Hellbound Heart

[WARNING: MATURE CONTENT] - [MAIN STORY IS COMPLETED] Izabelle had underestimated the fire she thought she was going to play with tonight. But how could she ever have foreseen that the man she had happened to come across with does not play with just a small fire, but a whole inferno? ___ Excerpt: "You going through this marriage with me might as well be like you digging your own grave. Because the moment you start to want more from me, I will divorce you. And the moment you break your promise and try to fight me… I will ruin you and break you apart completely. Mercilessly. You will regret ever meeting this devil tonight." His threat was given in the same soft but cold voice. But Elle did not even flinch. Her gaze never faltered either. This man was ruthless, and she knew that clearly. His eyes that moment promised nightmares and darkness without any promise of respite. But no matter what he says now, it would still not change her decision. She truly had no other choice. "I understand now…" she said quietly, steeling herself. "Since you don't trust that I will keep my word, how about we do this? You prepare the divorce documents beforehand now and I'll sign it. That way, once you decide to divorce me in the future, the papers would already have been signed and there would be no way I can trouble you about it. You would just need to send it to the lawyers and have it notarized." A heavy silence reigned before his quiet disbelieving laugh broke the silence. "I'm at a loss for words, Princess Izabelle." He looked wickedly amused. But then he started nodding in approval. "Fine, princess. I will marry you." ___ Instagram account: kazzenlx.x facebook page: author_kazzenlx Discord server: https://discord.gg/UGTA3A4 Cover is mine so don't use it. Cover Art by @azihidalgo Logo by @gisel.arts

KazzenlX · Fantasy

Not enough ratings

393 Chs

Accidentally

Elle had put the telephone lying on top of the table, leaving it there to continue ringing.

Standing by the door, Elle clutched a porcelain vase tightly in her hands, ready to strike anyone who managed to enter. The moment she heard the sounds of the doorknob being twisted a while ago, she had immediately grabbed the only vase in the room, about the size of a one-liter wine bottle, threw out the fake flowers in it and rushed towards the door.

It seemed that her survival instincts had prompted her to move instead of just standing there frozen to the spot and behave as a helpless damsel that was paralyzed by her fear.

She stared hard at the doorknob. She had initially thought that she was not going to make it, but for some reason, the door did not fling open as she was expecting. It was almost as though the person behind the door had hesitated. Which was suspicious. Did someone interrupt them?

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