Delete My Love for You novel Chapter 143

Darren’s voice was low and firm on the phone. “Alright. Keep an eye on Noah—I’ll be there soon.”

He hung up, then leaned down to hug Charlotte again, only for her to turn her face away, dodging his embrace.

A shadow flickered across Darren’s eyes.

Suddenly, he grabbed her chin, forcing her to face him, and pressed his lips to hers in a rough, punishing kiss.

Any insults Charlotte might have hurled at him were smothered beneath the force of his mouth.

She had no choice but to endure it.

Only when she was breathless did he finally let her go.

He threw back the comforter and got out of bed, his tone commanding. “Stay here. Don’t go anywhere until I get back.”

As he buttoned up his shirt, his words turned threatening. “If you try to run, I’ll make sure you never see Noah again.”

Charlotte’s reply was cool, almost indifferent. “I don’t want to see him anyway.”

“You—!”

Fury burned behind Darren’s eyes. His fingers tightened around his tie as he tried to contain his anger.

But then he noticed the edge of the comforter had slipped down, revealing the marks scattered across her bare back—evidence of last night’s conquest.

Her wrists, still cuffed to the bedframe, were red and raw where the metal had rubbed too hard. She hadn’t complained, not even once.

Darren swallowed hard, tamping down the urge to lash out.

Within moments, he had his tie perfectly knotted and was bracing himself on the headboard, about to lean in closer—

Charlotte’s voice, light and almost taunting, drifted up. “Aren’t you leaving yet?”

He froze.

Why did this scene feel so familiar?

Suddenly the memory hit him—years ago, after he’d had his fill, he’d kicked her out of bed without a second thought.

She’d crawled back to pull the blanket over him, and he’d snapped coldly, “Charlotte, get out.”

Now, unbelievably, she was the one telling him to leave.

Darren looked down at her. “Don’t think you can push your luck just because I let you get away with things. When I get tired of your body, even if you beg for me, I won’t give you a second glance.”

He grabbed his jacket and strode out.

Every time he touched her, he’d tear her clothes to shreds—always rough, always violent.

This time was no different.

She couldn’t exactly walk out of here naked…

Her eyes caught on the master closet.

She pushed herself to her feet, ignoring the ache in her legs, and opened the closet door. Her pupils narrowed in surprise.

Inside were rows of uniforms, lingerie, stockings—outfits she’d bought, years ago, to please him.

Two years had passed, yet he hadn’t thrown any of it out.

Not just that—the shirts, suits, and belts she’d given him for birthdays, anniversaries, holidays, every special occasion—each one cleaned and pressed, neatly arranged.

Charlotte lingered in the doorway, her gaze lingering on those silent reminders of the past.

Anniversaries, his birthdays, Valentine’s, Christmas—she’d poured her heart into making those moments special, always giving, even though he’d never returned the favor or spoken a single kind word.

Yesterday’s pain replayed in her mind—humiliation disguised as memory.

She let out a cold, brittle laugh and turned away from those old tokens of defeat. Without another glance, she selected something practical to wear, dressed quickly, and headed for the door.