I Crawled Through Hell. Turned To Be My Don Husband’s Loyalty Test Chapter 06
Dominic’s POV
The Valerius Private Club.
I arrived late. They penalized me three shots of neat bourbon.
I downed them without flinching, my mind still tethered to the image of Linnea standing in the rain.
Six months, I thought. Six more months of this charade, and I’ll bring her home.
I’ll burn that scavenger jacket and put her in silk. She’ll understand then.
She’ll thank me for making her strong enough to wear the crown.
Marcus Webb—the quiet shadow of the Blackwood Syndicate—stood up suddenly, staring at his phone.
The room went still before he even spoke.
A single breath from the Blackwood Syndicate was enough to make everyone listen.
“My cousin is coming back to the city,” Marcus said, his voice carrying a weight.
“The Webb family is hosting a gala next month. You’re all invited.”
The table erupted in whispers.
The Webb family was old blood—mystics and billionaires who moved in the shadows.
Marcus was famously protective of his younger cousin. She was the family’s best-kept secret, hidden away for years “for her own safety.”
Someone nudged me. “Bring your girl, Valerius. Maybe she can learn a thing or two from a real lady like Marcus’s cousin.”
A laugh went around the table.
Everyone knew the story: Dominic Valerius, heir to an empire, slumming it with a woman who smelled of death and dirt.
They’d bet on the day I’d finally throw her away.
I never would. Not in this life.
My eyes darkened. “She doesn’t belong in a place like this.”
“Because she’s a vulture?” someone sneered.
I didn’t answer. I was looking at Marcus Webb, who was already heading for the door.
“What’s wrong with Marcus?” someone asked.
“I saw a photo on his screen,” another whispered. “Looked like a crime scene. A woman’s arm, all torn up and bloody.”
“He looked like he wanted to burn the city down.”
My heart gave a strange, violent thud. A bloody arm.
I thought of Linnea.
My phone buzzed. A message from the “hospital” director.
Ms. Sorrento hasn’t arrived to pay the balance. Her phone is disconnected. Should we initiate the ‘protocol’?
I stared at the screen. A low hum of unease began to vibrate in my bones.
She was probably just sleeping. Or pouting. She’d always been dramatic when she was tired.
I called her. Once. Twice. Ten times.
The number you have reached is no longer in service.
I set my glass down. The condensation left a cold, perfect ring on the table.
Six more months, I told myself.
I’d already picked out the diamond.
I’d already planned the coronation.
I’d tested her in fire, and she had come out pure gold.
Everything was ready. But where was she?