Page 25 of Crushed Vow (Broken Vows #2)

CHARLOTTE

“Charlotte... I hated you in the past,” he began, voice raw, “or at least I thought I did—until you left. And now? Love doesn’t even come close to describing what I feel for you.

Obsession is too shallow a word. You’re the air I breathe, the only thing keeping me alive.

But I still won’t let you disrespect me. ”

His tone shifted, steel slicing through the vulnerability.

“But don’t mistake my desperation for weakness.

I won’t let you disrespect me like that again.

Don’t ever walk away from me to run back to another man.

I don’t care if it’s that doctor, Ethan, or any other fucking man who thinks he can can take you from me, I’ll destroy them.

And those fuckers who laughed at you today? I’ll make them beg to die.”

I let out a broken laugh. My throat burned as I wiped the tears from my cheeks with shaking fingers.

“Oh, you’ll make them suffer?” I spat, my voice trembling. “And that’s supposed to fix me? Glue me back together with blood and vengeance?”

Another laugh ripped from my chest, uglier this time. “You don’t get to talk to me about respect, Cassian. Not after what you did to me. Not after everything you broke and buried. Don’t you dare.”

The words poured out of me, trembling, splintered by sobs.

“You chained a woman in the twenty-first fucking century—heavy metal cuffs like I was some animal. You leashed me like a fucking dog and dragged me through that house like a possession. And you—” My voice broke.

“You made me suck you like a slut. You fucked me from behind because my chest made you sick. Because I wasn’t enough of a woman for you anymore.

Then you watched me leave. You let me walk away with bruises on my body and shame in my bones—and the last thing you ever called me was the daughter of a slut. ”

I hugged my knee ighter—because if I didn’t, I’d fall apart

“And then?” I choked, nearly whispering now. “Then I was kidnapped by my own father. Thrown into a psych ward like a ghost. And you—you didn’t find me. You didn’t even try. Not until it was too fucking late. Someone else had to come through for me.”

A suffocating silence followed.

“And now you dare to stand behind this door and talk to me about respect?” I spat. “Of all the men in this fucked-up world... how dare you, Cassian Moretti? You.”

There was nothing from the other side of the door. Just silence. And I knew it meant he was breaking, just like I was.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. My voice was quieter now, final and empty.

“This divorce is permanent.”

I let the words hang, cold and cruel.

“I’m too damaged to belong to anyone,” I continued. “And if I ever decide to start over—ever—it won’t be with you.”

Slowly, I pushed myself up from the floor, limbs shaking, knees aching.

Every movement felt like a wound reopening. I stood, tired and hollow, as if each word had carved me from the inside out.

“I hate you now. And I’ll hate you forever. After today—after you stood there, smoking, leaning against a pillar while those boys stripped me of every last ounce of dignity—I will never forgive you. Not for today. And never for the past.”

I pressed my palm to my chest, as if trying to hold my heart together.

“I swear it, Cassian,” I whispered. “On the ashes of my mother.”

“Charlotte—please... Charlotte!”

His voice cracked, trailing behind me like a ghost trying to claw its way back into my chest. But I refused to turn around. I refused to let it touch me.

I didn’t want to hear him.

Not anymore. Not ever again.

He was a bastard. A monster. A liar I once called home.

And I hated him—with the kind of passion that scorched.

I stumbled toward the kitchen like a woman possessed. My legs were numb. My hands shaking. I was still naked except for the useless black panty riding low on my hips. My skin felt cold. My soul was colder.

I opened the drawer. The knife glinted at me like an old friend.

I picked it up.

Pressed it to my stomach.

Just a little.

God.

The pain shot through me, a sting sharp enough to remind me I was still alive. But I didn’t want to be.

Not like this.

I turned the knife toward my neck, my hand trembling so hard it barely stayed steady.

But no.

It would be too slow and painful.

I could already feel it—the way the blade would tear through skin, the warm rush, the agony that would follow. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t watch myself bleed out. Not like that.

I staggered back, choking on the thickness in my throat.

Then—

BANG.

A violent thud slammed into the door. Again. Again. Louder each time.

I flinched.

Cassian.

It had to be.

He was trying to break in. I could hear the frantic desperation in the way he hit the door—over and over—like he could somehow claw his way through the steel.

But he couldn’t. The security system was top-tier. Bulletproof. Reinforced. Designed to keep me safe.

Designed to keep him out.

My phone rang in the bedroom. I almost ignored it.

But something made me stagger toward the sound, my body aching with every step. I picked it up, saw the name.

Vincent.

My brother. Now nothing more than betrayal wrapped in familiar skin.

