Revenge After Divorce by Black Rose

Chapter 263

OLIVIA

It had been two days since Xander left, two days without food or water. My body had grown weaker with each passing hour, and I could feel every ache in my bones, every crack in my spirit. But there was a small sliver of hope amidst the physical torment: the sedative he had used to paralyze me was finally starting to wear off. I could feel a slight tingle in my legs when I pinched them hard, nothing much, but enough to give me the faintest

glimmer of relief. Soon, I would be able to move again.

That is, if I didn’t collapse from thirst and hunger first.

The worst part of being in that hellhole wasn’t the paralysis. It was the silence. The uncertainty. I had no way of knowing if it was day or night. Time had ceased to exist in that dark, suffocating tomb, and with each passing moment, I felt like I was slipping further from reality. I was literally buried alive, a prisoner in a catacomb of stone, with no one to help me, no one to hear my screams.

found. It was becoming harder to stay hopeful, especially when all I could think about was my children, my husband, how much they must be suffering, how they must have been searching for me. My heart ached at the thought of them, but the fear of never seeing them again was worse. I didn’t know why things like this kept happening to me. Was it some sort of twisted fate? Maybe I had invited this nightmare

At least in jail, people knew where I was. There was a chance for rescue. But this? This was like living in a grave,

realize something deep within myself. I wasn’t afraid of death anymore. Not in the way I had once been. But what terrified me more than anything was the thought of dying without anyone knowing, without anyone caring. To be buried alone in this tomb with nothing but my own thoughts. What if I died here? How would

to remember me the way

do that if I died here, in the dark, forgotten

of relief, thinking it might be someone coming to rescue me. But then I looked up and saw Xander standing in

at least I wouldn’t die alone in that place. He had a cruel way of showing it, but there was a

his voice cold and detached, as if my pain were nothing more than

to him.

just thirsty and hungry,” I said, my voice hoarse and weak, the words scraping my