Rebirth Swapped Bride: Married to a Ruthless Cursed billionaire Book2-Chapter 162: I will not divorce you

Chapter 162: I will not divorce you
"Annul the marriage?
Since when is that your decision to make alone?
Beauty, don’t even think about it!"
"You’ll never escape my grasp in this lifetime."
Lucas’s icy eyes darkened, his brow twitching violently as his hands clamped onto her shoulders, his entire body trembling with barely restrained fury.
"Dream on!
There’s no door or window for you to slip through.
If you refuse to come back with me today, I swear I’ll have this place torn down—mark my words."
His threat struck home.
Beauty swayed slightly, her soft lips pressing into a thin line.
With a bitter laugh, she retorted, "Lucas, why must you be so ruthless?
I’m grateful for all you’ve done for me over the years, and I’ll repay you if I ever get the chance.
But can’t you just let me go?
You’re the most eligible bachelor in New York—women throw themselves at you.
Why insist on me?"
His pupils dilated, fingers tightening until her bones ached under his grip.
"Grateful?
Is this how you show it?"
His voice dripped with venom.
"I won’t give you what you want.
And you know better than anyone what happens to those who cross Lucas.
I’ll make sure you can’t stay here for a single day.
Wherever you go, I’ll follow.
And if you dare get involved with anyone else—" He leaned in, his breath scalding.
"—I’ll have him castrated.
Believe me."
His hands trailed upward like burning brands, leaving searing marks on her skin, scorching her heart.
The predatory hunger in his eyes, the raw possessiveness, sent tremors through her body.
She wanted to flee, but she was powerless—trapped, her body yielding to his control.
"Beauty," he sneered, "where else would I find someone as obedient and easy to control as you?
They say a man should keep his wife at home while playing the field.
Why shouldn’t I try it?
You claimed you didn’t care, didn’t you?
Fine.
Then crawl back home and play the role of my wife in name only.
Stay out of my private life."
Her face flushed crimson, eyes blazing with defiance.
If there was no escaping him, why not do as he said?
Stay as his nominal wife, their lives separate.
"Fine!" she spat.
"From now on, we stay out of each other’s way.
You can keep being New York’s most sought-after bachelor, flitting from flower to flower without commitment.
I’ll remain the unnoticed adopted girl.
I won’t interfere with your love life—and you stay out of mine."
A cold chuckle escaped him.
Lucas suddenly let out a chilling laugh, his eyes sharp as a blade.
What freedom could she possibly have, let alone the freedom to love?
If he could tear her apart from that Dayson back then, he could certainly drive away every man around her now by any means necessary.
"I agree," he said coolly. Beauty was stunned.
She hadn’t expected this man to concede so easily—he wasn’t the compromising type.
Was this some kind of trap?
"You... why are you suddenly so agreeable?"
Lucas smirked, a cold snort escaping his nose.
"Don’t you hate me?
Having a wife who doesn’t care enough to be jealous or control me—shouldn’t I be thrilled?"
Fine.
She’d trust him this one last time.
Right now, what other choice did she even have?
"I’m staying at Hannah’s place tonight.
I’ll return to the villa tomorrow myself—no need for you to trouble yourself, Mr. Marson."
Beauty lifted her chin slightly, her cool gaze resting indifferently on his expressionless face.
She’d already showered here—no way was she going back to that gilded cage tonight.
After finally escaping, she deserved at least one evening of freedom.
"Fine.
I’ll be away on business tomorrow.
Make sure you return to the villa obediently.
The butler will your movements to me—don’t think you can slip away unnoticed."
Damn this man!
Beauty seethed inwardly.
This was nothing short of imprisonment.
Could she this hypocritical man to the police and have him arrested?
For imprisoning her for ten years and subjecting her to sexual abuse.
The thought made her sigh deeply.
But what good would it do?
The adoption papers and contracts all bore her signature and fingerprint.
The police wouldn’t even take her case seriously.
She could only resign herself to her misfortune.
Why was she the only one with such a wretched fate?
Little did she know, countless women around the world would kill to be in her shoes—to be "imprisoned" by Lucas, to throw themselves at him willingly.
Sometimes, women truly didn’t know how good they had it.
Only after Lucas left did she finally exhale in relief, steadying herself against the arm of the sofa for a long moment.
When her heartbeat finally returned to normal, she trudged toward her room.
Pushing the door open, she found Hannah sprawled on the bed, flipping through a comic.
The girl immediately perked up, eyes gleaming with mischief as she gave her a once-over.
Eyebrows arched high, Hannah teased, "Wow, you two finished *that* fast?"
"Shut up!
He’s never that quick—it’s always at least three hours!"
*Ugh!* The words slipped out before she could stop them, and her face instantly burned.
*Damn it, I’m picking up his bad habits now.*
Hannah smirked.
"Looks like President Marson didn’t completely devour his little bunny after all.
But wow, your nightgown’s a mess—tsk tsk tsk.
That ’Uncle Marson’ of yours really is rough, huh?
Go take a shower.
I don’t even wanna get near you right now."
The memory flashed back—Beauty’s clothes nearly yanked off her shoulders by Lucas.
*Typical pent-up old man.*
But then again... a *hot*, pent-up old man. That made all the difference.
Beauty’s back was slick with sweat, carrying the musky scent of a man.
She lowered her head, took a whiff, and immediately bolted toward the bathroom.
The relaxing soak she’d just enjoyed was now utterly wasted, leaving her even more irritated.
Inside the shower, she scrubbed herself furiously, lathering every inch of her body with soap until white suds flew everywhere.
She wished she could peel off a layer of skin just to rid herself of the lingering sensation.
The memory of Lucas’s hands—searing like hot iron—flashed through her mind.
Why hadn’t she resisted?
How could she have even felt the slightest bit of pleasure?
She must have lost her mind!
Sleep eluded her the entire night.
Tossing and turning on her best friend’s plush bed, she barely dared to move, afraid of disturbing her.
Even the slightest shift was done with painstaking care.
Her thoughts raced wildly, like a lovestruck teenager.
*Beauty, oh Beauty how could you let a man unravel you with just his hands?
Where’s your dignity?
She pressed her palm against the spot where he had touched her, and instantly, her heart pounded like a drum.
By the time she finally drifted off, it was already 2 a.m.
Perhaps the heavens had finally heard her pleas, granting her a deep and dreamless sleep.
She didn’t wake until well past noon the next day, feeling utterly refreshed.