He Watched Me Die Twice Chapter 02
The video cut to another memory—the lavish banquet where my wealthy family was formally introducing me to society.
Standing beneath a massive crystal chandelier, my father, Grayson Davy, threw an arm around my shoulders. “This is my long-lost daughter, Brianna,” he announced with pride.
The moment the words left his mouth, the heavy banquet hall doors burst open.
Jonathan stormed in, flanked by a squad of police officers. He looked furious.
Brandishing a warrant, he locked eyes with my father.
“Grayson Davy, you’re under arrest on suspicion of manufacturing and trafficking drugs,” he barked. “Come with us.”
Handcuffs clicked shut around my father’s wrists.
But as the officers shoved him out toward the cruiser, he suddenly started thrashing, fighting them frantically.
In the ensuing struggle, an officer’s gun accidentally went off.
Warm blood splattered across my skin and my clothes.
My mind went completely blank. I couldn’t process what had just happened.
“She’s the drug lord’s daughter!” somebody screamed.
I never saw who grabbed me first, but the crowd swarmed, tearing into me.
Someone yanked my hair back so hard that white-hot pain shot across my scalp.
My formal dress was ripped to shreds.
People were spitting on me, sloshing cold drinks over my head and face.
“Your father killed my son! You deserve to die, too!” a middle-aged woman shrieked.
She lunged forward and kicked me viciously in the stomach.
Searing pain ripped through my gut.
I curled into a ball on the floor, trembling in agony as I felt warm blood running down my leg.
I lost my three-month-old baby right there on that floor.
Back in the present, Jonathan swallowed hard. His knuckles were bone-white from gripping his fists so tightly.
But the crowd in the video was cheering. “Serves her right! Her father killed so many people—she deserves to lose her baby!”
The video skipped to another scene.
I stood outside the hospital, my face still wrapped in bandages.
Jonathan blocked my path. His eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep, and his voice shook with grief.
“Bri, what your dad did has nothing to do with you,” he pleaded.
“I’ll take care of you. We can have another baby. Let’s just start over, okay?”
I stared at him and let out a harsh laugh.
“Jonathan, did you know I was abducted by human traffickers when I was a little girl? I ate out of dumpsters. I slept under bridges.
“I finally found my real dad… and you got him killed.”
I pulled the wedding ring off my finger and threw it at his feet.
“I want a divorce.”
The ring spun across the floor, settling with a sharp clink.
Jonathan bent down to pick it up, his fingers shaking uncontrollably.
I didn’t give him a second glance; I just turned and walked away.
Out in the real world, Martha squeezed Jonathan’s hand and let out a heavy sigh. “Bri takes everything way too far. She’s completely blinded by her own anger.”
Someone in the crowd scoffed.
“Anger, right. She obviously just wants the cash and the clout.”
“Seriously. Why else would she run straight to Damian? The guy’s a major cartel boss.”
The giant screen faded to black. When it flared back to life, it showed the grittiest underground casino in Chicago.
I was wearing a bright red dress with a slit cut high up my thigh.
Inside a VIP room, Damian Felton lounged back on a sofa with a woman tucked under each arm.
Without saying a word, I grabbed twelve shots of hard liquor off a tray and threw them back, one right after the other.
The booze scorched my throat, making my stomach heave.
Damian watched me, genuinely intrigued.
“You wanna work for me?”
He got up and strolled over to a heavy iron cage in the corner.
Inside, a mastiff was ripping apart a chunk of raw meat, its muzzle smeared with blood.
“Go in there and take the meat right out of its mouth,” Damian said.
He lit a cigarette, a nasty smirk on his face.
“Barehanded.”
I took a slow breath, kicked off my heels, and stepped barefoot into the cage.
An hour later, my right arm was shredded, the gashes deep enough to show bone.
My left hand was riddled with puncture wounds from the dog’s teeth, dripping a steady trail of blood onto the floor.
I shoved the mastiff’s spasming body out of the way, limped back over to Damian, and handed him the raw meat.
“Mr. Felton, your dog… is very well-behaved.”
He let out a laugh and patted the rug right by his feet.
“Interesting. Kneel.”
I dropped straight to my knees.
Gripping the liquor bottle with both hands, I poured him a drink.
“From now on, you’re mine.”
Damian took the glass, his eyes dark and possessive.
I kept my gaze glued to the floor.
“Yes.”
From that day on, I was his top lieutenant—and the cartel boss’s mistress. I became the woman everyone in Chicago openly despised.
Back in the plaza, Jonathan snapped his head away, refusing to watch the screen for another second.
Beside him, Martha covered her eyes, visibly disgusted.