance, his voice soft and resigned. "There's no point. I can't escape."

It sounded like he wasn't just talking about the beating but his entire life—his fate, his bond with Amber. No matter how far he ran, he would always be her son—blood ties can't be severed.

"Come on. Let's get you out of here."

I helped him to his feet and guided him back to his bedroom. True to his word, he'd replaced the sheets with brand-new ones, decorated with pink bunnies.

Ignoring his injuries, he pulled out a pair of matching pink bunny slippers and handed them to me with a shy smile. "Chloe, I prepared these for you. And a fresh towel too."

"Where's the first aid kit?" I asked.

"Right here," he said eagerly, handing it to me. His eyes sparkled like a child showing off a treasure. "Chloe, are you going to patch me up? I'm sorry I couldn't protect you. How did you get away? She didn't hurt you, did she?"

I shook my head. "I'm fine ... "

He took off his shirt, revealing a back so battered it was hard to look at.

The way he moved so casually suggested this wasn't his first punishment.

Suddenly, I remembered the ointment he used on me back on the island. Could it have been his scar removal cream?