The Hurt Of Billionaire

"He coldly declared, advancing and shattering the fragile space around me, 'You're not my wife, got it?' His words pierced my already strained senses." "In this coerced marriage, I'll remind you – it's circumstances dictating our union. If you absorb that fact quickly, it'll benefit both of us. Do you comprehend?" He forcefully pushed me against the wall, causing a sharp pain as our bodies collided. My thoughts raced with indignation – an idiot, a despicable person. All I wanted was to retaliate, to see him suffer a fraction of my discomfort. Yet, trapped in this vulnerable position, I was barely able to move. Instead, I locked eyes with him, glaring back with equal determination. I struggled, trying to escape his iron grip, which felt like being held down by a powerhouse. Despite my attempts to look away, his voice commanded my attention. "Answer me. Maintain eye contact when I speak, woman!" "Do you grasp what I've said? Can you make it any clearer for yourself?" he taunted. "Yes, I understand. I'm not your wife," I responded, the words tasting bitter. "And let me assure you," I added, spitting out each word, "I hold no desire to be yours." "Why that smug smile?" he queried, seemingly unaware of the storm brewing. I tried to mask my rising anger with a sweet facade, "Oh, you're about to find out," I replied, my tone laced with hidden resentment.