He Lost His Mind When He Broke My Rules Chapter 03
Every eye turned to her. But she still looked harmless.
“Don’t get me wrong. I’m just curious. What mother doesn’t love her child?”
“But you fell that hard, Clara, and you still refused to go to the hospital. It was like you wanted our baby gone.”
She paused, pretending to recall.
“I checked the dates. When you were pregnant, you were kidnapped. They asked for a hundred milli0n ransom.”
“But you stopped Dylan from paying. And you escaped on your own.”
Chloe’s gaze drifted to my flat stomach, malice dripping from every word.
“Kidnappers are cruel. They don’t let people go that easily.”
“What did you have to give up to get out alive?”
The accusation stripped me bare, questioning my honor and our baby’s legitimacy. Rage burned through me.
“You’re lying!”
I hadn’t let Dylan go because those kidnappers didn’t care about m0ney.
It was a trap set by his enemies which led him to catch the urn in the urn, and he would be beaten until he wouldn’t survive.
The vision of Dylan being beaten to death flashed before my eyes—brutal, unforgettable.
So that day, I took advantage of the kidnapper’s slackness, cut the rope with broken glass, and fought half my life to escape.
“Clara, I was just guessing. Why are you so angry?”
Chloe flinched at my glare, whimpering and hiding in Dylan’s arms.
Furious at her act, I reached to grab her.
Before I could touch her, I was struck hard across the face. My ears rang.
Dylan lowered his hand, looking at me with nothing but disgust and suspicion.
“So that’s why you refused to go to the hospital.”
“You were afraid this bastard would expose your dirty secrets, weren’t you?”
Fuming, Dylan didn’t hesitate. He slammed the porcelain urn onto the floor.
“No!”
I rushed over heartbreakingly, knelt on the ground, desperately to pilt up the scattered ashes with my hands, and repeatedly defended.
“Dylan, believe me. The baby was yours. I didn’t let you leave because I was scared you’d die…”
A sharp pain shot up my wrist.
His foot pressed down on my hand, pinning me in place.
He looked down at me coldly, then tossed the crumpled list of rules into my face.
“All these ridiculous rules—you really expect me to believe they were to keep me safe?”
“I broke half of them in one day, and nothing happened to me.”
“Clara, your act is pathetic.”
He pressed down harder. I gritted my teeth, too pained to speak.
He was fine because his deadline had passed.
I tried to explain, but when I saw the ripped-up roses and scattered ashes, hopelessness crashed over me.
The servants whispered among themselves:
“I always thought she was too much.”
What kind of stupid rule bans corn porridge? It’s ridiculous.
No wonder Mr. Sterling wants a divorce. Who could live like this?
Their quiet words cut me like knives.
I pushed myself up off the floor, suddenly exhausted.
I looked at Dylan and said softly:
“Dylan, let’s get a divorce.”