Chapter 115. Selena 

Chapter 115: Selena 

Selena’s POV 

A few minutes ago….. 

I was rewatching my favorite Keeping Up With the Kardashians, in my phone, half–lost in the chaos of reality TV drama, when Ross let out a pitiful whimper. 

*Please, I need to pee,” he said, voice cracking under the strain, a mixture of panic and discomfort thick in his tone. 

I didn’t bother hiding my irritation. My eyes cut to him with razor–sharp annoyance. “No. You’re not going anywhere,” I snapped, my attention drifting right back to the screen, unfazed by his whining. 

He began squirming in the chair, shifting awkwardly, his groans growing louder, more desperate. “Come on,” he gritted out. I can’t hold it. If you don’t let me go now, I’ll piss myself.” 

A slow smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth. Despite everything, a trace of amusement found its way in. “What do you think I am, your nurse? You think I give a damn if you soak your pants or choke on your own filth?” 

His eyes searched mine, pleading, but I felt no sympathy–not a flicker. This was the same pervert who had the audacity to violate my daughter’s safety. I’d rather let him rot than feel an ounce of compassion. If anything, letting him suffer was a mercy compared to what he deserved. 

“I’ll wet myself right here,” he warned again, more forcefully this time. “And you’ll have to sit here and sniff my pee the whole day.” 

A wave of nausea twisted in my gut at the idea. The last thing I wanted was to fill this room with the stinking reminder of him. Disgust prickled at my nose before the smell even arrived. 

I sighed, jaw clenching. I couldn’t believe I was actually considering giving him what he wanted. But I also didn’t want my day ruined by the rancid smell of piss soaking into the floorboards. 

“Fine,” I muttered, stepping forward before I kept my phone inside my coat’s pocket. My hand reached for the ropes around his ankles. “You get ten seconds. I’m untying your legs so you can go, but don’t test me. You and I share a blood type, remember that. If you try anything smart, I swear I’ll gut you myself–harvest every working organ in that pathetic body, freeze them, and save them for the day mine stop ticking.” 

His eyes widened. “Wait–can you actually do that?” he asked, genuine confusion in his voice. 

I gave a half–hearted shrug. “Who knows. Maybe.” The corners of my mouth twitched. He had nerve, I’d give him that. If he‘ d only known how to respect women instead of demeaning them, I might have cared for him like my own son. 

Ross broke into a grin, as if he’d just won a round in some twisted game, savoring the power shift like a wolf catching the scent of fear. But that smugness didn’t last. 

The moment my hand slid to my thigh and drew the knife from the holster strapped beneath my skirt, everything changed. 

His grin faltered–eyes darting to the glint of steel, lips parting in a quick, sharp breath. 

His entire body stiffened. 

And God, I loved that reaction. 

I stepped behind him and nudged him forward with the cold steel. “Don’t you dare to oversmart me. I may have been joking about the organ fridge, but when I said I’d kill you–I meant it.” 

His hands were still bound tightly behind his back, and as he stumbled toward the bathroom, every step was cautious, each movement stilted like he was walking on broken glass. He knew I was watching his every breath, weighing whether 

he lived another minute or not. 

When he reached the bathroom door, he turned slightly, facing me with hesitant eyes. “Hey… Ex–stepmom, can you untie my hands? I can’t I can’t pee like this.” 

I stared at him, my expression flat, unreadable. Then my eyes narrowed, sharp and unyielding. “No,” I said, voice low and firm. “You don’t get that luxury. You can figure it out. Use your knees. Use the wall. I don’t care how. But your hands stay where they are–tied. Just like you left every woman you hurt: helpless and humiliated.” 

He blinked, lips parting like he wanted to argue–but the cold finality in my tone silenced him. Slowly, he turned back and shuffled into the bathroom, the door creaking shut behind him. 

And I just stood there, blade still in hand, waiti 

Successfully unlocked! 

I waited outside the bathroom, the knife resting loosely my hand. The sound of clumsy fumbling echoed behind the door -grunts, awkward shifting, a thud against the wall. I didn’t bother to care. 

He was struggling, as expected. Good. 

It still 

1/3 

I was nothing compared to what he’d put Lucy through. If this little inconvenience made him squirm, then maybe he’d 

Chapter 115: Selena 

finally taste a fraction of the shame he inflicted. 

After a minute, the sounds inside quieted. 

Then came his voice, light and oddly cheerful. “I’m done. Can you open the door now?” 

Something in his tone rubbed me wrong. But I pushed it aside–he was tied, after all. He had no options. I told myself that as I unlocked the latch. 

The door creaked open slowly, revealing him standing casually by the sink, like he owned the room. 

But it wasn’t his posture that stopped me cold. 

It was his hands. 

They weren’t tied. 

They hung loose by his sides–one flesh, one matte black and chrome. Free. 

My eyes dropped instantly to the floor. The rope was there, coiled like a dead snake, useless and limp near the toilet base. 

How? 

My head shot up, and I froze. 

He was closer than before. 

Too close. 

And he was smiling–that sick, triumphant grin stretched across his face like he’d just pulled off the world’s most brilliant magic trick. 

“Goodbye, ex–stepmother,” he whispered, his voice low and venomous, like a snake coiling for its final strike. 

Before I could raise my knife, scream, or even process what was happening, his robotic hand came down in a clean, merciless arc. 

CLANG. 

The impact was instant, unforgiving–metal colliding with bone. A jolt of searing white exploded behind my eyes. The world spun violently, tilting off its axis as the bathroom lights blurred into a kaleidoscope of pain. 

Time fractured. I couldn’t tell if it was seconds or centuries. 

I had let my guard down. 

He had played me. 

And now–I was falling. 

A strangled gasp escaped my lips as my knees buckled and I collapsed to the icy floor. The cold tiles bit into my skin, anchoring me to reality, but everything else felt distant–my limbs, my breath, my thoughts. 

Still, somewhere beneath the crashing waves of disorientation, instinct took over. 

I reached out blindly, my arm trembling, fingertips brushing the coarse fabric of his pants leg. My grip was weak, but I held on, desperate. If I could just slow him down, just delay him- 

But he turned with a snarl. 

The heel of his boot slammed down on my hand with a sickening force. 

Pain exploded like shrapnel through my arm. My wrist twisted at a wrong angle, and I let out a ragged scream. My fingers spasmed and went limp. 

Still–I wasn’t done. 

I couldn’t be. 

Groaning, I clawed at his ankle, weaker this time, fighting through a haze of nausea and searing agony. 

Another kick–harder, deliberate–crushed the last of my strength. 

My arm recoiled, no longer mine to command. Numb and burning at once. 

I lay there, sprawled on the unforgiving floor, every part of me screaming in pain and betrayal. My chest heaved in shallow gasps. Blood roared in my ears. 

I listened as his boots thudded away–each step a blow to my sanity, my pride, my vengeance. 

Fainter. 

Lighter. 

And then- 

Silence. 

Chapter 115. Selena 

A hollow, echoing absence that rang louder than any scream. 

The sound of his escape–of my failure–hung in the air like a curse. It swallowed the room, echoed inside my skull, and tightened around my throat like a noose. 

Ross was gone. 

And I was helpless. 

To be continued… 

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