Loved You Once But He's My Forever (Chloe) novel Chapter 446

Whitney was completely stunned. She had only known part of the truth, but hearing these horrifying details spill out of Wisteria's mouth was too much for her to process. She clutched her hand over her mouth, gagging as though she might vomit.

Seeing her in that state, Wisteria strolled over to her, bending down to meet her eye level.

"What's wrong? Just hearing it makes you sick, doesn't it? Oh, the great eldest daughter of the Sanders, so noble and untouchable. You and your sister really are lucky, aren't you? One of you comes back from the dead, and the other—though clearly a prisoner—is shielded by Taylor. He restricts your freedom, and you think that's unfair? Without him, you'd have been killed a thousand times over by now, used up, tossed out, and dumped in the ocean to feed the fish! Look at that face of yours. Such a pity ... Is this how you seduced Taylor?"

As she spoke, Wisteria's crazed mind took over. She grabbed a dagger and began tracing it lightly across Whitney's face. "Tell me, if I ruin your face, will Taylor still care about you? How dare he love you—you, an enemy of ours!"

The moment the blade pressed against Whitney's skin, my heart clenched. "Whitney!" I shouted, panic rising in my chest.

But Dominic kicked the dagger out of Wisteria's hand with a single, sharp move. His expression turned ice-cold. "What are you doing?"

Silas's death had clearly broken Wisteria. I could sense it—the Carlyns were losing control of her.

She was like a wild horse running rampant, hellbent on dragging everyone down with her into destruction.

"Uncle Dominic, why are you so nervous? Aren't you the one who was so willing to ruin your life for love, happy to play the other man and let Aunt Amber do whatever she wanted to your son? And now you're here acting like a protective father," she said with a twisted smirk.

"Wisteria, don't forget what you promised me," Dominic snapped, his voice low and dangerous.

It was clear that, for all his flaws, Dominic was still protecting Whitney. Of course, it made sense. He was a fool in love, and his son wasn't much different.

He feared that if anything happened to Whitney, Taylor would lose it. I felt a small sense of relief—at least Whitney wouldn't be harmed.

As for me, they didn't dare touch me, likely because of Amber.

Dominic knew exactly how much Amber cared about Carter, and since he assumed my fate was tied to Carter's, his people had always treated me with unusual courtesy.

It seemed Dominic, for all his ruthlessness, still loved his wife and son.

Maybe even by extension, he pitied the two daughters of their enemies enough to leave us alive. For that, I couldn't help but feel begrudgingly thankful.

But when Dominic's stern gaze landed on Wisteria, she backed away like a ghost retreating into the shadows.

Then, with an unnervingly cheerful and playful tone, she turned her attention to Josh. She tilted her head and smiled at him, her voice like the spoiled girl she used to be when she wanted something from him. "Daddy, go on and do it. Otherwise, Greg's going to bleed out soon," she said sweetly.

Josh gripped the axe tightly, his hands and legs trembling uncontrollably.

Breaking a leg bone was nothing like chopping wood—it couldn't be done in one clean swing. And to do it to yourself? How many people in the world had that kind of resolve?

If the first strike didn't sever the bone, the pain would surge through his entire body, overwhelming him. What came next would be even worse—a slow, agonizing torture as each dull swing chipped away at him, dragging him closer to despair.

That was exactly why they had agreed to this cruel deal.

To them, a fate worse than death was far more satisfying than a quick, merciful end.

Penelope bit her lip, crawling toward Josh, desperate to stop him. Kate, on the other hand, froze in place. She wanted to intervene, but one look at Greg's pale and broken state left her paralyzed. What could she do?

Offer her own leg instead?

After all, she wasn't truly a Sanders by blood. She was just their daughter-in-law. The Carlyns' hatred was aimed at the Sanders bloodline, not her.

Greg, his voice weak and faint, tried to stop him. "Dad, don't ... "

Josh glanced from Greg's face to mine, his expression unreadable.

He didn't say anything, but after so many years of calling him "Dad," I knew exactly what he wanted to say.

He wanted to apologize. But his pride wouldn't let him say the words.

Then, without any hesitation, he swung the axe down hard onto his own shin.

He had poured all his strength into that swing, trying to cut through the bone in one go.

Maybe he hoped to make it quick, to spare himself as much pain as possible.

"Honey!"

"Dad!"

"No!"

As Josh delivered the first blow, I barely felt anything in my chest. But when the axe came down a second time, it was like the blade had struck my own heart instead.