Dear Ex-wife Marry Me by Twin Bridge

In the dimly-lit basement, a hive of activity buzzed around the frail figure of a woman. A doctor hovered over her, his medical

expertise focused on the mystery of her condition, while the construction team's foreman examined the structure of the concrete

tomb that had been her prison.

Two days had passed, and the construction crew had cup empty-handed. It was the doctor who had the slightest glimmer of

progress to report.

"Mr. Sanders," the doctor said, the concern etched into his furrowed brow, "she seems to have lost the ability to communicate,

almost as if she's forgotten how to interact with people. And it's clear someone has modified her body."

Beck stiffened. His connection with Cynthia, the woman before him, was tenuous at best—shared blood, but little else. Yet the news

struck a chord within him, a pang of pain for a stranger who was family.

"Modified? What do you mean by that?" Beck's voice was tight with barely contained anger.

"It appears that several of her bones have been removed and replaced with skind of mechanical devices. They've been

integrated so long, they've practically beca part of her. The purpose isn't clear—could be for communication, maybe control.

There might be a chip involved, but this tech's beyond anything I've seen. Even with the state-of-the-art equipment, it's a

challenge."

The thought of Cynthia enduring such agony during the removal of her bones made Maja feel sick to her stomach. Without

approached the bed and took Cynthia's hands in

away and retreating into a corner, her body shaking

to remove her, she'd reacted just as

Why would she shrink from

website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in

summoned the best in the field for this—a team of

to the

"she most likely suffers from

Disorder, the doctor explained, was a condition unrelated to one's fear

response to sustained trauma.

in the air as she watched Cynthia curl up on the bed, silent

wings clipped. The strong, indomitable Lillian she

PTSD?" Maja whispered, her

first, she didn't fear human contact. Imagine people coming into this basement daily, violating her space,

to survive. The fear of touch would

fists clenched, her breath coming in

a thousand cameras were embedded, surveillance that captured

expressions. The tormentors behind the screens didn't wish for her death;

for

electrical punishment device over

effects of severe electric shocks on

knew all too well the humiliation of incontinence, a common result

shocks. And to think, Cynthia's most private agonies

grasped the

mad. Her mental clarity is intact

than any soldier I've known. She must have a belief sustaining her, or perhaps her captor fed her information, bits

to her deepest