Chapter 4

Vanessa Hale sending me to the Crawford Research Institute as an experimental subject was all because of him.

I was her latest fascination, but Marcus Sterling was her “white knight,” holding a permanent place in her heart.

So, she believed every word he said.

Marcus narrowly escaped a car accident that almost disfigured him. He accused me, claiming I had cut his brake lines simply because his car was parked at the Hale Estate for a couple of days.

Important documents went missing from his office, derailing a crucial business deal. The next day, those same documents mysteriously appeared in my room.

A few days later, Marcus, with a noticeable limp, approached Vanessa and claimed it was all my doing. He said I had even hired people to beat him up, leaving him near death, almost taking him away from her forever.

Vanessa didn’t hesitate; she believed him without question.

She froze all my bank accounts and confined me to a room under round-the-clock surveillance. I couldn’t step outside, not even for the bathroom, without being watched.

I was furious. It felt like a violation of my basic dignity.

When Marcus showed up, gloating and smug, I grabbed a vase and threw it at him without thinking.

I never expected him to stay rooted, making no move to dodge. The vase hit him squarely on the forehead.

Blood trickled down slowly.

The surveillance cameras captured everything in perfect clarity.

For the first time, Vanessa Hale lost her composure. Her face was a storm of rage, but her hands were gentle as she touched Marcus’ bleeding head, before rushing him to Mercy Hill Medical Center.

This time, there was no defense I could make.

Vanessa listened to Marcus’ suggestion and sent me to Crawford for “training.”

“You’ve really let me down this time, Zachary. I hope that when you come back, you’ll understand your mistakes,” she said, disappointment written all over her face.

In the lab, I endured two brutal beatings before Marcus himself showed up.

He ordered the guards to inject me with that black serum and forced a three-day-old dead rat into my mouth, making me swallow it.

Then he lifted the mask off one of the guards. I knew that face well.

It was Robert Lang, Vanessa’s personal bodyguard—and once mine.

So, Vanessa had known all along.

I felt my resolve disintegrate, my spirit crushed, leaving me an empty shell.

My brokenness drew stares, and Vanessa’s expression grew displeased.

She leaned in, whispering in my ear, “Zachary Monroe, I thought you’d changed, but you’re still the same. Do you want to go back to ‘training’?”

Fear gripped me, and I almost dropped to my knees. But I realized we were standing at the entrance of Sterling Enterprises—I couldn’t embarrass her here.

I swallowed my instinct and stayed upright.

To Marcus, the whisper appeared intimate, and a shadow of jealousy darkened his face.

He walked up quickly, pulling me into a strong embrace.

But it wasn’t just an embrace. He squeezed my wounds with enough pressure to make my teeth clench, cold sweat trickling down my back.

I didn’t dare react. Screaming meant punishment—it was instinctual now.

Years of torment had hardwired that into me.

“It’s all in the past now. Let’s make amends,” Marcus said, extending his hand.

I hesitated, and Vanessa slapped my shoulder hard.

“What’s wrong with you? He’s offering peace, and you’re standing there like a fool?”

Her slap landed right on a painful spot. I felt the blood seeping slowly under my shirt, concealed only by the black fabric.

The stumble didn’t go unnoticed by Marcus.

He stepped closer, a sly smirk on his face, and punched me in the chest.

“Looks like your training paid off, brother. Your chest is as solid as steel—it even hurt my hand,” he said, pretending to massage his knuckles.

A muffled groan escaped my lips as I suppressed the pain. My chest, wrapped tightly in bandages, still bore the remnants of four broken ribs from the institute.

Vanessa noticed my slight reaction and shot me a sharp glance.

“Enough with the act. Get in, now,” she commanded.

I followed her unsteadily.

This was Sterling Enterprises’ luxury swimwear launch.

Models in swimsuits strutted down the runway, showcasing the latest designs.

A mischievous coworker called out, “Hey, I heard Mr. Monroe’s been training for a year. I bet he’d look better in a swimsuit than those models! Why not have him show off?”

The crowd erupted with cheers.

The playful culture of the company often saw employees and even executives participating in shows like this.

Panic surged through me. Taking off my shirt meant exposing the network of scars covering my body. Would Vanessa really go that far?

To my horror, after a moment’s contemplation, Vanessa agreed.

Seeing my reluctance, she cast me a look of disdain before leading me backstage.

Marcus, now visibly rattled, stepped in to intervene. “Vanessa, he doesn’t seem too eager. Why not let it go? You know my physique isn’t bad either!” he added, throwing in a wink.

But Vanessa wasn’t swayed this time. “Marcus, stay out of this. He trained for a year; I need to see if it made a difference. He’ll be taking over eventually.”

With that, she led me back toward the stage.

No one saw the fleeting look of jealousy and worry that crossed Marcus’ face.

Vanessa’s hand was as soft as I remembered from our early days, back when she confessed her feelings and gave me the hope I had clung to.

But now, the warmth only felt suffocating.

The memories of a year of torment stripped any comfort they once held.

I clenched my fists, yanking my hand from hers. Her expression darkened with irritation.

“Zachary, what’s your problem?”

“This isn’t for you; it’s to pave the way for the future. Didn’t you once say we should face everything together?”

For a moment, a touch of tenderness returned to her eyes. But I was trapped, whispering, “Shouldn’t it be Marcus standing with you for that?”

Vanessa’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean? I would never—”

Before she could finish, I dropped to my knees, bowing my head. “Please, Ms. Hale, I’m just a lowly dog. I’m not worthy of you. Let me go.”

“I was wrong. I shouldn’t have crossed Marcus. My jealousy was my downfall. I’ve paid for it. Treat me like the garbage I am and throw me away!”

Vanessa’s eyes flared with anger. “Zachary Monroe, I didn’t send you to that place to come back as a broken man. Looks like you’re hopeless.”

Her words struck a strange note. Was she saying that sending me there was supposed to be for my good?

How absurd.

Suppressing the bitter taste rising in my throat, I continued my act. “Yes, yes, I’m worthless. Marcus Sterling is the one worthy of you.”

Before I could finish—

“Enough, Zachary! You’re insufferable!”

I staggered behind them, trying to keep up.

This was Sterling Enterprises’ launch event for their new luxury swimwear line.

The runway was full of models clad in sleek, high-end swimwear, showcasing the latest collection.

Suddenly, one of the more mischievous colleagues shouted, “I heard Mr. Monroe’s been through a year of intense training. From the looks of it, his chest muscles put the models’ to shame. How about Mr. Monroe tries on a swimsuit and gives us a show?”

The room erupted in laughter and chatter.

Marcus Sterling’s confident expression faltered for the first time, his smile fading.

Terror gripped me. Stripping down would mean exposing the web of scars that crisscrossed my body. Would Vanessa Hale really push me to that point, tearing away even this final shroud of dignity?