I pressed the speaker button and tossed it onto the bed like it burned me. His voice came through—soft, cautious, like a coward dressing his knife with honey.

“Charlotte... how are you?”

My mouth twitched. Then I started laughing so hard it sounded like crying. Maybe it was both.

“How am I?” I echoed, voice wild. “What a fucking joke.”

“I’m sorry,” he said too quickly. “I was high that day. I didn’t know what I was doing—I swear to God, Charlotte. I was already gone before I realized what I’d done. I didn’t mean to shoot Ethan. Or... cuff you. I swear it.”

I laughed again. Louder.

“No, you meant every second of it.”

My voice cracked as I kept going, unstoppable now.

“You raised the gun. You pulled the trigger. You held the cuffs in your hands. You dragged me to the car—with Luca watching like it was sport.”

The tears came fast.

“You didn’t lose control. You made a choice.”

I was choking now—on the sobs, on the grief, on everything I’d buried just to stay upright.

My chest felt like it might rip open from the pressure.

“What do you even want, Vincent?” I cried, my voice breaking into pieces. “Why did you call? To beg? To confess? Or just to watch whatever’s left of me finally shatter?”

Silence.

Then, softly: “The Volkov Bratva... They have a spy inside Cassian’s estate. They said they’ll kill you both in seven days if you don’t surrender. They want you to publicly accept the engagement to Luca.”

I froze. The knife fell from my hand and clattered on the tiled floor.

I laughed. Then I paused—my lips trembling, my throat burning. The tears dried on my cheeks all at once, as if they’d been scorched off by fire.

My chest ached like it was collapsing inward.

A part of me—some stupid, na?ve part—had just begun to wonder if maybe his apology had been real. If maybe he’d meant it.

But this?

This was proof.

He didn’t choose me.

He chose them. Luca. Father. Their poisoned legacy.

Not me

And the worst part? I had loved him all my life.

Apparently, they persuaded him to call. Maybe even rehearsed the lines he just fed me.

“Charlotte, are you there?” he asked—his voice tinny, distant, unbothered.

My lips parted, dry. “I regret ever honoring our grandfather’s wish,” I whispered. “I should’ve stayed hidden in that house, lived out my quiet life, and never come near the Morettis.”

My voice shook, but I let it rise:

“I would rather die than ever be part of the Moretti family again,” I whispered. “Not to Luca. Not to Cassian.”

“Charlotte...”

I staggered backward, clutching my middle like it was splitting open. My vision blurred. The walls bent and swam around me.

The phone sat on the bed, lit up like an omen.

I stared at it—stared through it—like it might sprout claws and sink into my chest.

“I’m not afraid of death, Vincent,” I whispered. “But I am afraid of you. Of what you became. You were my brother. You were supposed to protect me.”

I swallowed hard, but the sob came anyway, crawling up my throat like fire.

“You knew I would’ve laid down my life for you. In a heartbeat. Without hesitation.”

My chest heaved. I could barely breathe.

“And that’s what makes it hurt the most. Not just that you betrayed me.”

“God, Vincent... you really did betray me.”

I could barely say it out loud.

But it was the truth.

And it shattered something in me that would never come back.

My lips quivered. My eyes stung.

My fingers shook as I picked up the knife again.

“Charlotte?” His voice pierced through. “Don’t hang up—”

Then I screamed and hurled the phone at the wall, the shatter loud and final, like a bone snapping clean in half.

“I regret every moment I spent loving you,” I whispered. “I should have let you die.”

“You betrayed me!” I howled, voice torn and hoarse. “YOU FUCKING BETRAYED ME!”

My chest trembled.

“You were my brother!” I sobbed. “My only brother—God, Vincent, I loved you. I waited for you. Every fucking night at Grandfather’s house.”

I sobbed

“I used to count the stars and pretend one of them was you coming back for me.” My voice cracked, shriveling into something smaller. “But you hurt me.”

I dragged in a breath that burned on the way down.

“You fucking hurt me.”

Then louder—sharper—splintered with rage:

“You are no longer my brother. From this moment on, stay the hell away from me!”

My hands were shaking so hard I almost dropped the knife. But I didn’t.

I clenched it tighter.

My chest caved. My mind split. And the pain—God, the pain wouldn’t leave.

So I turned it on myself.

I plunged the blade into my thigh. A scream tore through my throat.

But the pain—it helped. It made everything else quieter.

I didn’t stop.

Another stab. This time, my side.

Blood soaked through the cotton of my dress, hot and fast. My vision blurred.

But I didn’t care. I couldn’t stop.