The Otherside Of Love || Sadistic Billionaire

Natalie’s POV

Social media? Who cares about social media? How could he stand here and ask me about social media while my body is in this state?

How could he do this to me? After his private time with Debbie, he dared to touch me? To treat me like trash? I couldn’t tolerate looking into his eyes, not after seeing those ugly bruises that covered my skin, evident from his occupation of my body.

He slammed the door with the flat heel of his shoe, his cold eyes piercing into me, emanating a dark aura that seemed to fill the room. After a quick glance, sizing him up, I averted my gaze, not wanting to see his face. Wrapping my arms protectively around my chest, I snapped, “Where am I?”

He didn’t reply. Even though I wasn’t looking at him, I could feel his movements as he approached me with steady steps. When he came closer, I defensively took a few steps back, retreating until my back touched the cold surface of the mirror behind me. The look in his eyes was strange, something odd I had never seen before.

His silence frightened me. I swallowed the saliva that had formed in my throat and asked again, this time with anger, “Where the hell am I? And why are you asking me about social media?” I tried to appear strong and confident while shouting at him.

“Hell?” he asked in a dangerously flat tone, raising an eyebrow. “You’re going to see hell soon.”

How dare he?

Still threatening me while he was hooking up with his so-called fiancee?

I don’t know where I got the audacity to slap him-maybe from the thought of him flattering another woman?

However, I raised my hand high and slapped him with all my might. I wanted him to feel my pain. The loud sound of the slap echoed in the spacious room. The shock on his face showed he didn’t see that coming. I felt satisfied.

He needed just half a second to regain his composure and clench my chin tightly in his grip. The dark, gloomy gaze in his eyes made me feel anxious. A cold sweat formed on my back despite the cold mirror behind me.

The considerate man who pampered me and showered me with gifts and care days ago no longer existed. I could feel it. I wanted to ask him about Debbie and why she was with him then, and why she answered his phone in the first place, but my dignity prevented me from doing so-especially now, when he was acting like an asshole.

“Let go of me. You don’t have the right to threaten me or even touch me,” I said, timing my sentence by pulling his grip from my jaw.

He bit his lower lip, the anger obvious in his gaze. He held my nape with one hand, while his other hand boldly surfed my body. “What did you say? I don’t have the right to touch you?” he said.

“If I don’t have the right, then who does?” he shouted, pulling my hair, making me tense from the pain.

“Let go of me!” I exclaimed in pain, trying to pry his hand off my hair.

“Not before you answer,” he exclaimed back, his grip tightening.

“Answer what?” I asked, still trying to pull his hand out of my hair.

He finally let go of my hair, then pulled his phone from his pocket and handed it to me after surfing it for seconds. “See the whore you became,” he spat out bitterly.

A whore!

His words hurt me, but I still took his phone and glared at the video that was displayed. My eyes widened, and I froze. What was displayed in front of me was not a dream after all; it had happened in reality.

He held my chin tightly again, squeezing my jaw, and roared, “The whole world saw you, Natalie.”

One tear rolled down my cheek, hot with humiliation. How did I let this happen? I was almost naked, men were touching me in a disgusting way, I was dancing like a whore.

The tears flowed down my burning cheeks. I felt utterly ruined.

I felt like it was all over.

My reputation was trampled underfoot.

My legs could no longer support me, and I sank to the ground, slamming my body onto the cold marble floor. A heavy weight pressed down on my chest, and through tear-filled eyes, I looked up at Rafael, seeking comfort, but his disarrayed, cold gaze offered none.

Five days had passed, and I was still confined to the small villa where I found myself after that ominous night. Carefully, I slipped out of bed, making an effort not to wake Rafael. Heading downstairs, I was clad only in his shirt. I didn’t have any clothes of my own, except for the underwear I had on when he brought me here, and he hadn’t offered to buy me any. In fact, he hadn’t even left the villa once. I found myself constantly changing between his shirts, until his scent lingered on my skin.

I stood before the swimming pool, cradling a mug of coffee between my hands, my gaze fixed on the serene blue water. Memories flooded back of the day I swam naked in his apartment pool, as if it were a century ago. So much had changed between us since then.Exclusive © material by Nô(/v)elDrama.Org.

I sighed heavily, my eyes drawn to the bruises that marred my body. We had been intimate these past five days, in various places-the bed, the red room. I examined my body, my heart weighed down with regret. I knew I had made a mistake, one I couldn’t undo. Even though it was unintentional, I had to bear the consequences.

But who was the man from that night?

Suddenly, the atmosphere tensed as I caught a whiff of his perfume, my heartbeat quickening. The mug between my hands shook ever so slightly.

He had been punishing me for the past two days. The red room served as his chosen location for these punishments. During this time, we didn’t exchange many words; our interactions were limited to eating, engaging in intimacy, showering, and sleeping. It was a routine we followed, just like that.

The tense silence was broken by a single sentence.

“I want a divorce.”