His Unwanted Gamma novel Chapter 163

Chapter 163

Elara’s POV

Pain shot through my body like a thousand volts of electricity, sharp and searing. It was even worse than the lashings I’d taken before

I could feel the blood rushing to my head, the noise of it pounding in my ears. But it was the pain that had my focus now, a pressure under my fingernail that made it hard to breathe.

A bamboo splinter. So small. But my body couldn’t seem to handle it.

“Stop,” I whispered, my voice trembling more than I wanted. The words barely escaped through the fog of pain that was eating me from the

inside out.

Miela laughed from behind me. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did that hurt?” Her tone was syrupy sweet, mocking. “I could always be gentler. Just beg me

for it.”

I could feel her grinning, the cruel delight in her voice. This wasn’t just about hurting me; it was about control. Always control.

I clenched my teeth, trying not to let her win, but the pain had me shuddering. My chest rose and fell rapidly, each breath a battle.

“No…please,” I whispered again, the word more pleading this time.

She pulled the splinter out slowly, agonizingly so, making sure every inch of it was drawn out for maximum torment. The rough texture of the bamboo scraped against the raw flesh under my nail.

My hands went cold as a gasp of pain escaped me, “Ah!”

A smirk danced across Miela’s lips as she leaned in closer. “So it does hurt, doesn’t it? You know, you haven’t said a word yet. I guess you’re not as tough as you think.”

She finally loosened her grip. My hand snapped away from hers.

Blood oozed from the wound, dripped down my finger, and landed on the cushion beneath me.

Miela’s eyes lit up, the look on her face almost gleeful. “Oh, look at that!” she mocked, “The red’s pretty, but not on my cushions. You should clean that up, Elara.”

I wanted to throw the cushion at her, but instead, I hid my bloodied hand behind my back and turned away, my heart pounding with a burning hatred I had never felt before for anyone.

Tmade my way to the bathroom, the urge to get away from her growing with every step, but she called out to me from behind.

“No, no. I want you to wash it here. Right now. Under my watch.”

I didn’t even bother to respond, my anger boiling over. “There’s no water,” I said flatly, my voice like ice.

Miela snapped her fingers, and within moments, Wendy had brought a bucket of water and soap from the bathroom.

“Start washing,” Wendy snapped, “You won’t get the stain out without scrubbing.”

I held my breath. Slowly, I submerged my injured hand in the water, wincing as the pain flared anew. The salt in the water stung like fire, the cruel twist to the game they were playing.

I ignored the agony as best as I could. Miela was watching, waiting for me to break. But I wouldn’t give her that satisfaction. Not this time.

1/3

Chapter 163

The seconds stretched as the pain gnawed at my nerve endings, but I stayed focused. I scrubbed the cushion with one hand, determin ignore the throbbing.

Miela’s voice broke the silence. “Stubborn bitch.” Her words were a hiss, full of venom.

The sound of her heels clicking against the floor signaled her departure. “You stay here, Wendy. Watch her finish this up. F’m going to the salon. Can’t waste my whole day on this.”

She stormed out, leaving Wendy behind to hover over me like a vulture. the quiet between us felt oppressive, a weight that pressed down on my shoulders.

After what felt like hours of cleaning, Wendy still wasn’t satisfied. “You missed a spot,” she said with a cruel smile, pointing at a part of the floor I’d already cleaned. Then, she stepped on it, leaving her muddy footprints behind. “Do it again.”

It was late by the time I was finally finished, my body stiff and aching, my hands raw and bleeding.

When Miela returned, she was glowing, her hair freshly styled, her face radiant with smug satisfaction. The King is coming to dinner, she announced, her voice as haughty as ever.

“Everybody hustle!” she barked, ordering the staff around like they were nothing. “Light the candles! Get rid of those wilting roses! Bring out

the best china!”

I stood back as the chaos unfolded around me, trying to fade into the background, but Miela’s eyes found me, and that spark of cruelty flared

again.

I watched her move to greet Lance, feeling an overwhelming sense of cold as he barely glanced at her. He tossed his coat aside, almost ignoring her.

“I want this night to be special,” Miela cooed, desperation leaking through her words.

Lance barely acknowledged her, slumping down into a chair with an air of irritation. “I’m busy, Miela. Don’t make this a regular thing.”

He was uninterested, dismissive. I couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes darted toward me, the disdain in them.

“Elara?” he asked, frowning.

“What are you doing here?” His confusion hung in the air like a question unanswered.

“Cleaning the room,” I said coolly, my gaze never wavering from his.

Miela’s face tightened in anger. She leaned in, trying to get his attention again. “Lance, about the wedding-”

But he was still more focused on me. “What is that on your neck?” His voice was sharp, suddenly curious. “A choker?”

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