Broken kingdom

Chapter 52 Bianca

“How long have you been fucking him behind my back?” 

The accusation whips through me like a belt. 

And the worst part is…there’s absolutely nothing I can say to defend myself. 

Because he’s right. 

I might not have been physically cheating on him with Oakley—well, until today—but my heart definitely didn’t belong to Stone. 

And if I’m being completely honest with myself, it hasn’t for a while. 

I just kept hoping things would get better between us. 

But now I’m realizing that while I care about Stone…what I felt for him wasn’t love. 

It was security. 

Stone was the refuge and safe haven the new Bianca desperately needed after the accident. 

But now that I’m able to stand on my own two feet again…he’s not what I need now. 

I don’t try to make excuses or deny it. Instead, I woman the fuck up, look him in the eyes, and apologize. 

“I’m sorry.” 

His face twists in disgust as he gets off the bed and charges toward me. “So you admit it? You’ve been fucking him behind my back.” 

I’m not sure getting into the gritty details of what Oakley and I did will make anything better for him. “It doesn’t matter.” I hold his gaze. “You have every right to hate me, but I never meant to hurt you.” 

It’s the truth. I didn’t want this to be our ending. 

I didn’t want to be the one to rip his heart out. 

The princess turned wicked villain in his story. 

Looking back, I should have ended things between us a long time ago. 

But I didn’t, because I was scared of hurting him. 

Scared of letting him go because our relationship had gotten complacent and comfortable. 

Until Oakley showed up and flipped everything on its head because I realized what I’d been missing and felt this intense co

I hand Stone back his ring. “Give this to someone who deserves it.” 

Someone who won’t hurt him. 

Eyes going wide, Stone starts pacing. “I did everything for you.” The glare he shoots me is almost threatening. “I loved you, asked you to spend the rest of your life with me…and you fucking cheated on me with that lowlife junkie. What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

“Stone,” I warn, the tiny hairs on my arms standing on end. “I get that you’re upset, but talking shit about Oakley won’t change—”

“Don’t you fucking say his name.” He punches the wall beside my head. “Don’t you dare fucking say his name like he means something. He means nothing, and he is no one.” He points at his chest. “Because I picked up your fucked-up pieces and made you a better person while that crackhead loser was stuck in a jail cell for killing an i

There’s no use arguing with him. He’s upset and lashing out. 

Which means he can’t see past his own tu

 “I’m sorry.” 

He shakes his head, his dark eyes glistening with tears. “That’s the thing, Bourne. I don’t think you are.” Anger illuminates his features. “God, I let you inside my head…inside my heart. You were nothing but a poisonous, worthless cunt who deserved to die…but I craved you. Goddammit, I fucking craved you.” He grips my chin forcefully. “And then I got you…and you sucked the life out of me until you broke me.” 

My chest sinks with remorse. Watching him unravel like this hurts far worse than I expected it to. 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” I whisper. “I care—

“No, you don’t.” He jabs his head with his pointer finger. “You don’t fucking care about me.” 

“Yes—”

Words die in my throat when he pulls a knife out of his pocket. “Then prove it.” He holds the blade up to his jugular. “Prove it or I’ll slit my goddamn throat and end it.” 

My stomach cramps up and the room starts spi

He’s found my Achilles’ heel. 

Because he knows the thought of losing another person I care about to suicide would utterly destroy me, and I’ll do literally anything to prevent that from happening. 

“Stone,” I say slowly. “Please, put the knife down. Harming yourself isn’t the answer. You have people who love you. People who care—” 

“Prove you’re still one of them.” He presses the blade deeper against his skin, challenging me. “Or else.” 

I know enough about psychology to know there’s a certain approach you have to take with someone who’s reached their breaking point. 

Right now, he needs to feel like he’s in control. 

That he’s not losing everything. 

That his life didn’t end just because our relationship did. 

“What do you need?” 

His answer is automatic. “I need you to call that piece of shit and end it with him for good.” His nostrils flare. “Right fucking now.” 

I look down at the phone in my hand. “Okay. I can do that.” 

I start to dial 911, hoping they’ll overhear our conversation and send help, but Stone’s already onto me.

“Goodbye, Bi—”

“No,” I quickly say. “I’ll do it.” 

“Tell him we’re eloping tonight,” he demands. “That you made a mistake and can’t be with a killer.” 

For a moment, I honestly consider not doing what he wants because the thought of saying that to the man I love is…

A shudder rolls through me. 

Stone’s sick and he needs help. 

After I get him that help, I can explain everything to Oakley. 

Oakley picks up after the second ring. “Hey.”

I force myself to remain detached and unaffected because Stone’s eyeing me like a hawk. “I can’t do this anymore.” 

Oakley sounds so confused, it breaks my heart. “What—”

I don’t let him get a word in because it will only make it hurt worse. “I can’t…I’m in love with Stone. What happened between us was a mistake.”

I can hear his sharp inhale of breath over the extension. “You don’t mean that.” 

“Yes, I do.” I try to ignore the way my heart pinches. “But even if I didn’t love Stone, I can’t be with a killer.” 

Oakley goes silent. 

Stone narrows his eyes, urging me to say the rest. 

“We’re eloping tonight, putting everything behind us and starting fresh. Please don’t contact me again, Oak.” 

With those parting words, I hang up. 

“Is that good enough—”

The knife Stone was holding falls to the floor and his hand wraps around my throat and squeezes. 

I barely have time to register what’s happening before his fist goes flying into my mouth. 

Everything inside me shatters. 

It’s almost a surreal, out-of-body experience. As if my brain doesn’t want to accept the fact that in the blink of an eye, I just became the girl whose fiancé punched her. 

Correction—ex-fiancé. 

Shame snakes up my spine. 

There was a time when he used to give me butterflies…but now all I see are the warning signs I’ve excused. 

Like his need to control my every move, the way he ridiculed my outfits, how he’d screw me while I was sleeping…or pinch my thigh when I said the wrong thing in front of his friends. 

The first time he called me a slut.

And the last time he tried to control me by mistaking my kindness for weakness just so he could manipulate me. 

Because he sure as fuck won’t get a chance to do it again. 

God, the fact that he actually thought I was the kind of girl he could do this to is revolting. 

Because I’m sure as hell fucking not.