My Vengeful-Ex

Chapter 77

Christina

Mom’s condition deteriorated quickly. The doctors said they had no choice but to put her on life support. Even then, nothing was guaranteed. If she survived, she'd need long-term care in a facility; she’d never be able to go home again.

I couldn't think of anything else but being by her side. Work didn't matter. I texted Pol to let him know I'd be at the hospital. Aiden stayed with him because I didn’t trust anyone else after what happened with the kidnapping. Leaving Aiden in the care of someone other than Pol just wasn’t an option anymore.

Logan still hadn’t explained what happened that night. He wouldn’t tell me how he saved Aiden or why he was injured. He had a cut across his shoulder, deep enough that it had required stitches. Every time I asked, he dodged the question or simply distracted me with sex, like it was his solution to everything.

When I texted Logan about my mother, I was brief. I didn’t want to hear his usual cold responses, especially when I was barely holding myself together. He didn’t seem concerned, just sent a one-line message: Take as long as you need. He could afford to be detached. It wasn’t his mother fighting for life.

For the next two days, I ran on autopilot, shuffling between home and the hospital. The doctors finally gave me some hope, saying she might be strong enough to come off life support soon. I clung to those words, praying they were right.

But Logan’s attention shifted as soon as I told him Mom’s condition was stabilizing. He texted, asking me to come to his penthouse on Saturday evening. I knew exactly why he wanted me there. He had given me a small window of grace, but now that my mother wasn’t on the verge of death, his leniency was gone.

When I arrived, Logan was waiting in the living room, lounging on the couch in nothing but low-slung sweats. His chest was bare, the toned muscles there a sharp contrast to the cold expression on his face. Files were scattered on the coffee table in front of him. The moment I saw those papers, my stomach dropped.

“Do I need to strip?” I asked, skipping pleasantries.

I needed this over quickly. The doctors said Mom could wake up at any moment, and I wanted to be there when she did. Her health was my fault. She had been strong until the news broke about my arrangement with Logan. The stress from it had been too much for her.

“Not yet,” Logan said calmly, sliding a folder across the table toward me.

I eyed the folder, a pit forming in my stomach. I opened it slowly, unsure of what to expect. What now? What could he possibly need from me that wasn’t already written into our contract?

“What is this?” I asked warily.

“It’s an application for hospice care,” he replied, his tone flat. “All the details have been taken care of. All you need to do is sign.”

Hospice care. He had arranged it for Mom. He had gone ahead and made the decision for me.

“I can’t sign this. I don’t want anything else from you,” I said, fighting to keep my voice steady.

The idea of accepting more from Logan was suffocating. I already felt trapped, like I owed him everything. This would only tighten the noose. And I knew better than to believe there was any kindness behind his actions. Logan didn’t do favors.

“I didn’t ask for your opinion,” he snapped, his voice hardening. “Just sign the damn papers.”

I dropped the folder onto the table and turned on my heel to leave. But before I could even take a step, Logan was on me, his fingers gripping the back of my neck, dragging me back toward him. His hold was so tight I could feel the bite of his nails against my skin.

“You’re not leaving until I get what I want,” he growled, his breath hot against my ear.

I froze. His eyes, once brown and warm, had turned black with rage.

“I don’t want your charity,” I spat out, trying to break free.

“You don’t have a choice. You take what I give you. Or did you forget about the contract you signed?”

His grip tightened, his fingers pressing harder into the tender skin of my neck. It was a reminder—just how little power I had in this situation.

“You’ll move in with me after your mother is transferred to hospice care,” he said, his voice like ice. “You can bring Aiden, or you can send him to a boarding school. I don’t care either way.”

My heart stopped. He wanted me to live with him?

“I’m not moving in with you,” I said, shaking my head in disbelief.

Living with Logan would mean exposing Aiden to him every single day. That was a line I couldn’t cross. My son had already been through too much because of me.

“You will if you want to keep your son,” Logan said with a smug smile. “It’s in the contract. Breach it, and you’ll pay a ten million dollar penalty. You’ll also lose custody of Aiden.”

I gasped, my body going cold with terror.

There was no way that was in the contract. Was there? I hadn’t even read it properly before signing. Logan had rushed me, putting pen to paper before I could question anything. Now, I had no idea what other traps he’d laid for me.

He had me backed into a corner, and he knew it.

“Why are you doing this?” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

“Because I spent five fucking million saving your son. And I intend to get what I paid for,” he said simply. “I want to fuck you whenever I feel like it, and that’s easier if you’re living here.”

“And your girlfriend?” I shot back bitterly.

“That’s none of your business,” he said coldly. “Now sign the papers and get rid of your clothes.”

He pulled me closer, his lips crashing down on mine. It wasn’t a kiss. It was a possession. I didn’t resist. The last time I’d dared, he’d punished me in ways I never wanted to experience again.

When he finally pulled away, I was breathless and shaken. He didn’t give me a moment to recover. He pushed me down to my knees beside the coffee table, his hand gripping the back of my neck to hold me in place.

“Sign it, Christina,” he ordered, his voice devoid of emotion.

"Please don't do this, Logan. Please don't force me," my voice broke fr my helplessness.

"Just fucking sign them," Logan hissed.

My hands trembled as I picked up the pen and scrawled my name across the form. I didn’t even read the document properly. What was the point? It was all part of his plan to make sure I had no way out. He’d thought of everything.

“Good,” Logan said, his tone shifting as he reached into his pocket. He pulled out a pair of handcuffs, dangling them in front of me with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

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