Part 2The Soft Touch of Love

That evening, just as I stepped into my apartment, the door violently crashed open. The jarring slam, kicked open by Dex, made my ears ache. His usually composed and dignified face was now a mask of twisted rage, his eyes swirling with an almost unbearable hatred.

“Olivia, you almost killed Ashley’s baby!”

Baby?

I froze, a horrific scene from my past life flashing through my mind. Tied to a delivery bed, I watched, helpless, as Dex, in rubber gloves, wielded a scalpel and sliced open my abdomen. Blood gushed, and I screamed, a raw, primal sound of agony, but he merely smiled—a gentle, terrifying smile.

“Don’t be afraid, it’ll be over soon.”

He’d ripped my barely formed fetus from my womb, then… right before my eyes, he’d pressed that tiny, curled-up life into the toilet.

Flush!

The sound of the water, rushing and swirling, had felt like my very soul being torn to shreds.

“Ashley’s pregnant?” I forced myself to remain calm, pretending to be unaffected.

Dex seized my jaw, his grip so fierce it felt like my bones would shatter. “What are you playing dumb for?” He sneered, then flung a stack of papers from his briefcase onto the floor. “Sign it.”

I looked down. It was a confession. It clearly stated that I admitted to framing Ashley for embezzlement. He wanted me to take the fall for her!

“Just sign it, and I’ll pretend none of this ever happened.” His voice softened, his thumb tracing a path along my cheek. “We can still get married, just like before. I’ll keep spoiling you, keep loving you.”

My stomach churned. This man truly thought I was a child he could fool! In my previous life, he had used that same tender tone to coax me into drinking drugged milk, then personally sliced open my belly.

“Dex,” I said, my voice cold. “I’ve already told my father to break off our engagement.” My gaze hardened. “I am the daughter of the Dawson family. Marrying me is your privilege, not mine. What right do you have to threaten me with it?”

His expression twisted instantly. The next second, a searing pain tore through my scalp. He yanked my hair, slamming my head hard against the coffee table!

“Bitch!”

Warm liquid trickled down my forehead. I curled into a ball on the floor, his gleaming leather shoe pressing down on my hand. The pain made my vision swim, but I bit down hard on my lip, refusing to make a sound.

Dex leaned over, his fingers tightening around my throat, his voice chilling, as if pulled from the depths of hell. “Are you going to sign, or not?”

“Never… in your dreams!” I choked out, each word a struggle.

A cold glint flashed in his eyes. He suddenly snatched the fruit knife from the coffee table and plunged it fiercely into my palm!

“Ah!”

Blood splattered onto his pristine white shirt, blooming like crimson roses. My body convulsed with agony, but he held my wrist down, his grip unyielding.

“This is just the beginning.” He raised the knife again, this time pointing the blade at my stomach. “I imagine you wouldn’t want to experience being cut open again, would you?”

In that instant, his sinister face merged with the one from my past. Seeing the ruthless glint in his eyes, my heart seized with a sudden, panicked beat.

He remembered too. He had been reborn.

The memory of that searing, soul-shattering pain made me tremble uncontrollably. “I’ll sign…” I stammered, extending my uninjured left hand.

Dex’s face broke into a satisfied smile. He pressed a pen into my fingers. Blood dripped onto the paper, blurring as I scrawled my name, intentionally tearing the paper on the last stroke.

“Do you really think this will save Ashley?” I whispered, a weak, mocking laugh escaping my lips. “Even if you force me to sign, can you silence me? Dex, we’ll meet in court. I’ll expose every single one of your crimes right there.”

This time, my father was alive. As long as he was here, I feared nothing.

His expression instantly became savage, and he clamped his hand around my throat. “You worthless bitch!”

But just as quickly, he let out a cold chuckle and released me. I clutched my throat, gasping for air, and looked up to see his chilling, malicious smile.

“This is your choice. I have plenty of ways to shut you up.” He snarled, then turned and left without another glance.

A wave of dread washed over me, a strong premonition of disaster. Soon enough, that premonition proved true.

“Miss Dawson! You have to come quickly! The warehouse is on fire!”