He firmly believed that she killed his beloved woman and sent her to jail in his own hands, destroying all her love for him.
After years of torture and pain, he was not the sunshine of her world but the Satan of hell.
When she got out of the prison, he again imprisoned her in his hell like world.
Finally, she managed to escape from the devil trap.
However, as soon as she left, the man turned crazy looking for her all over the world…
Chapter 1
Rain poured like a waterfall from the sky, soaking everything. Rachel Morris stood outside the sleek black car, her body trembling from the cold. She stared into the tinted window, eyes wide with desperation.
“It’s not me! Please, believe me!” she shouted, voice shaking but fierce.
Inside the car, through the fogged glass, she could see his stern face—Eric Nelson, the man she loved. But he didn’t look at her with affection. His eyes were filled with something dark and unforgiving.
“Eric! Just let me explain!” she begged.
The car door suddenly opened. For a second, hope flared in her chest. Maybe he would finally listen. But before she could react, a hand grabbed her and yanked her into the car. She fell onto him, her wet clothes clinging to his dry shirt.
“Eric, I swear, I didn’t arrange for those men to hurt Helen—”
His hand clamped around her chin, hard and cold.
“You like me that much?” His voice was low, tinged with smoke and ice.
Rachel froze, confused. Of course, she liked him. Everyone knew it. But why ask that now?
His fingers brushed her wet cheek, and for a fleeting second, she thought maybe—just maybe—he still cared.
But then his eyes turned cruel.
“You like me so much, you’d kill Helen?”
His words hit her like a slap. The warmth vanished, replaced by ice crawling up her spine.
“I never meant—” she began.
“You didn’t mean to kill her? Just to have her raped?” he snapped, voice growing louder. “You bribed those thugs!”
He didn’t give her time to speak. Instead, he tore at her clothes, his fury bursting out without restraint.
“Ah!” Rachel cried as he shoved her out into the rain, half-naked, bruised, and humiliated.
“Rachel Morris,” his voice rang out through the storm, colder than the rain, “what you did to Helen, I’ll return to you. How does it feel to be stripped and thrown away?”
She gasped, looking back at him in disbelief. He sat inside, wiping his fingers with a handkerchief like she was something filthy.
“Go back,” he said. “I’m tired.”
“Eric, please… I didn’t—”
“It’s not impossible for me to listen,” he interrupted, mocking her. “Kneel outside the manor for one night. Maybe if I’m in the mood, I’ll give you ten minutes.”
He slammed the door shut. The handkerchief he’d used fluttered down into the mud before her.
Rachel stood there for a moment, stunned. Then she bent down, picked up the soaked fabric, and stared at the closed gates ahead.
She walked to the iron gates of Nelson Manor and dropped to her knees.
She didn’t kneel for forgiveness.
She knelt because Helen had been her friend. She needed to mourn, not because she was guilty, but because no one else believed her.
Her clothes clung to her skin. She was cold, soaked, and humiliated—but her back remained straight. Her pride, though battered, held her head up. She was Rachel from Shanghai, and she wasn’t going to give up without being heard.
Would he come?
Would he give her those ten minutes?
Would anyone ever believe her?
The rain never stopped.
By dawn, she was still kneeling.
The iron gates finally creaked open. The old butler, Mr. Evans, stood under a black umbrella, immaculate despite the rain. He tossed a coat at her.
“Miss Morris, Mr. Nelson asks that you leave.”
Rachel grabbed the coat with trembling fingers, her voice hoarse. “I want to see him.”
The old butler’s face remained unreadable. “Mr. Nelson says your presence pollutes this place. He doesn’t want to see you again.”
Her shoulders trembled despite her best efforts to stay calm. Still, she stood up.
“I didn’t arrange those gangsters,” she said quietly. “I would never hurt Helen. I won’t accept your hatred without reason.”
Evans narrowed his eyes, disgust darkening his face.
“Helen was my daughter. She’d never set foot in a nightclub. But she died, violated by criminals in a filthy bar. And before it happened, she messaged you—‘I’m at ONE Club. Where are you?’”
He stepped closer, eyes full of venom.
“You lured her there. You’re jealous because Mr. Nelson loves her, not you. You couldn’t have his heart, so you tried to destroy her. How vicious can you be?”
Rachel couldn’t speak. She was nothing now. Helen, beloved and perfect, was gone. And Rachel had become a villain in everyone’s eyes.
“Mr. Nelson wanted me to pass along one more message,” Evans said sharply.
Rachel looked up, hoping—though she didn’t know why.
“He said… why wasn’t it you who died instead?”
Those words broke something inside her.
Evans turned and walked away, a cruel smirk on his face.
Rachel tried to stand, but her legs gave out. She collapsed onto the wet ground, laughing bitterly.
“Why wasn’t it me, huh? Helen, you’re gone, but I’m the one they all hate…”
Upstairs, behind the tall French windows of the manor, Eric Nelson watched her. His face showed no emotion. He sipped red wine, his eyes as sharp as ice.
“Mr. Nelson, I delivered your message,” Evans reported quietly at the door.
Eric turned from the window. His voice was calm, deadly. “Tell the Morris family—they can either keep Rachel, or stay a family. Not both.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Also, erase her from the university records. Let it look like she never even graduated high school. Spread the word—she was expelled for sleeping around and fighting.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And finally…” Eric’s tone dropped to a freezing whisper. “Send her to prison.”
Evans paused in shock. “Prison?”
“She bribed criminals. She murdered Helen. Three years.”
Even though there was no hard evidence, Eric didn’t care. He wanted her punished.
Evans’ eyes filled with tears. “Thank you, Mr. Nelson. I couldn’t touch her because she’s a Morris. But now… now she’ll pay.”
Eric turned away from the window, watching Rachel’s figure fade into the rain. His fingers clenched the wineglass.
“I’m doing this,” he muttered, “not because she hurt your daughter—but because she hurt the woman I loved.”
Rachel returned to the Morris home, broken and exhausted.
But the gates didn’t open.
The loyal butler of the Morris family stood outside, eyes cold. “You’ve been disowned.”
She hadn’t even seen her parents. Hadn’t heard a word from them.
So this was it.
She was no longer Rachel of the Morris family. The iron gate behind her had shut forever.
She turned to leave—but two officers in uniform stepped in her way.
“Rachel Morris, you are under arrest for bribery and instigating an assault that led to Helen Evans’ death. Please come with us.”
As they took her away, she saw Eric watching from above.
“I didn’t hurt Helen,” she said, firm and clear.
Eric stepped forward slowly.
She kept her chin up, doing her best not to flinch, though her shoulders trembled.
He saw it all—and still, he turned away.