Break Him Completely Chapter 1

The day he found out the truth, Ashton—the man who was always cold, quiet, and impossibly composed—went out and had a beauty mark tattooed onto his face.

When I went to pick him up, he greeted me with a smile that didn't reach his eyes and pressed me for an answer.

"Vivian, do I look like him now?"

"Viv, isn't it a perfect match?"

"Vivian, have you never read a goddamn romance novel? The ones with the stand-in? Why won't you just use me as his replacement...?"

"Just use me as him... please...?"

* * *

It was my best friend who sent me the video of Ashton taking a woman to a hotel.

I set down my paintbrush, rubbing the ache out of my neck before I finally freed up a hand to check my phone.

【Viv, baby, is this your husband?! He’s… he’s cheating?!】

I scrolled up and tapped on the first video.

The man in it was unmistakably Ashton. That aura of cold, aristocratic grace was impossible to miss. He was shielding the woman beside him with an air of intimacy, the two of them moving quickly into the hotel lobby.

My friend’s messages kept flooding in, one after another.

I stared at the screen, a strange thought bubbling up in my mind—

So, the tropes in those trashy romance novels were real after all.

Paparazzi really do stalk CEOs for their sordid affairs, then leak the story. But weren't they afraid of being blacklisted and ruined? I guess the novels don't get everything right...

I was lost in thought when I heard Mrs. Gable, our housekeeper, call up from downstairs.

"Mr. Thorne, you're home! Ma'am, the mister is back."

I covered my canvas and walked to the door of my room.

Ashton was indeed back.

He slipped off his shoes, handed his jacket to Mrs. Gable with a slight nod, and then his eyes lifted to meet mine.

I immediately plastered a bright smile on my face, but before I could even say a word, his gaze slid away. He walked past me, up the stairs, and disappeared into the bathroom in his study. Cold, as always.

The moment the bathroom door clicked shut, my smile collapsed.

My relationship with Ashton was… complicated.

I had been the one to pursue him. He didn’t love me; in fact, you could say he despised me.

People called him a block of ice that could never be thawed. He only married me because I was obedient. I never caused a scene over the women he was linked with in the tabloids, and I never interfered in his business.

Two years of marriage, and aside from our physical compatibility, he knew next to nothing about me.

But even so, Ashton always came home, no matter how late his business dinners ran. He never spent the night out. And though he didn't love me, he never skimped on material things. A supplementary credit card, jewelry, designer bags—I wanted for nothing.

I chalked it up to his impeccable upbringing.

The sound of the shower began to fade. To avoid the inevitable awkwardness, I decided to head back to my room.

Just then, Mrs. Gable brought me a bowl of soup, her face wreathed in a kind smile. "Ma'am, the mister smells strongly of alcohol. When he comes out, could you give this to him? It will help him feel better."

I glanced at the steaming bowl and offered a polite smile in return. "Of course. Thank you, Mrs. Gable."

I carried the soup into the study and had just set it on the desk when the bathroom door opened.

Ashton emerged with only a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair still dripping. Droplets of water traced paths down his chiseled chest, disappearing into the towel. His eyes were misty, the corners tinged red from the alcohol. As he looked up at me, he was the very picture of temptation.

While I was sizing him up, his gaze was locked intensely on me.

I scratched my head, ready to make my exit, but he spoke first, his voice a low rasp. "What's the soup?"

"Oh," I snapped back to reality. "It's to help with the hangover."

He began to dry his hair as he walked closer. "You made it?"

I shook my head. "No, Mrs. Gable did."

His lips tightened, and he said nothing more.

The silence between us stretched, thick and awkward.

I swallowed hard. "Well, if there's nothing else, I'm going to bed."

He continued to slowly rub his hair with the towel, still silent.

I turned to leave. My fingers were just about to brush the doorknob when a strong arm snaked around my waist.

Before I could react, the world spun. I was pinned against the desk, sending a cascade of documents fluttering to the floor.

A sharp gasp escaped me, and then I felt the wet heat of Ashton's lips on my neck.

I froze for a second, then instinctively tried to push him away. "I—I haven't showered yet..."

He pressed closer, capturing my lips with his, his words muffled. "Doesn't matter. You smell incredible."

Trapped beneath him, a tear escaped the corner of my eye, and I squeezed my eyes shut.

In my mind, Ashton was almost always calm and self-possessed, his emotions locked away where no one could read them. Most people feared him.

But there were times when he lost control. Like now.

Dawn was breaking; I had no idea how much time had passed. I couldn't hold back any longer and began to sob quietly against his shoulder.

His eyes were bloodshot. He gripped my waist, turned me over, and whispered against my ear, his breath hot. "One last time..."

In a daze, I blindly wiped at the tears on my face and cursed, "You bastard..."

And through the haze, I thought I heard him let out a low, soft laugh.